This particular necklace could be worth 1,000… If you get it to the market fast enough.
A curious dagger, with a blade stained by ancient gore; it has seen many dark deeds, yet goes unsuspected as more than some old piece of junk.
An otherwise simple spear, the dread blade of Hatred brings rot and decay to all it strikes, be it armour, body, or soul.
A vast tome of knowlege that literally gives you the creeps…
Curiosity killed the cat…
Yet another use for the ubiquitous Iron Spike.
Tantalum is a rare, blue-grey metal that is found deep within the chasms of Ferchiun*. Immune to all but the strongest acids, if more had heard of it would be more sought after. It is nearly as hard as adamantine and holds an edge equally as well. Those few who believed such a tale did not return from their quest to gather any, or if they did, it was not to the homes from which they came.
So much gone, so much I can’t remember. but I have my spells, and that is all I need to deal with you.
Last words of Thuulgar the Wicked
The Wands were created by the Aldruku as a weapon to finally destroy their Nyorian enemies.
The cloud doesnt have much of a smell. It looks like fog until it’s on you and then it’s two late. A couple of sucking breaths and your chest is one fire and your eyes are bleeding. Terrible stuff, but if you think it is tough on the living, you should see what it does to the dead
PVT Thomas Quinn.
A fine chessboard indeed, but do not dwell overlong on your moves…
A standard book of evil.
A handsome bed set, obviously expensive and likely both old, and imported.
The tomb robber smashed his way into the royal barrow, and shone his torch around. Painted upon the walls was a fresco of a king pulling a sword from a stone, and in front of the sarcophagus was a large lump of lead with a sword hilt within it. He pulled at the hilt and grinned as a sword with it’s blade glowing a soft green emerged from the lead, wondering how much money he could sell it for.
In seeking to escape serving the Lord of Ravens many a hope flickered and died, for those who oppose him end up serving him after all.
The grave robber grinned as he left the royal barrow, his pockets full of stolen gold, and dressed in a helmet and chainmail shirt stolen from the now naked, decomposing body of the king. The explosion that followed ten seconds after he stepped into the sunlight wiped the smile from his face and blew his body into pieces. Had he studied metallurgy, he would have known that the armour was made of pure Orthacarium and he would have left it alone, and escaped the barrow with his life.
Once wielded by the priests of the Jackal God Uep-Hawet, their heirs will suffer no others to possess it…
Rustcaller Toxin is not a tool of assassination, but instead a weapon of random terror.
Revenge, but at what cost?
A brace of sleep-related poisons.