Warning: Trickster’s Tankard may result in alcohol abuse, random bar fights and very angry dwarves, half orcs, orcs, giants and anyone else who enjoys their drink.
Use with caution
Zombies make horrible dinner guest. Trying to eat the brains of the host tends to ruin things.
Well, now you can tell them to fork off with this handy little item.
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?
You are the lovers rock
The rock that I cling to
You’re the one
The one I swim to in a storm
Like a lovers rock
- Sade "Lovers Rock"
With no helm or hat, closer inspection reveals that part of his face has rotted away. "Give me orders!"
A malaign substance that can bring a lingering, horrible end.
A wet brown sack… FULL OF MAGGOTS!
Tired of giving your players a cache of non-descript diamonds, plain amethysts, and simple sapphires?
Stand out in the wind on a hilltop where the grass is stirred by a starry sky and gaze into the black vault for long enough to witness Helda sow her seed.
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.
Life is like a cheese, it starts off milk, then it curdles, and then it ages and you hope for the best.
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
The Sergeant did not have to clear his throat. He could just begin - at full volume - and instantly quiet the room of recruits. "The Remote Gun Platform. You worms would know it as a Tankbot. Is your best friend on the battlefield next to the guy sitting beside you. You will come to love this thing for its functionality, its ability to see the enemy, and for its ability to be blown up instead of you. "
A tool for Diviners, a toy for children. These little orbs have many uses.
Sure you loot the area, but what about the creatures’ actual coffins that they were buried in?
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.
The old clock tower stands tall, but the bulk of the uppermost storey is crumbling and unsafe, with gaping cracks in the walls. The metal struts and girders supporting the great bronze bells are still intact, though, and the bells survive. The grotesque gargoyles and arabesques which decorated the original design have either fallen into the street (once or twice a year more bricks fall from the tower, prompting calls for its demolition) or have been defaced, but the main doors to the clock tower are still intact and show signs of being kept in working order. This is the home of The Captains, clad in raggedy clothes, with sooty faces, and perpetually runny noses. But behind each set of eyes is the look of a survivor. They live to stick together and make it through each day. Older than their years in many ways, the friendship they share with each other and Wims ghost keeps the core of a childs innocence and hope alive in each. But they are still very suspicious of outsiders. They are a group of street children who live in the clock tower. Some are orphans, some runaways, and some nomads who occasionally return to their homes. But they’re all poor, dirty and perpetually hungry, as well as being wily, unscrupulous and mischievous in a fairly brutal way. Enough of them have suffered at the hands of adults for all of them to be wary of any grown-ups, particularly ones who ask too many questions, although with hard work and a lot of food it might be possible to win the confidence or even the trust of a few of them.