A rather non-descript burlap sack with some interesting qualities.
Wheatsword has the reputation of being the dullest city in the world. It is surrounded by miles of flat farmland. The buildings are big, square, and boring. The streets are well paved. It looks like someone in the Military designed the city. And they did. It is the largest military establishment in the world.
Most established villages have their neighborhood hermit and Enders is no exception. If only the folks of Enders knew who they harbored, it may have been a very different story for old Noam.
Welcome,o distinguished traders to the Great Market of Ushart! Here you will want for nothing when it comes to the exotic and wonderous!
Just mind that you have a strong stomach…
Remember student, there are a million ways to kill a man, but only two ways to keep him dead, and those are the total annihilation of either the body or the soul. And I’m not altogether sure about the first.
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.
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.