An item that can be used at any distance when the wielder is in favor with the owner that allows the user to cast spells, even in a null-magic zone.
A powerfull Orb made by Hardom, the Elven god of the crafting of magical items. Its porpose was to stop the constant requests by the Elves.
Gareth turned and squinted uneasily over his shoulder. He could have sworn he heard a high pitched hiss. He turned back to continue through the dim underground passageway. It was then that he saw them. A pair of ruby red eyes, glowing faintly a few feet front of him. He had to look up to see them, and that is saying something, given Gareth’s generous stature. The strike was quick…he had no chance. The last thing he remembered were the eyes hovering above him and the fangs dripping venom. And was that a second set of eyes gleaming beneath the first…?
Flame burns hot, bringing warmth, life, and hope. Anti-Fire burns too, but it devours heat, and saps the will of life. Before the world could be inhabited, all of the coldfire, and anti-fire had to be collected an hidden away safely. The gods did this, placing it in an urn of brass and hiding it away from the world.
A blade of unmatched power. It is desired by many a warrior, and yet, everyone it comes in contact with is destroyed by it.
A christmas gift to my fellow citadelians, made in my favourite medium. Of course, you all know what my gifts are like. But hey, Christmas is a time of giving!
Even though the Gods struggle so, their achievements are temporary at best.
For all beings must dream, and within those dreams dwell the Dreamer.
Come then and succumb to the lord, come then and enter the realm of sleep.
Come then taste the nectar, made of the tears of the dreamer.
-The 5th verse in the Book of the Dreaming Cult
Harbouring the accumalated memories of generations of the Uluun,it offers either great wisdom or raving insanity.
One of the toys of the ruler of the lost realm, the music box of Mordalin gives great powers at an even greater cost.
A white silken mask with burnt edges. A white little mask which eventually led it’s wearer to be burnt at the stake.
The Magenta Rose. A keystone item, its presence defines history. It is a rosebush, an Elven construct, a living reminder, which signifies the relationship between two kingdoms at odds.
A pen? Yes, a pen. It has long been a treasured item for forgers who would like to have their hands on it…
A Nose Ring? Yep, a nose ring. The ancient symbol of power of the trolls and said to have magical abilities….
Lacking in ornamentation, the Black Spear is a relic more than 8000 years old
A powerful stimulant,it is invaluble to the warrior struggling to stave off fatigue on the battle field.
After long pondering and some testing, the Asakran army has finally allowed the use of advanced magic on the battlefield. This is the prototype of intense research.
Formed entirely of shadowstuff, Ranunculus passes through matter and living things. While objects are unaffected by its passing, living creatures, when struck, are stunned and descend instantly into madness, effectively removing them from any battle. Upon spoken command, Ranunculus will instantly return to its owner’s hand.
Unkh-quasti, the great Green Dragon has been defeated by an unknown hero. The hero died in that battle, but his sword remained…
These extremely potent gloves are otherwise, and more commonly known as the “Telekinetic Gauntlets”.
Are you a weakling mage that cant lift a sword to save yourself? Well then, look no further.
The sword of the Half-Elven Warrior-Priest Ryhiron. It was forged by the very God whom Ryhiron serves, as a reward for his extended faith and loyal service.
It is especially effective against those who would defile all that is good and relates to its user through his very mood and thoughts.
Some say it speaks to the wielder, whispering a soft song of serenity and peace.
The Pcs discover an ancient, dusty oil lamp, somewhere in the bowels of a dungeon. Naturally they "rub it", and out pops a wizened, old djinn. So far so good. Then it speaks...
"Ah at last, at last I am free! Now grant me my wish!"
When the PCs explain that they are the ones that should be granted a wish, the malignant djinn explains to them that his particular oil-lamp has a curse placed upon it. Whomsoever releases the entity inside shall be geased to grant the djinn's wish to the best of their ability.
Groans ensue from the party. The djinn rubs his wrinkled hands, grins, and proceeds to name his wish. What could it be?