A rare sight, but one dreaded by the foes of dwarvendom.
Tales are leaking from below the Iron Hills, that an unnamed winged terror can be seen on the sky on the darkest of nights. What creature it is, nobody knows, but some of the disappearances in the harsh place are said to be its work. If the moon is hidden, nightly travellers are warned to stay from roads and open places.
The most guarded secret of the Ancients, was the secret of flight.
Few cities could stand long before the invincible "Firedrake", the Hegemon’s mightiest vessel of war.
This item provides the user access to other realms in a small package.
The passenger said, “It sounds like your wind chime is broken, or at least out of tune.” The first mate just smiled. “That chime is music to a sailor’s ears, it is,” he said. “We will have smooth sailing this day.”
It was a fine harness and reins. The leather was soft and well tooled. The bit was so shiney one thought it could be silver. It looked like no bit and bridle that he had ever seen. Yet, it seemed familiar, like he had heard stories about this before.
Magical gem that scrys storms, and allows the wielder to “walk” them.
Once a year, Father Olaf delivers presents to all the people of the world in one night.How does he do it? With the help of the Sleigh of the Storm, and the vital Shard of the Storm within it.
The proud dwarven Captain Dugfar stood atop his mighty machine of magic and stone looking down the mountain they had just emerged from; letting the wind whip his beard over his shoulder… "This is a proud day for the Dwarves!" He bellowed. "...and this is just the start!"
Deep within the bowels of the perilous labyrinth, the fearless heroes come upon a grand, ornate chest. Eager for more plunder to line their pockets with, they heave up the lid - to find nothing. A red herring? Maybe not.
A mid-sized sailing ship with an embedded Shard of the Storm.
A world reknown jester was no fool when his mis-applied one of his amusing spells to create a unique way to carry his loot.
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Tales of the Phantom Ship
From Top to keel ablaze
It sails the wide northumbrian strait
no-one knows her name.
It’s a ship afire they cry
Hard against the wind it sails
No-one can say why
Lennie Gallant (Breakwater, 1988)