Caladin, a country where people hate magic, where the sword is the most reliable weapon and where war and death not a uncommon word
In case you get a sinking feeling, you can use this.
Sir Whitewing, a typical knight, loyal to his lord to his death and couragous as all get out. Currently leading an army of 10,000 soldiers east to battle the swamp ogres that threaten the borders. Charismatic and rash, he will charge recklessly into battle for his friends, without heed for his life. Smart and out-going he isn’t what most noble’s sons would be.
Saint Duncan is dead, and lies in his tomb, but every year thousands will visit it to lay their hands on the cold stone, and whisper a prayer to the patron saint of exorcism.
The Haven Fortress, the name suggests protection and vacation, but it is far more then that…
izkandar is an Ifrit, a fire elemtal of mideastern lore. he would be at home in a desert or asian steppe setting.
The Sentinel has always wondered who he was, his past covered in lies and deception, he wishes to seek the truth. But sometimes the truth is hard to take….
The chimera is a trifold beast, and the Chimeric ring likewise is a trifold item, both magical, and cursed.
Eyes darkened with kohl, and a long trailing cotehardie, Prince Graeme is a potent sorcerer and eccentric young lord with his eyes set to one goal, the throne of the land.
A legendary ranger from the North, all fear or admire, hate or love, but both have respect for him. He has no home nor hideout, a traveler always. His age is undetermined or his name, but he is called Sentinel, silent and deadly always. He is cunning and pragmatic, in quests he is an excellant tracker and has deadly accurcy with his bow. A master of the sword.
This stone is given to people of elven blood by a sibling usually before an important journey
Throughly despising the intrigue and scandals of the royal court,Prince Michael has never mourned the loss of his crown and inheritance to a treacherous advisor of his father’s. No,inflicting vengeance on the usurper and reclaiming his throne is too petty for him. He has a more important quest to fulfill..
When the Reverend Fury had his old sword reforged, it was done for one purpose: to assist him in his quest to wipe the undead from the earth.
The Book of Fury is a tool that many aspiring vampire hunters would kill to get their hands on. Of course, since the only way to get it would be to pry it from the dead hand of the Reverend Fury…
“The abominations that walk this earth when they should lie quiet in their graves must be destroyed, and I am he who shall do this! So it sayeth in the Book of Fury!”
A simple, almost clear potion with a misty swirl within it. Pungeant smelling and extremely poisonous to drink. Its purpose isn’t to drink, however, but to call upon aid.
These are not ordinary gems, these are Thrar Stones. They are rocks that have been caught in the trunks of growing trees. Over thousands of years they are forged from stone to gem.
...and the crow spoke of an age of eternal night and of the devouring of the sun. The sea will boil the blood of the maker, the sky will flood with a dark pestilence raping the land of all its bounty, and the mounds will break loose what death had acquited… So is the propecy of the end.
“I admit I cannot withstand it’s corruption, I am no goodly man but i do not wish for the end. Too much anger rests in Kadagan as well, who will keep it safe?” Nerrad the Transmuter
Pulsating dry white, red, orange and amber hues—- the air shimmered as the fire spirits leapt forth to and fro in the pyre. Tendrils of black carnal essence twined and twixed into the night sky barring the waxing moon from sight. The pyre burned bright as the brave and the cowardly both made their passage in preparation for the next battle and deep within the hellish inferno a golden hue developed separate from skeletal coals that breathed life with every breath of the conflagration.
The searing radiation of the holocaust gave way to the black heat as dawn emerged victorious of the night. The souls of the warriors had departed, but in corporal ashes remained a warm and coppery glow.
When a very old ring is anonymously sent to the authorities accompanied by a cryptic note, they are confused. But much more is at stake…
These magical boots empower the wearer with several abilities at once. Wondrous leaping, water-walking, and even flying! Yet the boots possess an insidious curse upon them as well. A deep and almost unfathomable (by others) feeling of listlessness, boredom, and even apathy affects the boots' wearer at all times whenever they are donned. Magic will not dispel the effects.
And so while the wearer of the boots can perform great feats of action during combat or at other opportune times and key moments, they'll never really want to do so, complaining "Meh, what's the point of it all anyway?" or "I would fly up and save us all guys, but sigh, maybe uhm, soonish, mkay? Bit bored by this whole burning tower at the moment."
Naturally the boots wearer's fellow PCs will grow quickly frustrated with this arrangement. There have been numerous occasions when one angry PC literally tears off the boots from his companion's feet in anger, and dons them in turn, only to immediately suffer from the same effects.
The solution lies in constantly "motivating" the boots' wearer with successful rolls, involving threats, flattery, fiery speeches, or even bribery.