The last masterpiece of master fletcher Jugan of the Lorug Phreng
A floating sphere of rusted iron spikes, no good can come of this.
A metal that can only be tempered once, and ever after it shall know no flame, nor shall heat harm it
A sword with a bitter history and a dark stigma
We need a bigger gun…
A magic weapon common among the Orcish tribes
So much gone, so much I can’t remember. but I have my spells, and that is all I need to deal with you.
Last words of Thuulgar the Wicked
The sword of swords, it is what it needs to be.
The engines and playthings of the artificer kings.
You can’t tell safe water from bad, well unless there is a pile of rotting bones in it with not a scrap of flesh left on ‘em and then it’s pretty obvious.
PVT. Quinn, memoirs
The cloud doesnt have much of a smell. It looks like fog until it’s on you and then it’s two late. A couple of sucking breaths and your chest is one fire and your eyes are bleeding. Terrible stuff, but if you think it is tough on the living, you should see what it does to the dead
PVT Thomas Quinn.
A glowing green stone flowing with the elemental power of evil
The skull of the dragon of dark illusions
A standard book of evil.
The fifth generation of gynoid robots produced for the inhabitants of Technopolis.
A handsome bed set, obviously expensive and likely both old, and imported.
A symbol of achievement, an icon of arrogance and pride, a pinnacle of alchemical purity.
A sentinel, a defender of humanity, standing against the hosts of the eternal night.
A potent drink gauranteed to turn good folk into depraved and desolate madmen.
Lady Carse of Tekne
A rare sight, but one dreaded by the foes of dwarvendom.