Ghostly flaming apparition of a blade, slayer of spectres and all that is ethereal, wielded by its durable hilt inlaid in gold, silver, ivory and white pearls. It can turn the tide when fighting the intangible.
The shield of the gods forged from the sun by Apollo himself but how can it be…...........
“Odd style, you present yourself with.”
“Yes indeed, it suits me well enough.”
::lunge:: ::parry:: ::cross:: ::reposte:: ::parry::
“Strange you lead with your dagger, yet you attack in defend with your right…”
“I’d honor you with a flourish from my left but that would hardly be fair…”
“First blood it is, on guard!”
The Kite Shield of Caladin, passed down to son from father in the Whitewing Family…
When the Reverend Fury had his old sword reforged, it was done for one purpose: to assist him in his quest to wipe the undead from the earth.
Pulsating dry white, red, orange and amber hues—- the air shimmered as the fire spirits leapt forth to and fro in the pyre. Tendrils of black carnal essence twined and twixed into the night sky barring the waxing moon from sight. The pyre burned bright as the brave and the cowardly both made their passage in preparation for the next battle and deep within the hellish inferno a golden hue developed separate from skeletal coals that breathed life with every breath of the conflagration.
The searing radiation of the holocaust gave way to the black heat as dawn emerged victorious of the night. The souls of the warriors had departed, but in corporal ashes remained a warm and coppery glow.
A legendary sword used to hunt enemy leaders.
A legendary sword that might save your life.
A legendary axe—once you are hit, there is no escape.
Sometimes a sword’s value is not determined by magical properties, of gilding and jewels. Sometimes it’s value comes from it’s deeds and it’s history
This weapon is a fine basket-hilted broadsword, with a long sharp iron blade and an aura of power about it that can be sensed faintly by everybody. Those who pick it up for the first time feel safer with the sword in their hand then without it.A large purple amythest jewel is set in the sword’s basket hilt. The user senses that if they press the emerald, others will become scared of them…
“Bah!” The bowman cried, for his bow had fallen apart in his very hands, after firing but one arrow! “Wait until I get to that weaponsmith. These arrows are obviously cursed!” The bowman discarded the quiver of 200 arrows by the road, where scavengers found it, and each separate arrow went their own ways with different owners, as time passed. Some found them cursed. Others, found that they may not be as cursed as one thinks.
This rod was created by the great mage Nani. She died before the final incantation was finished and so the rod lacks much of its intended power…
“Across my back rests the Scorpion’s Tail; a long, narrow, scythe-like thorn forged of Bronzed Imuricum, tempered with the blood of the Dragonkind, those ancient scourges of man, and sharpened against scale and talon alike.”
Some might call it a clawed glove. That would be Anthrocentric. It, and items like it, are magic weapons for being that use magic and do not use weapons, but use their claws. The Clawed Races uses these "claws" to enhance their natural combative ability.
The bronze half plate of the Flame Knight, this armor serves to protect the wearer with the blessing of the Lord of Fire.
The silver and gold longsword of a knight of flame.
One set was forged with love, the other with hate. But they were both powerful weapons.
A magical synthetic limb, with the power to call Lightning and Thunder.
The Arch-Angel Zeviah used this sword to purge the world of Evil so the Gods could create life…
As the PCs travel the road, right after a bend they hear a sharp whistle and call: "Heeey, not so lazy, move your asses!" It is a large man that calls, and there are unwilling workers that listen. A small company, 10-15 men work on the road, push boulders aside, dig up roots from under the road, etc. The large man that shouted turns to you, smiles fast and mutters something under his breath, sounds like cursing some lazy worker. "Where does the road bring you from, travellers?" And does a little small-talk.
And what is really happening? A group of bandits is 'adapting' the road for shady purposes. The road will not be wider, but tighter, with enough cover around (and a few traps perhaps), and will become an ideal spot for ambushing travellers or entire caravans. The bandit leader wants them all to appear harmless. The 'lazy worker' he cursed was actually a guard that should give warning before any travellers come around (fallen asleep). Not surprisingly, the boss may decide for an ambush even now.