“The last thing we ever saw was its inky tail as it swept under the door. I fear the scions of Durnthar have taken yet another piece of us.” - Gould Maran, Keeper of the Throne Seal
Many magical items adventurers seek out help them carry more loot, keep themselves fed and healthy, or just simply hack the bad guys to itty bitty bits. This one lets their loot carry itself.
Think of any bizzare life-form, WHATEVER life-form that lives a not-so-standard way. Not the way common sense would expect it. Make it in some way logical or not, just forget the boring everyday logic.
Sing to me and I shall write, on lilies, poetry of the night.
A beast made of writing; a strange, sad, and beautiful being that haunts the libraries and universities of the Sacred World
Crawling among the garbage and offal, the detritus of what men call civilization, the myrie bugs claim their own small domains. They eat, and breed, and wait…
Seemingly lit from within, autumn foliage blazes with color in the late-afternoon sun. Yet, is is spring.
Trodways Known by Ericus Huntcrafter pub 1185 p. 245
Despair! Despair! The Dread Crow’s Glare!
God forbid that I should go to any Heaven where there are no horses.
- R. B. Cunninghame-Graham
It is unwise to speak the name of the Great Demon of the Ocean if you are close enough to the sea to smell the salt in the air. It is inviting disaster to speak it’s name when you are on the ocean itself.
To all space explorers, rogue traders and Federation colonisation and expeditionary force officers!
Thirty new alien species have been discovered. You are well-advised to inform yourselves, as to engage these entities correctly, without risk of harm to yourself or to the interests of Terra.
Ten of the described species are human in origin, yet modified to such a degree that they no longer need to be considered human.
Another ten are civilisation-building aliens competing with Terra for available space.
The final ten entries are remarkable life forms that display sapience, without using it to create civilisations. Caution is advised.
Undead are, simply put, among the most horrific things one can think of. Can you imagine anything more frightening than a being which is dead and yet still walks? Can you imagine the horror of being faced by the hollow shell of being, a hollow shell which must feed?
Scratches are a small price to pay for the comfort and protection of the perfect campsite. At least they were a small price until members of the party aren’t waking up.
These Camel like animals roam the desert in small herds. The desert folk have uses for these creatures.
Not many plants kill animals. This oaklike tree is predatory in the spreading of its seeds.
Masters have come and gone, but Honest Wrekk has always been around.
A tiny leaf, that can make the smallest animal truly dangerous.
A magical herb that keeps things cool…for a long time.
This herb is given to the father of a baby upon conception. Nine months later, the father will have an experience that will instill life long respect in the mother of his child.
It is a green rose created by a god long ago to give to his mortal lover.
Cold Comfort is a long-sword of star-steel, its blade giving off a wan, blueish light. Its grip is wrapped tightly in snow-serpent hide, and its pommel bears a single opalescent gemstone.
This blade is enchanted in such a way, that whoever wields it, begins to fall completely and irrevocably "in love" with the weapon. This love does not manifest itself as the expected reverence and bond formed between any warrior and his weapon, but as a deeper, truer love, one has for a soul-mate of the same species! The longer the wielder carries Cold Comfort the stronger and more disturbing this love becomes, and only the most powerful of magicks can potentially break the sword's insidious spell. The blade's owner will even speak to and coo to the weapon, convinced that the sword understands and returns this epic love.
If the blade's wielder somehow loses the weapon or has it taken away, they will become inconsolable, and will predictably go to "ends of the earth and back" to retrieve it at any cost. Such is the weapon's curse that even separation from it does not damper the feelings the owner has for the sword. Legends tell of several distraught and mind-addled knights who even years after losing the blade, still wander the country-side searching for their lost love. And woe be to the "new lover" if and when they find him or her.