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…
A wild species, vinus homophagus, more akin to sea-grape rather than the terrestrial variety, is not a monster despite its fanciful name. The grapes, a deep purple color when in bloom, and oozing dewdrops of perspiration, like the most prized and delectable of drinking wine grapes, do however deserve their moniker. Wine made from this fruit, is deadly to most humanoids, as is the raw berry if plucked and eaten from the vine. It is the unnatural chemical concoction found within the fruit’s tart skin, which gives the man-eating grape its name. The chemical stew found inside each berry, functions as a necrotic agent, the same as found in some species of venomous snakes.
The grapes literally eat their victims from the inside out, via cell death, melting and destroying the organs in quick succession.
The tribes of Pra-Oohk Crater, of the jungles of Ghlush are known to sell the fermented “wine” of this grape to merchants of distant lands. Sadly, the taste of the concoction is divine when first quaffed, and even worse, the man-eating grape wine will never detect as poisonous via mundane means, its horrid natures somehow masking all attempts. Luckily the man-eating grapes are extremely rare, and endemic to humid jungles.