This is a light armor developed by a smart -now master- alchemist. It is a light, gives decent protection, is of high quaility and thin enough to not be noticable in public. In short the perfect armor for travellers that don’t want draw attention to themselves.
A shield of odd design, created not only to parry, but to destroy the foe’s ability to attack.
The shield of the gods forged from the sun by Apollo himself but how can it be…...........
The Kite Shield of Caladin, passed down to son from father in the Whitewing Family…
Pulsating dry white, red, orange and amber hues—- the air shimmered as the fire spirits leapt forth to and fro in the pyre. Tendrils of black carnal essence twined and twixed into the night sky barring the waxing moon from sight. The pyre burned bright as the brave and the cowardly both made their passage in preparation for the next battle and deep within the hellish inferno a golden hue developed separate from skeletal coals that breathed life with every breath of the conflagration.
The searing radiation of the holocaust gave way to the black heat as dawn emerged victorious of the night. The souls of the warriors had departed, but in corporal ashes remained a warm and coppery glow.
The bronze half plate of the Flame Knight, this armor serves to protect the wearer with the blessing of the Lord of Fire.
A magical synthetic limb, with the power to call Lightning and Thunder.
A guaranteed life-saver in some situations, a good armor anytime. Several miraculous death-and-return situations were observed on its wearers, but seldom attributed to the simple leather armor.
A full suit that can absorb one magic spell at a time. When a spell is cast at the wearer the armor sucks up the spells affects and stores them until the wearer directs them somewhere else.
Idea from the Aeneid. Could make an intriguing encounter when searching for firewood..."Quite near there happened to be a mound of earth, at the highest part of which were growing thickets of cornel and a dense cluster of spiky myrtle-stems. I went up there and tried to wrench the green growth from the ground to provide a leafy covering for our altar. There I was confronted by a horrible and astounding miracle. For from the first bush which I tried to break off...blood oozed in dark drops, fouling the earth with its spots...A piteous moan came from the base of the mound and I heard a human voice answering me: 'Why, Aeneas, must you rend a poor sufferer? I am buried here...for I am Polydorus. Here death overpowered me in a crop of piercing iron-pointed spears. And so a crop resembling javelins has grown over me...'"