“Malghoul Etra Galad Morta, Malghoul Etra Galad Morta!” This booming chant repeats itself over and over; I clutch my head wishing it to end. Physically it doesn't cause me pain, but my brain seems to want to explode from some unseen pressure. Wait something is happening, the bloodied mist has finally settled and I feel refreshed from my hard days. I wonder what this bloodied chalice has in store for me.
-Torren Wayhon, Adventurer, lost soul
A muse in a bottle, greatness distilled into a single gulp.
And if you win you get this glowing fiddle made of gold, but if you lose, the Devil gets your soul.
Those who want to use this should be very careful indeed.
Even at the best of times, goblins and alchemy don’t mix well…
Yazzard hasn’t been the same since getting struck by lightning. Neither has his cloak.
The shamans of the Keirn tribe Ge’stam, would perform rituals of bonding on young warriors who had passed for their right to become warriors. The totem that bonds with the warriors spirit is powerful, yet needs to be cared for as would a suckling baby. Only the proud warriors of the Ge’stam know how to balance the two.
Three manacles created by a devout priest of the Storm Queen. Connected to the storm queen via one of the shards of the storm they are used to take control of any person who wears one.
A goblet created with the pommel of the sword of storms.
A sinister book that forces the reader to relive painful memories by presenting idealized versions of their outcomes.
There are certain things that need not be said, and events best left in the past, to be forgotten. Be careful what you wish for.
Misery, trouble and general bad luck will dog all who drink from the seemingly wonderful Goblet of Sin…
Untold years, laying in the deep
Sheltered in the sepulchre earth
Borne by the dead who never speak
Funeral Gold and Grave Silver
Beware the gift
Beware the giver
It is a good looking ring. It is handsome and worth quite a bit.
“Gold. GOLD. GOLD! Beautiful, wonderous, Gold! I am Rich I tell you. I am the luckiest man alive!”
A well crafted but otherwise ordinary steak knife. It makes the cutting of meat sooooooo easy.
Some games are played to be won, others can only be lost.
Bestowed by the pagan Godess Inar,upon the king of Silamarh in the his nation’s most dire time of need,it allowed to destroy nigh single-handed,the great horde of the infamous barbarian war-chief,Hordan.
The classic sword of the incorrigible munchkin,you think? Not quite.
Princess Matriax was the daughter of Lord Greybaer, known from the war as "The Butcher of ..." a handful of towns and a couple provinces. If that wasn’t enough, the princess had her own guard, troupe of guards, that was hers to see trained and use as she see fit.
She didn’t need a defender, not in the sense of some bodyguard. She was quick to take offense, because it amused her to have an excuse to strike people herself, to "quell the insurgents" herself.
She uses her purse to bash people. Her purse is her defender.
A potent tool of battle for a confident warrior.
“I’ve got to finish it, I’ve got to…”