An ancient sword, corroded yet sharp, which heightens all the worst qualities of its bearer (eg bloodlust, greed, no care for others). [Edited for more detail.]
A small and horrible bundle of needles and dyes with a truly sickening history and unpleasant side effects.
Specially treated troll flesh dried in strips like jerky which heals in small doses.
Thousands of orcs chant in unison as their champion and chieftan raises the black iron morningstar, they chant for the hammer of the underworld, the unbeatable weapon of orcdom.
A small trinket, unseen for centuries. It could be found anywhere: Perhaps lying with another cache of coins in an abandoned monestary. Perhaps behind a glass casing of a coin collectors display. But those who know what this coin represents may be inclined to flip it during times of oppression. Doing so may become their salvation, or the instrument of their demise. So toss the coin if there is nothing to lose, and see if you have The Devils Luck.
A thousand years ago,the Red and the White mages almost exterminated each other in a magical war so great, that the very mountians were turned into quartz.Centuries passed and the magic died away enougth for humans to visit the area and remain in human form. And a city of quartz was built upon the site, which is the most magical city in the whole world…
A man with three identities. He sells the services of thieves and assassins, and he’s not above doing some of the work himself.
The Pier Point Crown was more then just a piece of royal headgear.This crown wanted to rule in
it’s own right,and would stop at nothing to do so…
This cute little girl may not be quite what she appears.
Queen Yocasta was until recently, the very capable if autocratic ruler of Valermoore, but recently, she has changed. She is allways seen with a young woman, always wearing a heavy veil and gloves, who never speaks or moves. She claims that she is her daughter,Princess Chrysta, but a faint noxious smell comes from the veiled woman…
Some legends are history, some are mere stories, and some have a basis in fact. This may not be quite what it seems.
Dimble Stumpwater is this worlds last best hope for expedient library book returns
These are artifacts of an earlier age. The Wells are symbols of a great power, that of the Eternal Flame, now lost to Humanity.
Or is it?
It is only the size of a thumb, but when this spakling stone burns with an inner fire, the destiny of holder changes.
a very useful exotic weapon
The PCs traveling through the mountain end up in the the small village of Bitterfruit, this tiny village is the epitome of paradise, but even paradise has its secrets.
subterfuge abounds in this royal rumble over the kings road project. The road is way behind schedule and someone needs to find out why.
It looks very much like a normal short stabbing spear, wih a bulbous metalic haft and a slight greenish sheen on it’s razor-sharp blade. But those who have encountered it and lived to tell the tale, or used it themselves, know differently…
In some cultures,a man’s repect depends on his virility and sexual prowess in bed,as does his hope of getting a heir. But what if for some reason,he find himself unable to perform his duty in the bed chamber? Well,he should despair not,for the Soup of Fertility may save him yet!
Savage,blood thirsty,the amphibious shark men or Zaben cannot be controlled,so the conventional wisdom goes.
But is this really the case?
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.