A natural stone with a hole in the center and gift from the earth to the lucky finder.
A sword made by ancestors, of ancestors, for desendants. The spirits of the warriors gone before help serve this blade’s master in battle.
Invented by a pragmatic clothier and a wizard-for-hire, the Tourniquet Tunic is made for use on the battlefield.
...In the hallowed halls of the University of Linnarson a glimpse may sometimes be caught of the Senior Masters, learned sages and masters of knowledge. They seldom leave their dusty studies full of learned tomes, other than to dine - each evening they will be found shuffling down the dimly lit corridors to the dark and shuttered Great Hall. After feasting at high table by candlelight they will be gone, returning once more to their studies. None but they know of their pact with death, how they have willingly embraced an eternal undeath in which to pursue knowledge, yet this is the reason for the darkened corridors and the shuttered hall, for those who are undead cannot abide the light of the sun…
A curiously designed ring - but not uncommon. Similar in design to most traditional ‘magi-rings’, which often hold enchantments on them. But unlike those rings, this one may take quite a hold on you…
To the primitive tribes on the plains of North, life changes rapidly from season to season. In summer, food is abundant. In the winter, death from starving is never far. A natural phenomenon helped one such tribe.
Most advenurers have been forced to do a stint as caravan guards at some point in their career, just to see them through hard times. One would hope that they’d learned enough from the experience to pull off a successful raid themselves. The only catch - they mustn’t kill anybody.
Carmo keeps a shop in the backstreets of Erezi. It’s not often visited, Carmo makes people feel…uneasy. Even the veterans of the Erezi underworld are uncomfortable being alone with Carmo. But they need to buy their traps from somewhere…
There was He, and there was She. And She was shy of men at first, always being told to distrust them. But He taught Her what love is, and promised Her everything he could. And they lived in happiness, and their love was perfect, for the rest of their lives.
This ice-crafted armor is a gift from the three-aspected Goddess of Water to her chosen.
A beautiful warrior woman, with a sword and soul of ice.
A little prank that has found its uses. Shaving razor.
The bronze half plate of the Flame Knight, this armor serves to protect the wearer with the blessing of the Lord of Fire.
In the darkness in the south transept of the Cathedral of Isielles stands the resplendent Clock of Shadows. It tells more than just the time of day…
The home of the reclusive Monk-Smiths of Moldan, unparalleled practitioners of the art of smithing.
It looks like an ordinary parchment map, until it speaks to you. It says, “I know where you need to go to find what you are looking for.” From there, the adventure begins.
A brightly colored ink that hardens the skin.
The shattered remnants of a divine weapon, a certain amount of power remains in these bits of celestial metal.
When a mysterious man hires them to slay Baza, the Yellow Priest, will the heroes find more than they bargained for?
Centaur-crafted marching drums, imbued with firey power.
An old, misanthropic and paranoid man feels his time is coming. There are sons to leave his fortune to, but they are not worth it, not a dime do they deserve! And he doesn't really trust anyone else. And so he has made a decision: as a part of his last will, his henchmen are instructed to burn and destroy all his holdings, buildings as harvest. The lands shall be auctioned off, the proceeds used to pay the servants. Nothing shall stay behind. Nothing.
Depending on the status of the grumpy old man, this weird occurrence may be only a family drama, or it may end up bringing an entire region into chaos. Or the son(s) have found what should happen, and want to prevent it before their sick father dies.