A simple way to a fate most dreadful.
The Writer glimpsed it in his journeys through the various hells, but he paid no heed to it. His tale was about the afterlife and the punishments therein, not the arms and armor of the Darkness.
a slivery blade with a barbed hook at the end the blade shineing red as the light hits it
"And 3..2..1..Smile!" *flash* *thump* "Mwahaha."
A legendary Artifact of the first brutal Ice Age.
The Suit of Purity appears to be one designed for the heroic, but it masks it’s true villanous nature. Anyone who wears it for long is bound to be slowly twisted to the Dark Side.
There are a lot of bad people out there. That is why we must torture you: to keep you safe.
Many and varied are the ways of extracting a confession or ending a criminal’s life, and the one usually follows the other.
As the paladin stripped what he could find from the foe that he had just killed, he did not know that the band of jade that he stripped from the body would do a warrior of Good like him not good at all and would weaken him just when he most needed his strength to fight evil.
This is a wretched tome of oceanic blasphemy; a foul water-stained, bone-white binder of bitter dead-men’s secrets and a guide to Nautical Necromancy useful in the hands of the young sea-faring necromancer or the Great Lich Umeen herself.
A malaign substance that can bring a lingering, horrible end.
A wet brown sack… FULL OF MAGGOTS!
"Hell hath no fury like MY RIGHT FOOT!" Shardath yelled as he stomped upon the holy ground.
This particular necklace could be worth 1,000… If you get it to the market fast enough.
A curious dagger, with a blade stained by ancient gore; it has seen many dark deeds, yet goes unsuspected as more than some old piece of junk.
This weapon did not start out as magical. Nor was it ever enchanted. It was the touch of the Dark Man who made it a "fell item".
An otherwise simple spear, the dread blade of Hatred brings rot and decay to all it strikes, be it armour, body, or soul.
A vast tome of knowlege that literally gives you the creeps…
Curiosity killed the cat…
A rare branch of the arcane masters, encountered only among the deepest hill folk or ramshackle cabins, the Saucerer takes his power directly from the consumption of cheap liquor. Only the strongest, rankest, most nauseating of homebrewed alcohol will do, where it is instantly converted into mana available to the caster. Without a minimum level of inebriation, the Saucerer will be unable to cast any spells, as focus inhibits his spellcasting abilities.