A curious ring, it seems to effect the sanity of a person when worn.
The teeth of a hungry wolf.
The blood of a murderer.
The cloth of a false saint’s burial shroud.
All of these things and more are used in the creation of a Caedea.
This beautiful golden staff has caused many a man or woman to become lost for words…
Concealed in a fold of space, there, watching, lies, a haven - refuge for a select few, as well as the most precious thing in the world.
Dalme is one of the various travelling Tinkers plying their trade in the villages along the back roads. One can hear his cart from a arrow shot away, clanking and clinking, his wares: pans, pots, utensils, plow shares, cow bells, and other metal bits, banging against the side of his cart. The rest of his goods are kept inside his house cart (mugs, plates, fabric, ribbon, and other things) along with his anvil and fire bellows. He tells news, shares jokes, and does a bit of trading. He is everything a tinker is expected to be…. and unfortunately much more.
Once the shining hope of the region, the grand city is now, on the surface, rotting away in the floodwaters. But beneath the surface, not all is what it seems.
Suffused with a love for probing every inch of the darkest and most unexplored depths of the ocean,this adventurous octopus like being possesses a dashing courage most odd for one of his race.
Not very surprising perhaps,when you consider the fact that this young explorer is insane.
She wanted a Genii as her magical slave, but when the spell went wrong, she ended up becoming one herself…
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.
The Hierophant of Greenmarch is a lycanthrope. Rather than seeking a cure, or hiding his condition, he considers it a blessing from the Goddess of the moon, and requires that all of the Druids and loyal Rangers of Greenmarch to share in his gift.