More than just a 30, I crafted a whole campaigns worth of ideas for the rational, theory and history of all the magic weapons of a world that has a low knowledge base of crafting and a high mana level. Suitable for a rare item, low powered world.
Sub contains a fair amount of system neutral stats in the body of the sub, and a small amount of game specific stats for any version of D&D/Pathfinder in an idea scroll at the bottom
The Xan-Axe is said to be a wonderful weapon-those who wield this battle axe seemingly fell no fear. Until, that is, they put it down, if only for a short time.
A conventional war drum, or is it?
A very useful tool for a worker of magic.
Those fancy robes are not just for show.
Seven more magical rings, each with a very different enchantment on it.
Two rival wizards. You can guess what happens. Yes, one flays the other naturally, but is interrupted half-way through the skinning ritual...
You begin to feel funny. Your head becomes clouded as you approach the evil wizard. Wait, you shouldn't attack the wizard. He's done nothing wrong to you. Your party members are wrong. They lied to you. You should attack them!
...You come to your senses after a momentary black-out. You have blood on your sword. The bard is bleeding and the rest of your fellow party members have their weapons drawn and are poised to attack you. And you can hear the evil wizard behind you chuckling.
You don't need a pipe or a heavenly voice to draw a crowd with this in your hands.
A relatively common magical item from the city of Lionguard
This could have made Johnny Appleseed's job that much easier!
A sword made of demon blood to fight demons.
A wonderfully ornate wood and silk dragon suit of the kind used in the Chinese Dragon dance. Flawlessly crafted, it is a wonder to see.
Freetext Friday, A Tale of Mysantia
Freetext Friday. One of the many flawed magic weopon types of the Stolen World
“Something weird heah! Get yer weird things!” I raised an eyebrow. Street vendors rolled by the Woflo Inn about five hundred blighted times a day, screeching like strangled gulls. I got sick of the racket by the second day, but it was midsummer, and closing the shutters would’ve choked us with the heat. Blight take this human city anyway, I'd take the Altanian jungles if I had a choice. At least there are no street vendors there.
Chav was on her feet and grabbing for her belt pouch like a shot. “Where are YOU going?” I drawled.
“You GOTTA come see this, Eve! This guy is great!” And with that, she was right out the door and pelting down the stairs.
“Something weird heah! Get yer weird things riiiight heah!”
Med-pods, med-bays, and a dozen trade marked names, all for the technomagical healing bed.
An ancient Chinese string instrument (guqin being the actual term) adapted to a fantasy setting
A weapon used in the old days of Setsokan warlords, by the Son of Sets himself, these barbed spikes rend through flesh and bone as easily as paper.
The Staff of the Flame Eagle
The old clock tower stands tall, but the bulk of the uppermost storey is crumbling and unsafe, with gaping cracks in the walls. The metal struts and girders supporting the great bronze bells are still intact, though, and the bells survive. The grotesque gargoyles and arabesques which decorated the original design have either fallen into the street (once or twice a year more bricks fall from the tower, prompting calls for its demolition) or have been defaced, but the main doors to the clock tower are still intact and show signs of being kept in working order. This is the home of The Captains, clad in raggedy clothes, with sooty faces, and perpetually runny noses. But behind each set of eyes is the look of a survivor. They live to stick together and make it through each day. Older than their years in many ways, the friendship they share with each other and Wims ghost keeps the core of a childs innocence and hope alive in each. But they are still very suspicious of outsiders. They are a group of street children who live in the clock tower. Some are orphans, some runaways, and some nomads who occasionally return to their homes. But they’re all poor, dirty and perpetually hungry, as well as being wily, unscrupulous and mischievous in a fairly brutal way. Enough of them have suffered at the hands of adults for all of them to be wary of any grown-ups, particularly ones who ask too many questions, although with hard work and a lot of food it might be possible to win the confidence or even the trust of a few of them.