The warrior's footfalls echoed on the cobbles. His breath steamed in the cold, frosty air. He heard the frantic movement of assailants in the shadowed alley shuffling to surround him.
The warrior laughed. It was a bitter, dry laugh. "It won't do you any good. I feel no pain. Prepare to meet Balor."
“What’s the difference between good and evil?”
Made for a brave adventurer by a spurned lover, every chain was lovingly crafted with iron and locks of her hair. The finished armor was polished with tears and blood till her final days...
BEWARE all who dare wear this chainmail...
A common tool of necromancers, nether mages, and others who are privvy to the arts of the dead and undead
Just as the Dimensional Engine supplanted the fission reactor, the DTR will eventually replace the D-Engine. Once they iron out the little bugs.
The CogNet might be policed by sentient programs and controlled by artificially intelligent super computers, but it is built on top of millions of organic memory cores that function as its host.
One man's ultimate demise could prove another's treasure...Or curse.
Gotta have dat juice!
Golgotha, Shadowrunner and notorious Juicer
A rare male only Imbrian armor
Better known as the Ghost Suit
A tiny marble cherry with an amber heart inlaid. One of the Lolliful Avenger's most devastatingly effective weapons.
Once upon a time this sword may have been a sight to behold, but no more. Rust and decay now tarnish the metal of this forgotten relic, and those who stumble upon it are more likely to toss it than use it.
Based off of the Rubik's Cube, the Emote Cube is a banned piece of arcanotechnology
Ah, you are awake now I see. Wondrous news. I realized that you have no idea what is transpiring so I will be blunt so you may understand it. It is rumored that you are one of the best jewelers and metalsmiths in the region and for that you are lucky enough to have been chosen to create an item that will change the world. And afterwards, you shall be set free. My word on it.
I watched in horror as the final pieces were infused together with dark magics granted to the mighty Kormak by Shivenhusk Himself. The head from Lord King Vyrkril was placed on a base of blacked bone and thrust into the cold burning fire. I swear I hear it scream in agony. Decnus Kormak smiled at his late king and when he pulled the chalice from the blue flame bare handed, he clutched it covetously. That alone made me afraid.
Tis but a scratch, send the guards and make sure they capture that joke of an assassin
“You will all die for what you have done to me!” Van Torxes hissed. As his face reddened with anger, he stormed out of the room towards his chambers.
"The gods must have truly wanted the king to drown, to make him meet such an end in a mud puddle, most unfortunate indeed. Then again we all knew he was unsteady on his feet, a pity that cane his son gave him for his 85th birthday didn't serve him better..."
A magically cursed walking stick, often gifted to those who have been on the throne a little too long. Suitable for use in any magical fantasy setting and easily adapted to higher tech magical settings.
Few things shine as bright as the jewels of Hell
The Shay-Keded, or “Sand-Slaughter” is a magical kopesh hailing from the forgotten deserts of Nehekhara. The blade steals the life-force of its victims into potent magical energy for its wielder. However, it holds a great curse that backlashes the wielder if the magical energy absorbed by the blade is not spent…
Idea from the Aeneid. Could make an intriguing encounter when searching for firewood..."Quite near there happened to be a mound of earth, at the highest part of which were growing thickets of cornel and a dense cluster of spiky myrtle-stems. I went up there and tried to wrench the green growth from the ground to provide a leafy covering for our altar. There I was confronted by a horrible and astounding miracle. For from the first bush which I tried to break off...blood oozed in dark drops, fouling the earth with its spots...A piteous moan came from the base of the mound and I heard a human voice answering me: 'Why, Aeneas, must you rend a poor sufferer? I am buried here...for I am Polydorus. Here death overpowered me in a crop of piercing iron-pointed spears. And so a crop resembling javelins has grown over me...'"