Vampiric panties? What a base a vulgar term, they are discretionary undergarments. Please, they are Braies of the Tides.
Six months of hunting, six months of research and paying coin to scholars and sages, and now that we have the legendary wand of Geohadris the Stone King, it only summons stupid boulderkin? I am outraged beyond imagination!
Mapmaker's bane, a few of these can ruin a decade of cartography!
Teens and Vampires, How to tell if your Son or Daughter has Fallen for One of the Undead
A Temple of the Sun Pamphlet
Being a Decepticon is a deep and personal decision, one not taken lightly.
You came here in that? You are brave
Mind the nettles son, it's wet out.
The Zombie Strain, as the infection was most commonly known, was actually identified as PrP-1174, a prion.
It's just a shoddy old hand bag, pay it no mind.
Tales grow in the telling and heroes grow in stature, even the tiniest can stand tall among their own.
Flame fowl, brightest red chickens you will ever see, nice feathers for fletching arrows, but I'd pass on the omlet.
The villagers are having a fit, they've found something in the woods!
Crazy old woman, selling pieces of bone and fake charms. The fact that the villagers even tolerate the old eye-roller hag demonstrates a lack of piety to the Faith.
"Zutul? You mean someone took time to give it a name?"
Maj. Rielle Law
T'was a great roar, milord, and the ground was rent and the horses took their bits in their teeth and there was much confusion. No magic could reach so far, and none of our magehounds scented wizards. We do not know the deviltry of the enemy, and for this we lost the battle.
No chain is heavier than the one forged by the passage of years.
"For days, we've heard nothing but cricketsong, from the coming of dust to an hour past dawn. Nothing he happened, but I'm sure something will."
last journal entry, Traggion the Explorer
A black sword, blessed with elemental power, and tainted with hatred and rage
It is easy to forget in our fast paced globally connected world what the reality of village life would have been like.
Tucked back in the corner of Kiskedee square, off of Aasvogel, is the Hornless Goat. The tavern is as non-descript and plain as any business can be and still maintain itself in passable fashion. No one notices the patrons of that small overlooked place.
Stormbound, the ship rolls hard over to once side. All that is not strapped down is tossed violently overboard in a splash of freezing water.
There, on the horizon- a tower. Squat, it stands alone on a tiny island. However, it's the only land in sight, and any more of this ferocious storm will crush the boat to splinters.
Taking shelter within the ornate entryway of the squat tor, the party notes with interest that no signs of life break the silence of the stone tower. As they take another step forward, they realise why.
This is the fabled tower of Brenji, a rich merchant who wished none to share his enormous wealth. He constructed this tower to store his gold- trapped and ready for any potential thieves. But the ingenious pitfalls and scything walls are not the only dangers within the silent walls of the building. A guardian, left behind by Brenji, still stalks these very halls.
A rattling hiss echoes somewhere from below...