The counter to the effects of the Barrenfield Oaks. It converts sunlight into the ingredients necessary for a healthy soil.
This bundle of beautiful sparkling delight conceals a far darker side…
This is an acorn of mass destruction. It’s stored in a small box with room for six but only containing the one.
Long sieges can be a trial for both sides. For the beseiged especially, finite ammunition supplies always pose a problem - except when the ammunition can reproduce…
All that was left on the battlefield that day was a worn rusty sword, with BELIGITOR etched in the Blade.
The divine weapons of the Storm Queen, these enormously potent weapons are both the Source and the Destiny of the Shards of the Storm, the physical manifestations of the destructive capacity of the wind and rain.
Bestowed by the pagan Godess Inar,upon the king of Silamarh in the his nation’s most dire time of need,it allowed to destroy nigh single-handed,the great horde of the infamous barbarian war-chief,Hordan.
The classic sword of the incorrigible munchkin,you think? Not quite.
An extremely shiny piece of bling, so big and amazing that it inspires anyone who sees it to ask questions about its origins, the bearer, and most anything else they can think of.
Why call a staff a sword? No accident, I assure you. A sword strikes people down, injuring thier life. Danrick’s Sword injures the victims lives, to be sure, but a bruise from an old man’s stick is only the beginning of thier woes.
A classical enchanted weapon…
Princess Matriax was the daughter of Lord Greybaer, known from the war as "The Butcher of ..." a handful of towns and a couple provinces. If that wasn’t enough, the princess had her own guard, troupe of guards, that was hers to see trained and use as she see fit.
She didn’t need a defender, not in the sense of some bodyguard. She was quick to take offense, because it amused her to have an excuse to strike people herself, to "quell the insurgents" herself.
She uses her purse to bash people. Her purse is her defender.
An emerald, the size of three fists, and burning with an inner light. A most worthy prize for any adventuring party.
A potent tool of battle for a confident warrior.
The ring of justice is a good-aligned, intelligent item with a host of powers. It is also the phylactery of a powerful archlich…
The PC’s have to help a disenfranchised young man reclaim his village.
An evil priest with a believable character. His descent into evil is subtle, not “I’m gonna go worship this god of death and destruction!”
The Doll House holds what you would expect it to hold, dolls. With one minor detail.
“So this is the sword of Crog, the legendary hero…right?” This weapon may prove that psychology can be better than magic.
Human in a previous existence,one thing about this former Captain’s life has been left unchanged by its brush with the Black Tide.
Looking for a wild time on an exciting vacation? Head down to Ceriloth, the party nation on the south side of the continent. Every sin of the flesh can be found there, but be aware, you better bring your weapons.
Molk Peruda is encountered by the PCs on the second day of their journey west from the salt-choked port of Quyn, as they prepare to explore the jungle.
He appears a gaunt, wolfish man, with matted, dark hair that sprouts from his head in dreadlocks, contrasting with his well-oiled, blue-black, conical beard. His eyes are hidden ebon shards beneath thick arching brows, his nose, crooked, long, and reminiscent of a snout. His mouth is a thin, dark line, his teeth unseen even when he parts his lips to speak.
His skin is the color of tallow, surprising perhaps for a renowned jungle guide, yet his natural helm of dreads and the jungle's canopy keeps the sun from bronzing his originally pale flesh. On his back are tattooed three women from the waist up, side-by-side, each resembling the other but of different ages. This is a tattoo of Molk's mother, sister, and daughter. His wife (don't bring her up to him!) was killed by marauding Qullan years ago, and appears as her own tattoo on his broad but sunken chest.
His feet shockingly are turned around 180 degrees at the ankle, facing towards his back! A curse from a pernicious shaman. Molk walks feet backwards (he's used to it) and walks backwards, forwards. This can be very disconcerting and outright creepy to the PCs as he guides them through the rainforest.
Slung from his back is an archer's quarrel of treated wood carved to resemble a stalking leopard, in his hand a re-curved composite bow of horn and sinew, with a pair of vivid, red eyes, each one painted on the opposite side of the hand-grip. In a leather sheath at his belt, hangs a falchion, its pommel adorned with a curved bird's head and beak.