"You shall find my body beneath the steep cliff, where the larch grove grows. Take my skull, and hang it from the old larch tree. And then you shall make of me an instrument: my skull for the box, the tree for the neck, my tail for the strings and bow. Whenever you play it, I shall be with you, for At-Beyi is inseparable."
- The Legend of At-Beyi
Many magic staffs shoot rays of disintegrating acoustics or summon laser elementals. The Staff of Seryl gets you pregnant.
Unless you are a dude, of course.
One drop for a cluster of flowers, three drops for a tree, no more, no less.
Vampiric panties? What a base a vulgar term, they are discretionary undergarments. Please, they are Braies of the Tides.
"Life, what is it but a dream?" - Lewis Carroll
Some bags have more "extra" than others.
A favored weapon for rogue/thief followers of the Sun God.
A simple metal bucket, capable of holding a bucket of water, or as it happens, a lifetime of effort.
If you need bait in a hurry and the ogres won't get out of the way, you need the Chum Bucket
A candle inside of a skull is a typical creepy feature in cultist's lairs or haunted places, but what if they served a more practical purpose?
It's just a shoddy old hand bag, pay it no mind.
Like the Tiny Hut only better.
"We found 'im alright" mumbled Rizz the bandit, nursing a wound below his right eye. "'e was soaked in blood, 'ead to foot. But no matter 'ow much we tried to 'urt 'im, 'e just laugh'd and kept gett'n up. I don' think 'e'll be leav'n town like ya want'd"
As the sun set, the holy monk of Jove muttered a word and the tip of his staff flared into flame like a torch, without being burned or scorched in any way by it's own holy fire. He carried on his way without fear of being sneaked up on or stepping off the path in the dark.
A key tool of the Necromancers of Light, the Soulbinder eases the difficulty of resurrection.
"See that one, with the burn scars and dark veins? Don't stick too close; he shoots fireblood before engagements. Keeps friends and foes alike at bay, it does."
The old soldier looked up with all three of his eyes. "I lost one of my eyes to a sword point, and they used a little too much Growjuice to heal it. Still, I'd rather have three eyes then only one."
A potion to cheat death... almost.
Mean ingredients bring mean effects...
The Staff of the Zythumancer can bring the most helpless alcoholic into the embrace of sobriety or turn a tetotaller into a useless drunk with a simple tap to the head.
A boon to theives, this can be used to replace items with duplicates, which means that the shoplifter or the sneak-thief can go about his or her work in safety with little chance of discovery, provided he or she takes care when stealing.
As far as everyone knows, the Maze has always been there; the strange pair of gates set in the side of a mountain a common feature in every painting of the area, no matter how ancient. One white, one red, nobody knows what they're made of but they resist any attempt to damage them; they’re always slightly cool to the touch no matter the weather, they have a very reflective surface, and if you look at them in a bright light, sometimes it looks as if they glow on their own.
The important thing is what’s on the other side of them, of course. The Maze itself is a strange place where the normal rules are suspended, and its own set takes their place. It’s a place filled with puzzles and riddles, monsters and traps; it’s always consistent with itself in any single run but is never the same two times around, and sometimes you could swear it has a sadistic streak, delighting in tricking the unwary adventurer.
It is a dangerous place, as so many people will rush to tell you; most people who go in never come out, and even those who do usually end up scarred for life. They also bring out with them enormous piles of riches, which is why people keep going in anyway.