Forget the white mare with swan wings, Spellshaper is a completely different kind of pegasus. He is a hell raising, head tossing, hot blooded beast with one driving passion…to race.
The most important horse race of the year is fast approaching, thousands are expected to attend. Too bad that the horse favored to win has gone missing…
Small bits of precious metal, and flawless jewels woven into the mane of a noble steed
Dark Lands is a dark magical prison/labrynth created by a long dead Dark Mage. His secrets were kept alive by his followers and they sold enchanted artifacts to those with enough riches to purchase them. These artifacts contain the power to spellcast the target into the deadly prison where it’s victims worst nightmares are manifested into reality. Read more in the full version!
A prized possession lost ... easy to hurt, difficult to find, and with a tendency to lose itself again, only a white feather left behind…
Leather gloves that grant one the ability to manipulate metal.
“Bah!” The bowman cried, for his bow had fallen apart in his very hands, after firing but one arrow! “Wait until I get to that weaponsmith. These arrows are obviously cursed!” The bowman discarded the quiver of 200 arrows by the road, where scavengers found it, and each separate arrow went their own ways with different owners, as time passed. Some found them cursed. Others, found that they may not be as cursed as one thinks.
It is a popular view amongst magic-users, that most members of the Cult of Malidon are just bitter people, blaming magic for their private losses and defeats, often seeking to silence some other qualms with burning witches. For one low cultist at least, this view is completely wrong…
A tool to keep body and spirit fit!
Small wooden discs about 2 1/4 inches in diameter and between 5 and 10mm thick (see below). They are rumoured to be made from the roots of the great tree Unity that supports the centre of the world.
Firey food for your favorite feathered friend.
Even some of the most mundane-seeming items may have surprising and useful - or dangerous - qualities about them. This particular item is one of those.
A young lady of common birth, ascended to the heights of society, and then cast down into the despair of unlife, seeking a dead love.
This mace, is the symbol of the kadumish dwarve’s independence. In the days of old, the dwarves were defeated and invaded by the dragon men, who enslaved the dwarves. Dranothoin, stood up to them wit his mighty mace and smote the granite statue of the dragon men god. This inspired the dwarves to revolt.
Within the fragile bounds of this cage of crystalline metal, your will and talent may work wonders…
4 bladed claw weapon, with the fourth blade in a rather unusual place.
It’s a flying city which hosts a school of ancient technology…
A prison ... a sanctuary ... a gateway ... a murderous tool. Grasp the power of a circle of midnight.
The tough, hardy adventurers equip up and go out to kill a pack of goblins terrorising the city. Of course, they succeed without trouble and make their way back but their first encounter with a guard patrol on the way back, tells them something is not right…
A sword that learns and teaches, forever singing of past and present.
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.