Handed down from Master to Apprentice for hundreds of years, the mokgum of the Chil Sung Kwan contains the essence of the Way.
And… The Young Thug pulled out a… Dead Rat? Didn’t see that coming.
A curious dagger, with a blade stained by ancient gore; it has seen many dark deeds, yet goes unsuspected as more than some old piece of junk.
Carved to bring glory to the Patient One, the silent and frigid Abomination that holds dominion over the frozen wastes, the Glacier’s Fist is heralded as a deadly weapon, but the true purpose of it is a much more subtle thing.
The Icicle Sword is a powerful weapon of cold, but those who use it’s full powers almost allways pay with their lives.
30 groups of magical swords
Forged of destruction, in the name of hatred, Winter’s Tempest is a cold echo of its parent blades, yet still it bears the destruction of the frozen elements.
The Spear of Light is a potent weapon, but those who steal it or do not treat it with the proper respect soon wish that it had never ended up in their hands.
Forged and folded by the ancient and holy methods, Warprender and Weftcleaver have incorporated the very transformations that allow man to traverse the stars into their exotic blades.
These light daggers are the tools of the priests of Death, bringing Her Mercy to those whom suffer.
Forged from the light of the first dawn, of the world, it remains radiant even now, long ages after…
This seemingly normal stake is potentially a lot more then it seems. Few people however can unlock it’s full powers, or would want to.
This weapon did not start out as magical. Nor was it ever enchanted. It was the touch of the Dark Man who made it a "fell item".
"O Victorious Maul, send down your fury!
O Hammer of Justice, bring Dalraaen’s law!
O Weapon of Righteousness, cast out the unlawful!"
- Magistrate Archivinus Kelstori, Ode to the Gavel
With the patronage of Dalraaen, this heavenly mace is the focus of the Magisterium’s strongest order. Its darker roots, however, are hidden even to its wielders, and its very existance threatens the world.
The famed Sigil Swords were a great help to the naval forces of those who served Big Red, and their magic would only serve their owners, much to the anger of the Admirals of the De Madden Company.
An otherwise simple spear, the dread blade of Hatred brings rot and decay to all it strikes, be it armour, body, or soul.
Like magic Methnik’s sword passed through that of his foes….All too late, the blade was at his neck, it burnt, stinging like acid, it slivered through skin and muscle. Methnik crumpled to his knees, then to the floor, his eyes greyed over and he heard faint words, maybe those of his foe? "Your last lesson in this life. Your teacher? A Serivemn"
This blade is one of the fabled Fatal Swords of antiquity, the metal of the blade folded one-million times.
A sword that stores the identity of the wielder. To transfuse the soul to the blade, one must first stab himself through the heart. The person will not die, but lose the freedom of the soul upon real death.
A wonderous weapon bearing the power and grace of the elvish people…
Sages and naturalists frown at the common name given to these strange creatures by the small folk, but sometimes the silliest nicknames for creatures, places and people persevere in the minds of many. “Purifiers”, “Pond Jellies”, “Breath-Stealers”, “Lung-Ticklers” and “River Butterflies” are much less commonly heard appellations for these life forms. Wet Faeries are basically (and simply) a species of fist-sized, fresh-water jellyfish. Several traits steer them toward the peculiar category however. Firstly, Wet Faeries are nearly invisible in the water, much like their marine cousins but even more so. One can swim in a river swarming with these critters and not even notice their presence. Secondly, they possess the unique ability to clean and purify whatever body of water they inhabit. They do this via some sort of biological filtration process, sucking in all toxins present in the water, and releasing it back in its purest form. Needless to say, they are both a blessing and a curse to whichever folk dwell beside the rivers and lakes Wet Faeries inhabit. On one hand, no purer water can be found anywhere than a Wet Faerie lake or pond, and yet, in “pure” water “life” tends in fact to die out, lacking the needed nutrients to prosper. Thirdly, their “sting” is (unfortunately) virulently poisonous to all mammalians. Wet Faeries are loathe to sting anyone or anything, using their barbed fronds as a last line of defense, but if stung, most swimmers will suffer respiratory arrest, and die within minutes, usually drowning before they can make it back to shore.
Alchemists, druids, and less savory characters have studied these creatures over the years, and have predictably found all the ways Wet Faeries could be exploited. Morbidly humorous, some bards find it, that the Poisoners and Assassins Guilds as well as the Healer’s Union, all prize these creatures. The assassins use the extracted venom in obvious fashion, while the priests and healers use the still-living jelly-fish to sterilize other poison potions and to cure those already poisoned on death’s door.
It is known that a certain Earl Von Trumble keeps his vast castle moat stocked with Wet Faeries, the waters so clear that every bone of every one of his past enemies can be clearly seen on the bottom, twenty two feet below.