A wonderfully ornate wood and silk dragon suit of the kind used in the Chinese Dragon dance. Flawlessly crafted, it is a wonder to see.
Freetext Friday, A Tale of Mysantia
Two rival wizards. You can guess what happens. Yes, one flays the other naturally, but is interrupted half-way through the skinning ritual...
- Stop ogling!
- I wasn't
- You can't take your eyes off her even now!
Only the good looking can't see it
Few know the secret behind the Flying Monks of Ka-zin is not entirely due to their remarkable skill at acrobatics, but also in the colorful belts they wore.
The sound was most troublesome. Long have I been prisoner to Kormack and his evil designs, and the torturous sounds my heart has been cursed to endure has left me cold inside. I endure and ignore. Cold to the pain and the suffering of poor souls around me. Their Fate forsworn as soon as they enter His lair. But this, this atrocity has pierced my now icebound heart and cracked deep into my very soul. The children... The mewling babes that know nothing of their future, nothing of the joys of life. Innocent of horrors of the world and the dread future it holds. How short that future is. I can not get the sound of the mewling infants from my mind, it is seared into memory as a brand on an animals flank forever to remain. Some have even laughed right up till the end and nothing is more damaging to ones sanity than a broken childs laugh.
Master Blacksmith Heaf Astes
A fine cloak that allows the wearer to see from a statue's eyes.
"I once went questin' for Alexander Sehtolc's five clothes. Each item has a magic power that the wearer can use, see. And when you get all seven, each power is amplified. 'Course, I never could find Alex's boots."
-Old Gerald, man in the pub.
You shall carry your sibling, be his support and guide.
He shall be your shelter, guardian, aegis firm.
United you stand, divided you fall.
Moon Water Jewel was a woman of breathtaking beauty, so no ordinary gift would do.
I am the mask that grins and lies
I'll hide your face and shield your eyes....
Time to test yet another one, He thought as he approached the bus. He withdrew the quarters from his pocket, the exact fare. Marvelous!
Vampiric panties? What a base a vulgar term, they are discretionary undergarments. Please, they are Braies of the Tides.
It's just a shoddy old hand bag, pay it no mind.
It looked like a massive landslide, but, just before it slammed into us it turned into a bunch of laughing dwarven children!
The mark of Kronath’s ultimate favor, the Cloak of Dusk is held by her Hunter, her chosen avatar to hunt the living dead, and return them to her embrace.
"He’d look a lot more majestic up there if he weren’t wobbling all over the place!"
The volcano robe as it is called houses the elemental power of fire.
Spennymore’s Skating Boots look normal to the untrained eye. It is difficult to mentally connect them to the legends that cling to them, of those who would attack the wearer suddenly ending up head over heels.
Wytchwolde-Under-Ash, once a great Thorpe, was razed to the ground by the ruthless, and truth told more than slightly deranged, Porcelain Princess and her henchmen, the Purifiers. When the flames had at last subsided, and a kaleidoscope of swirling, dull-gray ash choked the sky, nine hundred acres of old growth iron spruce, black larch and weeping birch, was burned to utter cinders, along with the entire coven of witches comprising the Sisterhood of the Silver Teat.
Now, centuries later, the forests are somewhat re-grown, and the town of Foolswater stands where Wytchwolde-Under-Ash once did. It is said that even to this day, one can still find ashes in the otherwise potable well-water of this village. Once a year during the Winter Solstice, the “Ash-Wind” comes to Foolswater, a suffocating black cloud that passes quickly but leaves dead birds and animals in its wake, darkening the trees, and staining the sky with black snow. The inhabitants of the village know better than to be caught outside during the day-long Ash-Wind. Everyone is locked snugly inside, singing old hymns that curse and re-curse the burned witches who once called this place home.