"No, don't touch...that. Too late."
Fanaticism can be just as dangerous as fire. Spreading like fire, it could spark rebellion and could lead towards violence. As a way to curb devotion to the abstract, king Hareth of Garilroot asked his Mages to come up with a solution for those too invested in an ideal.
No chain is heavier than the one forged by the passage of years.
The Deathstick is a potent weapon, but it may well do more damage to it's user then the target, as it has not been perfected by it's creators yet.
Morcar’s ring is a marvel to behold, capable of healing wounds…but be sure that you do not tax it’s powers too far and die wearing it, or you will become a true horror to behold.
Last night, your buddy was thinking about calling one of those crazy psychic hotlines, he was really depressed, his girlfriend dumped him, and he wanted some good news. You know they’re all a scam, they give you some advice that could apply to everyone and a large bill to boot. You told him to go for it.
But now he’s missing. All you have is his cell phone, and something is wrong with it. You found it in your toilet today. Yeah, your toilet. It’s got all his old numbers and a few you don’t recognize. You tried to call some, but all you got was a what sounded like a bunch of voices muttering at once. What the hell is going on here?
As soon as he had set his eyes upon The Sword of all Swords he knew it must be the perfect blade for him. And he would stop at nothing to possess it!
Fandune screamed as the inmate’s hands locked around his neck. With quick thinking and a little luck he managed to mutter the right words and waggle his fingers perfectly for the curse. The inmates fingers bent back upon themselves and were rendered useless.
Seeing her boyfriend, Amber opened her mouth to tell him her true name, but the Masking Bracelet that she was wearing took control, and forced her to keep her mouth shut and walk away.
"Wear this ring, My Student, and you will never perform another act of perversion and thus remain pure."
The Waresian Armoire dates back to the height of the kingdom of Waresia, a period known for it’s love of baroque and the macabre
Hammered from Stygian steel and inlaid with demonbone and bejeweled with demon jade and black diamonds, the blackest of blackguards are filled with lust and envy to possess this armor
...The light reflected off its pale green surface, glinting off what seemed to be veins coursing through the stone. A curious ring, just lying there as if asking to be found…
Machines powered by this battery can gain some interesting traits from their deceased co-worker, the Battery of the Damned.
I have found the Book of Remembrances in the royal library… a wellspring of knowledge directly from the mouths of great rulers and scholars of the past… my only wish is that I might discover a way to add my own knowledge to this work.
T’Arkia, Imperial High Mage
An Elven made memory stone
A rare and diseased jewel, a canker fallen from the heavens
Warning: Trickster’s Tankard may result in alcohol abuse, random bar fights and very angry dwarves, half orcs, orcs, giants and anyone else who enjoys their drink.
Use with caution
"Never seen anything like it before. Two strikes, and the room was awash in blood."
You are the lovers rock
The rock that I cling to
You’re the one
The one I swim to in a storm
Like a lovers rock
- Sade "Lovers Rock"
Cold Comfort is a long-sword of star-steel, its blade giving off a wan, blueish light. Its grip is wrapped tightly in snow-serpent hide, and its pommel bears a single opalescent gemstone.
This blade is enchanted in such a way, that whoever wields it, begins to fall completely and irrevocably "in love" with the weapon. This love does not manifest itself as the expected reverence and bond formed between any warrior and his weapon, but as a deeper, truer love, one has for a soul-mate of the same species! The longer the wielder carries Cold Comfort the stronger and more disturbing this love becomes, and only the most powerful of magicks can potentially break the sword's insidious spell. The blade's owner will even speak to and coo to the weapon, convinced that the sword understands and returns this epic love.
If the blade's wielder somehow loses the weapon or has it taken away, they will become inconsolable, and will predictably go to "ends of the earth and back" to retrieve it at any cost. Such is the weapon's curse that even separation from it does not damper the feelings the owner has for the sword. Legends tell of several distraught and mind-addled knights who even years after losing the blade, still wander the country-side searching for their lost love. And woe be to the "new lover" if and when they find him or her.