The cover depicts a stylized rose with one drop of blood dripping from one of its thorns.
(But is there more than meets the eye with this book, of bloody course there is!)
After the sorceress Rigalene died, those going through her estate were puzzled. Where were all her books? And how would they find homes for all these cats?
A young scholar and mage creates a book to hold all the knowlage he discoverd without haveing to carry a library or destroy what he wrote.
The Unic Horn can be used to utter audible spells by blowing through the horns and bone resonator.
Legacy of the sorcerous Shetam Kham, these complex rites allow even the most evil of accursed items to be reclaimed.
They say the walls have ears. Here we have a book that does….
Book with initially blank pages which records the life of the holder from the time it is picked up to the day someone else picks it up, at which point it starts again as blank pages.
Flip. Flip. Flip. Flip. The sound softly echoed in the Sanctum’s walls.
A Wizard’s most prized possesion is his Spellbook and with this item it will be safe from the eyes of others.
Ever had that oh-so-annoying companion, that just wouldnt shut up? Here is the perfect remedy.
Even the most useless of items can become something more if a legendary mage carries it around for a couple of centuries.
Will this tome be the saviour or the bane of your heroes?
The Assassin looked at the scroll, smiled and put it away. His work was done…
Deep within a strange labyrinth, a book wields the magic of its former master. Illusion becomes reality.
AutoMedon – A mechanical poet of renown not for his vast catalog of poetry, but for his complete lack of anything written or spoken, having had no output in his programmed profession. His creator is unknown or at least unaccredited, and there are those in great number in the artistic world who wonder and marvel at his inability to produce poetry, crediting that flaw to his creator who is unknown or at least un-credited. There is also a small faction of scholars who believe that when he finally, finally speaks, it will be the most beautiful or sorrowful verse ever spoke or will ever be spoken. Whether his creator is among either group or dead is unknown. AutoMedon sits alone under a tin roofed enclosure, upon a stone chair, with his gaze off in the distant as if thinking.
“It’s strange to look at this mechanical man and think what thoughts are working through its’ workings or even if the damn thing is” – Aralis of Qurim, poet and pottery salesman