Lightning steel is a miraculous metal formed from an alloy of iron, carbon, silver and pure captured lightning.
The Essence of Light, mined from the body of a fallen Star-Child.
A magical Salt, a dangerous bane against ice and snow…
Crystals have long be heralded as recepticals of magic power. Ice too, is a crystal.
A metal with the properties of ordinary gold, which has the properties of pure silver when covered with water.
"What does this marveous ointment do you ask? It’s easily worth the 50 gold an ounce I’m selling it to you for my friend, I can promise you that. ... You still want to know what it does? Well, it ... it sorta ... and then it ... Here! Just try a sample here and see!"
"kara diamos ica" the wind stopped, and for a moment he was deaf to the world, and then his hearing returned.
as he looked around him and his bod began to warm agian after hours of finding a spot to shelter from the winter strom that was raging in the skies.
"IT WORKED!, im safe, now i only need to make my way to the academy"
Pantarbe, floating rock, skystone, drifting earth…
A magical, multi-dimensional crystal that damages all it touches, even reality.
Developed in a number of places any number of times, MoonInk has been applied in any number of ways.
A piece of crystallized magic.
A glowing green stone flowing with the elemental power of evil
A useful magical metal with a dynamic nature.
In the interplay between nations, espionage has always been a tool of statecraft. Those realms with magic have opened to them many more tools for application to spycraft.
Anything is possible with the capricous power of this Glyph.
A Magical Stone, look into it and see what you need to, but beware…
Dorlyanic Crystal is a substance from which the ancient Dorlyans, godling-race of a distant planet, forged their mighty weapons. Weapons made from it cleave the flesh of the supernatural and the extraterrestrial like a hot knife through butter.
A substance, born of the cold and adapted to the warmth of the human world. Its natural state is a mercury type liquid but when held in frozen conditions the wielder may will it to take any form desired. Their only limit is the amount of liquid they have.
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.