Deep in Throck forest there is a small valley filled with boulders. It is an uneasy place, full of invisible eyes. In the damp behind one of these boulders is a wooden door, virtually impossible to find, which leads down into the Kingdom of the Gnomes.
What do you do if your employer begins to go mad? Particularly if you’ve managed to build up a long tradition of working for him.
A beautiful warrior woman, with a sword and soul of ice.
A little prank that has found its uses. Shaving razor.
The bronze half plate of the Flame Knight, this armor serves to protect the wearer with the blessing of the Lord of Fire.
The silver and gold longsword of a knight of flame.
A graceful servant of the God of Fire, Destruction, and Rebirth, this fanatic warrior is devoted to the ‘cleansing’ of the world with flame.
In the darkness in the south transept of the Cathedral of Isielles stands the resplendent Clock of Shadows. It tells more than just the time of day…
Even the most useless of items can become something more if a legendary mage carries it around for a couple of centuries.
The home of the reclusive Monk-Smiths of Moldan, unparalleled practitioners of the art of smithing.
A set of polished silver and gold tea cups and saucers, and accompanying silver serving plate, that will serve on its own.
It looks like an ordinary parchment map, until it speaks to you. It says, “I know where you need to go to find what you are looking for.” From there, the adventure begins.
The dwarfs of Thodar created a weapon of might and power - but how much is the wielder prepared to sacrifice to gain prowess in battle?
A brightly colored ink that hardens the skin.
A broken shard of mystical powers.
Once an adventurer, this now disembodied mage is seeking a reason to continue, or a way to die.
One set was forged with love, the other with hate. But they were both powerful weapons.
The ruins of the lands that bore the confrontation between the Mad God of Avarice and the Storm Queen, this place has been soaked by the divine essence of two of the most chaotic gods.
The shattered remnants of a divine weapon, a certain amount of power remains in these bits of celestial metal.
Long ago, longer still than even the golden age of Hamset, so long it is out of the memory of man, though not of the elves for they remember their history to the first. Many secrets areheld by the elves. As this, a glass vial containing the tears of Laitha, the fairest, kindest and most beautiful living being to grace the world of Hamset.
Wytchwolde-Under-Ash, once a great Thorpe, was razed to the ground by the ruthless, and truth told more than slightly deranged, Porcelain Princess and her henchmen, the Purifiers. When the flames had at last subsided, and a kaleidoscope of swirling, dull-gray ash choked the sky, nine hundred acres of old growth iron spruce, black larch and weeping birch, was burned to utter cinders, along with the entire coven of witches comprising the Sisterhood of the Silver Teat.
Now, centuries later, the forests are somewhat re-grown, and the town of Foolswater stands where Wytchwolde-Under-Ash once did. It is said that even to this day, one can still find ashes in the otherwise potable well-water of this village. Once a year during the Winter Solstice, the “Ash-Wind” comes to Foolswater, a suffocating black cloud that passes quickly but leaves dead birds and animals in its wake, darkening the trees, and staining the sky with black snow. The inhabitants of the village know better than to be caught outside during the day-long Ash-Wind. Everyone is locked snugly inside, singing old hymns that curse and re-curse the burned witches who once called this place home.