Appearing in the form of a massive bloody spider, the Bone Stitcher is one of the more macabre creations of the infernal…

In Aelfa’s arms, have I left my anvil…

These were the last words of Davyd, the last master alchemist of the Old World, upon his deathbed. For nine centuries many have sought out Aelfa to find the anvil so that they might create weapons of power equivalent to those crafted during the height of the Old World.

The Grand Arm is a weapon without peer, there is naught a blade nor shield that can withstand it’s mighty blows. This ornate weapon is surely the divine tool of the god of war…

Good luck, and good fortune favors those who possess the Pillars of the Alchemist.

These items, potent wards against spirits, were once commonplace. Following the end of the old Empire the methods of their manufacture was lost and none new have been made in the intervening centuries.

GROND!...GROND!...GROND!...
Thousands of orcs chant in unison as their champion and chieftan raises the black iron morningstar, they chant for the hammer of the underworld, the unbeatable weapon of orcdom.

Oft overlooked, and moreso understaffed, the majordomo of Jesolo Manor sought out a sorcerous cousin to craft for him some sort of charm or spell to aid him in the maintainence of the sprawling manor. A six foot staff of twisted oak was his prize.

What is it that hangs from such a fine belt? Tis a sword of Righteous Slaying, and a Mace of Disintegration. A pouch of Perfect Invisibility Dust, and a wand of Endless fireballs?

Good sir, This must be the Belt of Munchkin-kind

Flame burns hot, bringing warmth, life, and hope. Anti-Fire burns too, but it devours heat, and saps the will of life. Before the world could be inhabited, all of the coldfire, and anti-fire had to be collected an hidden away safely. The gods did this, placing it in an urn of brass and hiding it away from the world.

Lacking in ornamentation, the Black Spear is a relic more than 8000 years old

That there is a big gun, partner…
Sure is. Feeling lucky?
Uh…no

The Seven Lords of the Peninsulari each wore a magical signet ring identifying them as a sovereign lord.

Manifold collections of wheels, and gears, springs and coils, all bound by the inexoriable tread of time.

The chimera is a trifold beast, and the Chimeric ring likewise is a trifold item, both magical, and cursed.

Long ago there was a cult who worshipped Bast, the fickle goddess of Felines. Their temple has fallen, and the cult dispersed and all that remains is a silver wand adorned with the holy symbol of bast, a cat with emeralds for eyes…

Sometimes a sword’s value is not determined by magical properties, of gilding and jewels. Sometimes it’s value comes from it’s deeds and it’s history

Small bits of precious metal, and flawless jewels woven into the mane of a noble steed