A scimitar for the shadow, for the theif, for the assassin but most of all for the Drow.
A precious stone that calls out to those who can hear, a lighthouse for those lost in the darkness of the void.
A fluffy, pink stuffed bear which always seems to end up in unlikely places, and which people tend to get quite attatched to…
A wandering, former knight, who saves lives and steals for good causes.
An oval a full mile and a quarter in circumfrence, infield thick with dark grass, surrounded by white fences and stands enough to seat two thousand spectators. The smell of hay, horse sweat, and excitement is strong in the air…
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…
A possible answer to what happens to spells when a mage dies. If the spell is strong enough, say and enchantment or other permenant effect, part of the mages spirit may become lodged in the magic. It may be a way for items to gain some kind of intelligence, but a mage who has knowledge of this fact would be very hesitant about enchanting anyone or thing. He might have other plans for his afterlife than counting the change in your bag of holding.
Preists, I think, would have this sort of thing covered.