Darome Rikael. Not a name of fear, but rather one of pity.
A warhammer with liquefying powers.
Forged from the stuff of legends by a great Sacre-Sorcerer. Grants the wielder a variety of different powers throughout the day and night.
The characters are wandering through the bustling crowds of Lasopolis. A street conjuror is performing a simple summoning spell, something for the kiddies. A bit of odious purple powder in the fire, an incantation and out pops a saak-lizard or a muhmentarsh, writhing from the flaming brazier. But the conjuror has only a poor grasp of the arcane magical tongue. A few stuttered syllables could lead to Other Things coming through the brazier and giving the crowd more entertainment than they had paid for...