“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…
Maddoc sat amid a pile of unrecognizable corpses. Men, Dwarves, Orcs, you couldn't tell. He periodically took a stab at one with his new knife and screamed, "STOP LAUGHING AT ME!"
He struck out hard with the blade, cutting his foe down to the bone in the arm that held the weapon , only to feel agony in his own sword arm as if it too had been cut right down to the bone. As he dropped his blade due to the shock and two more opponents closed in to cut him down, he realised to his horror that his blade was a Feeling Sword and that he was unlikely to survive this fight.
I am the mask that grins and lies
I'll hide your face and shield your eyes....
Even the most despicable and evil Tyrant will be convinced they pale in comparison to this monstrosity.
The curse of poverty is very real, and sometimes you are forced to learn the error of your ways before you can break its shackles.
John “Whiney” Winston, he was good at his job, maybe a little too good. When Jimmy the Snake found out his books were being cooked, Jimmy took it upon himself to end Whiney's employment. Too bad Jimmy's problems are over yet.
Upon the third storm-cracked night, under the light of a bloated blood red moon, the Razor of ManBeasts was crafted. A show of revenge, or the creation of a druid gone mad, no one knows for sure. But the ManBeasts walk the nighted forests now, ever since then, not a coincidence I say.
"No, don't touch...that. Too late."
Fanaticism can be just as dangerous as fire. Spreading like fire, it could spark rebellion and could lead towards violence. As a way to curb devotion to the abstract, king Hareth of Garilroot asked his Mages to come up with a solution for those too invested in an ideal.
No chain is heavier than the one forged by the passage of years.
The Deathstick is a potent weapon, but it may well do more damage to it's user then the target, as it has not been perfected by it's creators yet.
Morcar’s ring is a marvel to behold, capable of healing wounds…but be sure that you do not tax it’s powers too far and die wearing it, or you will become a true horror to behold.
Last night, your buddy was thinking about calling one of those crazy psychic hotlines, he was really depressed, his girlfriend dumped him, and he wanted some good news. You know they’re all a scam, they give you some advice that could apply to everyone and a large bill to boot. You told him to go for it.
But now he’s missing. All you have is his cell phone, and something is wrong with it. You found it in your toilet today. Yeah, your toilet. It’s got all his old numbers and a few you don’t recognize. You tried to call some, but all you got was a what sounded like a bunch of voices muttering at once. What the hell is going on here?
As soon as he had set his eyes upon The Sword of all Swords he knew it must be the perfect blade for him. And he would stop at nothing to possess it!
Fandune screamed as the inmate’s hands locked around his neck. With quick thinking and a little luck he managed to mutter the right words and waggle his fingers perfectly for the curse. The inmates fingers bent back upon themselves and were rendered useless.
Seeing her boyfriend, Amber opened her mouth to tell him her true name, but the Masking Bracelet that she was wearing took control, and forced her to keep her mouth shut and walk away.
The PCs have travelled long and far. As nightfall approaches a mighty storm is unleashed. Luckily there is a lush wood nearby the path.
A good shelter for the rage of the unnamed weather gods it seams at first. As the PCs enter under the roof of this dense wood, they are welcomed by only a few drops wich is allowed trough the thick forest crown. A fire is offcourse required to warm the weary bones of the travellers. As one of the party is set to the task of collecting firewood the others settle down at a suitable location. But alas, they did not know the perils of this forest. But it seems clear to the rest of the party that something ill is at work as the woodcutters scream echo from afar.