Last night, your buddy was thinking about calling one of those crazy psychic hotlines, he was really depressed, his girlfriend dumped him, and he wanted some good news. You know they’re all a scam, they give you some advice that could apply to everyone and a large bill to boot. You told him to go for it.
But now he’s missing. All you have is his cell phone, and something is wrong with it. You found it in your toilet today. Yeah, your toilet. It’s got all his old numbers and a few you don’t recognize. You tried to call some, but all you got was a what sounded like a bunch of voices muttering at once. What the hell is going on here?
"Are you crazy? There ain’t no such thing. It’s all fairy tales for the stupid and desperate. Even if it were, they all say it’s cursed or something. Get back to work."
Your Ultimate Source for all your Ooze Problems!
It looked like a massive landslide, but, just before it slammed into us it turned into a bunch of laughing dwarven children!
Why won’t this damn torch light?
The vestments of office for the Queen of Forgotten Souls. Strange jewely with powers beyond mortal comprehension.
The secret device behind the most feared corrosive substance to ever plague the mortal realms.
As soon as he had set his eyes upon The Sword of all Swords he knew it must be the perfect blade for him. And he would stop at nothing to possess it!
"Greetings, Mortal," Said the bubbly, hissing voice in his head… What the hell was that, he thought. "Not hell, the Ocean. Walk into the surf, my child. I will protect you."
"One for you," He mumbled, pouring some rum onto his boots, "And a few gulps for me, and we’re off."
He took a large gulp from the bottle, put his boots on, and was out the door in a flash.
Fandune screamed as the inmate’s hands locked around his neck. With quick thinking and a little luck he managed to mutter the right words and waggle his fingers perfectly for the curse. The inmates fingers bent back upon themselves and were rendered useless.
"Wear this ring, My Student, and you will never perform another act of perversion and thus remain pure."
A legendary Artifact of the first brutal Ice Age.
"That not normal dark. My eyes can not see in it." - Bloodrock, Orcish Warrior.
With a twitch of the leg and the push of a button; Houston’s boots emitted a massive amount of steam and he was sent headlong into the air.
Machines powered by this battery can gain some interesting traits from their deceased co-worker, the Battery of the Damned.
"Music is the wine which inspires one to new generative processes, and I am Bacchus who presses out this glorious wine for mankind and makes them spiritually drunken." ~Ludwig van Beethoven
A metal tube with a shiny red button just begging to be pressed; also a potent steamtech tool.
An old device used for giving the common folk a say in the Elder’s plans that has survived to the modern day.
This is a wretched tome of oceanic blasphemy; a foul water-stained, bone-white binder of bitter dead-men’s secrets and a guide to Nautical Necromancy useful in the hands of the young sea-faring necromancer or the Great Lich Umeen herself.
The Dodge DynaMax is a rare care, coming at exactly the wrong time in history. The End of the muscle car era was nigh, and the market was already filled out with GTOs, Mustangs, Camaros, Chevelles, Novas and a dozen other high performance poor handling vehicles. The DynaMax had a plan to dominate the market with a combination of factory turbochargers and a complex eight speed gearbox. The machine was planned to triumph over the human driver element. What ended up happening was excess costs and mechanical issues saw the turbochargers removed and replaced with a conventional supercharger, and the eight speed transmission ended up being the bane of the car's existence. More DynaMaxes were destroyed or totalled by transmission failures than anything else. The car remains an ugly and ambitious reminder of a day gone by