- Stop ogling!
- I wasn't
- You can't take your eyes off her even now!
Only the good looking can't see it
Few know the secret behind the Flying Monks of Ka-zin is not entirely due to their remarkable skill at acrobatics, but also in the colorful belts they wore.
The sound was most troublesome. Long have I been prisoner to Kormack and his evil designs, and the torturous sounds my heart has been cursed to endure has left me cold inside. I endure and ignore. Cold to the pain and the suffering of poor souls around me. Their Fate forsworn as soon as they enter His lair. But this, this atrocity has pierced my now icebound heart and cracked deep into my very soul. The children... The mewling babes that know nothing of their future, nothing of the joys of life. Innocent of horrors of the world and the dread future it holds. How short that future is. I can not get the sound of the mewling infants from my mind, it is seared into memory as a brand on an animals flank forever to remain. Some have even laughed right up till the end and nothing is more damaging to ones sanity than a broken childs laugh.
Master Blacksmith Heaf Astes
A fine cloak that allows the wearer to see from a statue's eyes.
"I once went questin' for Alexander Sehtolc's five clothes. Each item has a magic power that the wearer can use, see. And when you get all seven, each power is amplified. 'Course, I never could find Alex's boots."
-Old Gerald, man in the pub.
You shall carry your sibling, be his support and guide.
He shall be your shelter, guardian, aegis firm.
United you stand, divided you fall.
Moon Water Jewel was a woman of breathtaking beauty, so no ordinary gift would do.
I am the mask that grins and lies
I'll hide your face and shield your eyes....
Time to test yet another one, He thought as he approached the bus. He withdrew the quarters from his pocket, the exact fare. Marvelous!
Vampiric panties? What a base a vulgar term, they are discretionary undergarments. Please, they are Braies of the Tides.
It's just a shoddy old hand bag, pay it no mind.
It looked like a massive landslide, but, just before it slammed into us it turned into a bunch of laughing dwarven children!
The mark of Kronath’s ultimate favor, the Cloak of Dusk is held by her Hunter, her chosen avatar to hunt the living dead, and return them to her embrace.
"He’d look a lot more majestic up there if he weren’t wobbling all over the place!"
The volcano robe as it is called houses the elemental power of fire.
Spennymore’s Skating Boots look normal to the untrained eye. It is difficult to mentally connect them to the legends that cling to them, of those who would attack the wearer suddenly ending up head over heels.
With a twitch of the leg and the push of a button; Houston’s boots emitted a massive amount of steam and he was sent headlong into the air.
Set of steam-lined gloves with in-built warming circuit.
"Okay, so I can’t run. But look at me jump!"
Cold Comfort is a long-sword of star-steel, its blade giving off a wan, blueish light. Its grip is wrapped tightly in snow-serpent hide, and its pommel bears a single opalescent gemstone.
This blade is enchanted in such a way, that whoever wields it, begins to fall completely and irrevocably "in love" with the weapon. This love does not manifest itself as the expected reverence and bond formed between any warrior and his weapon, but as a deeper, truer love, one has for a soul-mate of the same species! The longer the wielder carries Cold Comfort the stronger and more disturbing this love becomes, and only the most powerful of magicks can potentially break the sword's insidious spell. The blade's owner will even speak to and coo to the weapon, convinced that the sword understands and returns this epic love.
If the blade's wielder somehow loses the weapon or has it taken away, they will become inconsolable, and will predictably go to "ends of the earth and back" to retrieve it at any cost. Such is the weapon's curse that even separation from it does not damper the feelings the owner has for the sword. Legends tell of several distraught and mind-addled knights who even years after losing the blade, still wander the country-side searching for their lost love. And woe be to the "new lover" if and when they find him or her.