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!"
"What do you mean I changed clothes?"
"Sir- did you steal that cloak"
"Of course not! Haven’t you seen fabric change color before?"
Why is all the rum gone?
That crazy fellow over there just poured it all into his boots!
Now with Bonus Item!
We were quite the motley band, even for adventuresome sorts. Yet being in a party can bring even the oddest people close. Let me tell you a story.
We were on the road to Maltrell and had been for a week. Tempers were short. We had been thrown together by various guilds, temples, and noble houses, and few of us wanted to be here. We had not come to know each other at this point, let alone trust each other. I personally was thinking about breaking my contract. Then I saw it.
Sitting on a log by the side of the quick camp we had for a break were our two of our oddest members. Ton was a bald holy man of the Ancient Dragon Temple. His ways were odd and nobody truly understood him. He was the only man who could act like a servant, yet still have an imperious superior than thou attitude. Sitting with him was good old Darren. Darren was his opposite. He was a cat folk, and very city, very Parisian, if you know what I mean. He was a total dandy, with tons of clothes, foppish snobby attitude, and pretenses to nobility, honor, and station beyond his station. Gods know, I miss that cat.
Anyways, the two were sitting together, had been for a bit I guess. They seemed to be hitting it off, smiling and talking. I could not see what those two could have in common, the most austere and the most…umm worldly.. of our party. When I came up to ask, "What was so funny"? They both leaned back and showed me their feet, wiggling their toes, though they were wearing something shoe-ish. When I looked at them perplexed like, they both burst into genuine laughter. Darren made some comment about only they wore the finest footwear. There was some joke that I did not know. It annoyed me at the time, but to be honest… it was that laughter that held us together. It showed that even though we did come from different places and had different positions, we had things in common - even if they be shoes- and could be as one. One by one, we came to know each other and realized that, as a party, we could complete our mission.
Ever want to be half-man half-horse? Probably not, but these shoes can make it happen.
"Hell hath no fury like MY RIGHT FOOT!" Shardath yelled as he stomped upon the holy ground.
Frosty the Snowman. Is a fairytale they say. He was made of snow. But the children know. How he came to life one day…
There must have been some magic. In that old silk hat they found. For when they placed it on his head. He began to dance around…
It is said that the metal cap of her beekeeper’s hat has a magical substance found in enchantment devices.
Sometimes, you just need to stash something away - some spare cash, a holdout weapon, your gender…
"No this is not a mispelling", the marketing suit continued, "it is a new way to express yourself, express your interests, and get your personal message…. or your corporate one across." He surveyed the room. "It is a new consumer item combining things people need with what they want."
Some say you can’t keep a good undead down. They’ve obviously not come face to foot with these boots.
A cult's theology is binding on the god involved: it is possible for that god to believe (and see, just like Winston Smith in 1984) that other gods are mythical, or jumped-up demons, or failing older spirits, even while those gods actually exist and thrive and act in the cosmos, even while working against him.