A dwarven masterwork shield, imbued with the power of wind.
What used to BEE the crown of an old dwarven king has now BEEn made a portable BEE-hive.
A suit of dragon scale armor created from and psychically linked to a still-living dragon.
The faded, yet oddly pristine robes of an ancient healer, this cloth radiates a palpable sense of comfort, of wholeness.
A pair of magical armored gauntlets
An unusual set of armor.
When dealing with magic, there’s power in a name.
"We found 'im alright" mumbled Rizz the bandit, nursing a wound below his right eye. "'e was soaked in blood, 'ead to foot. But no matter 'ow much we tried to 'urt 'im, 'e just laugh'd and kept gett'n up. I don' think 'e'll be leav'n town like ya want'd"
A man in plate armor approaches, but you see no face, for the chilling mist seeping from every joint in the armor obscures the view.
This set of jet-black breastplate is suffused with the power of those long gone.
Honored and cherished by the people of the Ragosi mountains, the Osaki have allowed them to retain their freedom in the face of those who would enslave them.
An arcane substance able to convert kinetic energy directly into matter.
Fear ye not the sorcerer’s might / for ye be wreathed in Baunumdraung’s light!
Twin Shards of the Storm reforged to work in concert, the Gauntlets of the Fallen Frost grant the user power over winter’s weather, but at a certain price…
And from your enemies your only shield shall be blood, and in it you shall thrive.
-Passage from the Samahhi
The Armour of Arrogance would seem to be the answer to a coward’s prayer, but he or she normally ends up wishing that it had never been worn, for it exacts a price of it’s own that may be even worse then the price of cowardice.
Carelessly tossed aside in the middle of some forgotten tomb, this breastplate has survived the rigours of age perfectly. It’s obviously extremely valuable, but it possesses a dark secret.
A reflective sheild, when a weapon intended to harm the wearer of the sheild is seen in its reflection, the weapon will instantly turn to dust.
An armor that senses wearer’s needs?
This chainmail shirt would be usefull to anyone who would use music to weave magic. However, there is a catch…
Sages and naturalists frown at the common name given to these strange creatures by the small folk, but sometimes the silliest nicknames for creatures, places and people persevere in the minds of many. “Purifiers”, “Pond Jellies”, “Breath-Stealers”, “Lung-Ticklers” and “River Butterflies” are much less commonly heard appellations for these life forms. Wet Faeries are basically (and simply) a species of fist-sized, fresh-water jellyfish. Several traits steer them toward the peculiar category however. Firstly, Wet Faeries are nearly invisible in the water, much like their marine cousins but even more so. One can swim in a river swarming with these critters and not even notice their presence. Secondly, they possess the unique ability to clean and purify whatever body of water they inhabit. They do this via some sort of biological filtration process, sucking in all toxins present in the water, and releasing it back in its purest form. Needless to say, they are both a blessing and a curse to whichever folk dwell beside the rivers and lakes Wet Faeries inhabit. On one hand, no purer water can be found anywhere than a Wet Faerie lake or pond, and yet, in “pure” water “life” tends in fact to die out, lacking the needed nutrients to prosper. Thirdly, their “sting” is (unfortunately) virulently poisonous to all mammalians. Wet Faeries are loathe to sting anyone or anything, using their barbed fronds as a last line of defense, but if stung, most swimmers will suffer respiratory arrest, and die within minutes, usually drowning before they can make it back to shore.
Alchemists, druids, and less savory characters have studied these creatures over the years, and have predictably found all the ways Wet Faeries could be exploited. Morbidly humorous, some bards find it, that the Poisoners and Assassins Guilds as well as the Healer’s Union, all prize these creatures. The assassins use the extracted venom in obvious fashion, while the priests and healers use the still-living jelly-fish to sterilize other poison potions and to cure those already poisoned on death’s door.
It is known that a certain Earl Von Trumble keeps his vast castle moat stocked with Wet Faeries, the waters so clear that every bone of every one of his past enemies can be clearly seen on the bottom, twenty two feet below.