He was frantically pointing towards the glowing mountain. “We need to cast The Spell!”, Bothar screamed!
I held up the scroll we all had risked our lives to get. “Nobody can cast this spell without a prepared mystic space and ritual equipment. It would be suicide,” I said. “Not even him,” I jerked my thumb towards the Magi who smiled slyly.
Silently, he unstrapped that bolt of cloth he had been carrying since I had known him. He unfurled it, tamped it down, with small spikes, pulled a small apothecary chest out, placed and lit four candles on the cloth, drew some lines with some handy chalk, unpacked his remaining tools, then he held his hand out expectantly for the scroll. It took a fraction of a candle mark.
“Solomontic Rug,” he said quietly. “The key to mastery is knowing and having the right tools, be they physical, mental, or magical, and having them ready when you need them.”
Be wary, adventurer, of the smoke of Mal’Mennoth, that dread, choking cloud that blots out the very sun! Be wary, adventurer, of the demon’s dread shadow, of the things that prey on your mind!
Three manacles created by a devout priest of the Storm Queen. Connected to the storm queen via one of the shards of the storm they are used to take control of any person who wears one.
Thirteen hundred years ago, a mad powerful wizard had an estate in the area that became the county of Corvis. Over his 800 year span, he created thousands of magikal items of various types and power level. While many were "mighty", there were a large number of lesser and trivial orbs and trinkets. This is their scroll
There are certain things that need not be said, and events best left in the past, to be forgotten. Be careful what you wish for.
Residing in the core of this giant black megalithic structure built to resemble a crude representation of a lightning bolt, lies a Shard of the Storm.
And a lot else..
A divinely aware ornament, this device serves to conceal and hide from the most powerful of beings…
Within the chest of a wizardly tool, there beats a Shard heart, deeming the master a fool.
You should feel proud today, knowing that you will be the reason why another person will live. Why they will escape the brink of death and be able to heal all injuries. This is a great thing and you should feel elation knowing because of you, they will live. Unfortunately you must die for them to live; such is the way of the world.
-Inganno - Follower of Caedmon, Alchemist of Shadow
Though it is a called a trident, it is actually a magic sword of the truest type. It is a mystical device used in ritual magic.
This Legendary Item, originally called The Staff of the Elderly Magi, was created by Corvus. It has gone by many names since the voop. For the last few centuries it has been known as The Grand Staff of the Black Dragon Magi, a device that once nearly destroyed the world.
This beautiful golden staff has caused many a man or woman to become lost for words…
Why call a staff a sword? No accident, I assure you. A sword strikes people down, injuring thier life. Danrick’s Sword injures the victims lives, to be sure, but a bruise from an old man’s stick is only the beginning of thier woes.
A Legendary magic item given to Oamahar of the Wise by Aurorobouros for achieving perfect harmony with the elements. Warning: This item may not really exist, nobody knows.
One of the most powerful relics of the persecuted People of the Coral is the Saviour, a beautiful multi-coloured coral trident that has saved them more then once from total destruction in the wars of the past,and was given to them by their goddess…
Needing to speed up magical item creation, Phillip Thornblood made this staff to glue, bind, weld, melt, or even smash things together.
Salvation to oneself is bought through the salvation of others…
Can a demon ever learn what it means to feel pity, grief, fear, despair, joy and the rest of those tangled emotions and feelings that plague humans? Can beings who obtain their deepest satisfaction from the suffering they inflict on others,ever embrace those very things they so passionately despise and hate about the mortal races? Mozrak,wisest of the half-demons and beloved of the Mother Godess, believed it not impossible. The Staff is both his curse and gift to his pureblood cousins.
These items, potent wards against spirits, were once commonplace. Following the end of the old Empire the methods of their manufacture was lost and none new have been made in the intervening centuries.
Oft overlooked, and moreso understaffed, the majordomo of Jesolo Manor sought out a sorcerous cousin to craft for him some sort of charm or spell to aid him in the maintainence of the sprawling manor. A six foot staff of twisted oak was his prize.
A Magical Hat that has only enough magic to stay on its wearers head, in spite of wind, falling, or even being turned upside down. The owner, never having to pick up his hat gains an extra swagger to his step, and a small boost to charisma.