“Yes, these boots are very fine,” said Smoke’s Empty Lens, “But I do not care for them, nor for you.”
Firefly River wept a single tear and went away…
Fiery-Feathered Phembu, the First Among Pheasants, went to Moeqhu-Qaz, the Leader of the Seven Sand Dragons!
Many men have looked at the birds and envied thier innocent flight, and looked at the fish and envied thier serene swimming. Felonious Twist was a mage that saw a connection.
A cloak that turns all those who look at the wearer into a quivering mass of tears.
A set of gloves crafted by none other than our friendly resident soul-mage, Tarquin. Designed specifically to give a physical attack that is effective even with his weak body.
Invented by a pragmatic clothier and a wizard-for-hire, the Tourniquet Tunic is made for use on the battlefield.
A dark emperors gloves that make an excelent weapon and torture tool.
A pair of soft velvet skull caps which promote the virtues of rationality, logic and good judgement.
Getting the favour of a Necromancer, and asking for a magical cloak? Sure, why not.
The old boots of a farmer long dead. The hole in the bottom sudjests many things. But its cursed P’owers go B’eyond just a boot.
The dead will think you one of their own with this handy, though disturbing, piece of equipment.
Stone Gauntlets crafted from the hands of a Stone Golem that are both beneficial and a burden to the user…
Ever wish you looked a little tougher than you actually are? Well, the Cowl of False Reputation has you covered.
These magical gloves will make sure your fancy suit isn’t ruined by the odd stain or spill.
Simple cloth armour with a not so simple secret.
A weird way to carry and conceal your stuff.
A simple leather harness covered with an odd assortment of axes.
Great getaway boots
“First, I nibbled on his earlobe. Then, I bit into it, letting the red, red blood roll down his neck. Then, when he screamed and started tearing at me, I ripped the flesh from his hand. Ah, it tasted so good! Yes, yes! Then, I ripped through his jugular, and bit through his spine! Yessss…..”
bra, holding, concealment, sexy
The Nomin gypsies have a fiddling competition every year, known as the Danse de Velose. Beaters hit out the rhythm on taut drums and the competitors start to play, slowly at first. Youngsters can compete, but are soon pulled away by worried mothers, before the competition becomes too dangerous. After two hours the haunting tune has become dazzlingly fast. You can resign at any time, but the moment you make a mistake you receive an arrow through the neck. Strings may snap, but the players must play on. The whole affair never lasts much longer than three hours, and the last fiddler playing is crowned king of the gypsies.