A curious piece of technology that is both disturbingly retro-horror and cutting edge arcanotech, the head in a jar.
“No! I didn’t steal those! It was the bleedin’ cloak I tell you!”
A horrific device only employed by the most black hearted of magic users.
"That one, you might want to be careful with that. It doesn't like people..."
"A potion? "
As part of the global war on terror, a goverment sponsored special science group resumed the CIA's MKGAMMA program for improved interrogation drugs. The results, Serum 87 and Serum 87X (S-87 and S-87X) became the most effective interrogation agents available to man.
Crafted from the leg bone of the slain wyrm Ashirkelenge, this rod has tremendous magical power in the right hands.
Technology in the Cosmic Era can become corrupted and infested. When this happens to a mecha, the result in codenamed a Hekatonkheire.
An ornate reliquary box, covered in fine metalwork that twists the eye and causes headaches.
Over the centuries, the thieves, assassins and secret agents who operate within the underworld have come up with many ingenious devices for stealing and murdering, many of which are disguised well enough to be carried in plain sight.
The greatest failure of the Arch Mage Calypso is his one legacy sought by Emporers, Dragons, and Gods.
While technically alive, magnagogs have little in the way of personality and are driven via telepathic command.
Once the source of power for a cult now scattered, this item acts as both sacrificial altar and food grill.
Moon Water Jewel was a woman of breathtaking beauty, so no ordinary gift would do.
I had me a dream once. Just after I *acquired* this here knife. Only the knife was a bit shinier and I was in an alley somewhere. I dunno, maybe it was Brie or Holsten, someplace like that. Anyways, I'm walking down this alley when I comes across some dumb bloke trying to shortcut his way to market. Like *my* alley is a god-d**ned thoroughfare for just anyone!
A simple way to a fate most dreadful.
The Writer glimpsed it in his journeys through the various hells, but he paid no heed to it. His tale was about the afterlife and the punishments therein, not the arms and armor of the Darkness.
a slivery blade with a barbed hook at the end the blade shineing red as the light hits it
Fedolf, the notorious headsman of Iddland, is known as much for his beheadings as for his operatic arias of doom. A tower of power, standing nearly seven feet tall, and weighing in at almost four hundred pounds, Fedolf strikes fear in all onlookers, especially when he dons his executioner's hood, and goes shirtless, wielding his gigantic double-bladed pole-axe, on his way to the headsman's block. He possesses a beautiful singing voice, and will often send off his charges into the next life, while belting out baritone dirges and antiquated arias, usually involving death, destiny, and duty, in heavy doses.