Some might call it a clawed glove. That would be Anthrocentric. It, and items like it, are magic weapons for being that use magic and do not use weapons, but use their claws. The Clawed Races uses these "claws" to enhance their natural combative ability.
Over three hundred years after the destruction of Linnarson, the ruins of Linnarson remain deserted; the warped magical environs inhabited only by the twisted and bizarre creatures that have been created. Amongst it all, however, the Senior Masters remain, continuing their eternal pursuit of knowledge.
Roland might seem at first to be a typical ranger. But he’d sooner kill you than look at you.
She might not seem to be much of a threat. Not at first. Just pray you never meet her when she’s hungry.
A sword made by ancestors, of ancestors, for desendants. The spirits of the warriors gone before help serve this blade’s master in battle.
The priest of a deity that never seemed to need one.
Mask Behind the Sky carved away all of his stillness to create his Bachta-Toad-Amulet…
A set of gloves crafted by none other than our friendly resident soul-mage, Tarquin. Designed specifically to give a physical attack that is effective even with his weak body.
At first glance, Gray appears to be a normal human. A little exotic looking, but that’s it. But appearances are so often decieving…
Wary and suspicous of human and Orc alike, the halfbreed Gorlock trusts no one, not even his fellow half orcs whom he despises.Though he like his brethen is fated to be shunned by both humans and Orcs, he is troubled by their brutal code which demands that that which is not given freely must be taken by brute force.It is this sense of deceancy which marks him as a truly unique being among his kind…
Kagero is amoung rare kind of Ninjas serving that she is a woman. She spent her years as her Grandfather’s pupil until he was killed by her major enemy, the Kawagami. She fought with Tsimbaro a trusted friend until he disappeered. She now is a Ninja Wanderer following where her feet take her.
An ingenious alchemist. An insane idea. A disastrous result.
(—Joint Character by Shadoweagle and CaptainPenguin—)
Invented by a pragmatic clothier and a wizard-for-hire, the Tourniquet Tunic is made for use on the battlefield.
Sometimes, just sometimes, the best response isn’t to go for your sword first and ask questions afterwards.
...In the hallowed halls of the University of Linnarson a glimpse may sometimes be caught of the Senior Masters, learned sages and masters of knowledge. They seldom leave their dusty studies full of learned tomes, other than to dine - each evening they will be found shuffling down the dimly lit corridors to the dark and shuttered Great Hall. After feasting at high table by candlelight they will be gone, returning once more to their studies. None but they know of their pact with death, how they have willingly embraced an eternal undeath in which to pursue knowledge, yet this is the reason for the darkened corridors and the shuttered hall, for those who are undead cannot abide the light of the sun…
A curiously designed ring - but not uncommon. Similar in design to most traditional ‘magi-rings’, which often hold enchantments on them. But unlike those rings, this one may take quite a hold on you…
Felice is an Elven girl with a lot of features to her. She’s kind to most, unless she meets there need to shed of blood. She’s both physically and mentally strong and lends a hand towards others. She has a secret to her that no other has.
The mighty dragon - arrogant, though rightly so, for what blade can pierce such beautiful armour? What warrior can match its lithe, graceful movements and raw power? But what if such a regal, magestic beast were cut down to size? What if it became human, itself?
To the primitive tribes on the plains of North, life changes rapidly from season to season. In summer, food is abundant. In the winter, death from starving is never far. A natural phenomenon helped one such tribe.
Elenus is the royal sword of the Kingdom of Marcosia, passed down through the royal family from the misty days of yore.