It was nothing more than a child’s plaything until the sorcerer got hold of it…
Wha—is that a miniature thunderstorm in that thing?
Hold through, little Selva, do not close your eyes. It is not sleep, that comes so lightly to you. Soon you will rest under the Shroud, and wake up when the spring comes.
The tears of a blinded god created it.
Here lad, you take it. We’ve been through a lot this pot and I, ever since the last Great War, but you’re too young to remember that one. I had this with me in all my campaigns after that. The Althial Border Wars, the rising of the Dragon Lords, the Dwarven Rage… Ah but I’m old and toothless now an’ it’s no use to me. Take the pot lad, use it well. At least you’ll always be guarenteed a reasonable meal
A tool for Diviners, a toy for children. These little orbs have many uses.
The fey are strange, but occasionally, just occasionally, their actions make sense.
A magical rope with many useful properties.
Find a penny, pick it up.
And all the day you’ll have good luck.
An assortment of cures scattered to all ends of Strolen’s domain!
An item to increase the comfort of the dreaded Cold Camp.
Spare parts of the Fantasy sort.
"Tired of lugging about heavy quivers full of arrows?"
Some items simply go wrong, that happens from time to time. But some are created by weird minds, even downright deranged ones, minds too sick to be healed. Guess where this one comes from.
With but a word, the small mantis made of fine copper wire came to life; growing at an alarming rate, ready to defend its owner…
Some items are either so heretical in nature, insightful, feared, coveted, or powerful, that if discovered, they would change the world around them. Yet, how many lie forgotten on a dusty old shelf?
Dust created to allow seeing invisible creatures of all kinds, even if immaterial.
A floating sphere of rusted iron spikes, no good can come of this.
Got a small character who can’t knock as loud as you would like? Or maybe you’ve got sensitive fingers? Worry no longer, the portable doorknocker is here!
Beauty is siad to be in the eye of the beholder. Well, now it can be in the hand too, depending on what the peeping tom in you wants to look at with this bag.
Oazduke's Vengeful Head.
The head haunts all headsman and executioners.
A floating, bloody head, long separated from its body, is a particular legend among a very particular group of people, executioners, specifically those that chop heads from a block for a living. It was that infamous highway robber, Oazduke the Vengeful, who when finally captured and put to the axe, screamed his foul hex, seconds before his head flew off.
"You will know it is me when I'm through
A curse on your ilk and on you!
May my severed head haunt you eternal
Frightening you headsmen infernal!"
Years later, not one but two(!) weary, puffy-eyed, spooked, headsmen, haunted day and night by Oazduke's insufferable severed head, approach the party cleric in order to hire him to exorcise the ghost head once and for all.