A rare sight, but one dreaded by the foes of dwarvendom.
The largest warship of the Terran Hegemony capable of landing on Earth and launching again into orbit.
The nurse put a hand on his shoulder, speaking softly, “Calm down, sir, you’re inside a hospital. You’re safe.”
The man’s eyes darted back and forth, his whole body shaking in terror, “Nooo,” He whispered, “I’ll never be safe, I saw him, I saw him jerking and writhing around, then he looked straight at me and fell over.”
Behold, for I am the form of Destruction
Inscription on the Virednith
"Their trumpets are also of a peculiar and barbaric kind which produce a harsh, reverberating sound suitable to the confusion of battle."
from the memoirs of Diodorus Siculus,
Commander of the Legion XIX (retired)
Capable of delivering up to 20 iron spikes per minute at nearly the velocity of an arrow, the Iron Spike Launcher-9000 is the front line weapon of his most elite clock-work soldiers.
The Six-Stringed Laser Axe of Thorin Stardust, the Most Metal Space Dwarf in History.
the sounds of war
Built for an assassin, the Devouring hand can pass many an attempt to detect it, yet it demands a terrible price of its wearer…
Sound the call of alarm and light the fires in the trenches, the time for war is upon you!
In some ways, the Dwarves of Urek were ahead of their time. Masters of metallurgy and alchemy, they had numerous technologies the human kingdoms were unaware of.
When man thinks of the wild, he thinks of the lush greenery of the forest, of the majestic plains and the deep mountains. He thinks of the elegant wild deer, of the mighty bear and the stealthy wolf. But there is another side to nature. This is the Legacy of one who learned.
A weapon from before the time of men, enchanted in times of legend by the greatest of the land’s druids.
When you face a foe in desperate life-or-death combat, there’s nothing like getting good and liquored up first…
Few cities could stand long before the invincible "Firedrake", the Hegemon’s mightiest vessel of war.
Nerundill caught hints, snippets of conversation. The rumors surrounded a book, a book of magnificent power. A book that contained the knowledge of the ancients. With every new tantalizing bit of information he heard, his resolve to possess this book increased.
Click, Zap, Fazaz, and Boom; carrying us all to our tomb. -The BombLovers
Not a bad weapon, but don’t miss. It takes about six minutes to reload…
The ornate flintlock pistol of a highwaymen, consecrated to Nahrem, God of the Crossroads
This item is not listed in many tombs of magic, nor is it detailed in any text books among the arcane. It is however sung about in many a tavern and bar across the coastal cities. The tale is sung more about the man who created it. His tale has been embellished time and again until he seemed more a god than the coward that he was.
The accepted mode of getting otherwise unobtainable information is to go visit the cranky old hermit living in the mountains. It's just the sensible thing to do. So, naturally, everyone takes their monthly excursion to the hermit's hovel to consult him on everything, from lock-jaw to lovesickness, necromancers to nasal viruses.
Now, if everyone's always visiting the poor old hermit, there's going to be an enormous queue... "Wellcome to the Hermitt's Hovele, Please Take Ye a Number and Have Ye a Seate" reads the sign outside the packed dwelling.
Imagine the poor hermit, having retreated into the mountains to escape this precise situation...