Some cities have more spirit than others.
The young priest had been healing in the market place for free. Someone seeking bounty gold had told someone at the temple. "Hut. Hut. Hut" The Temple Knights in formation came marching down from the temple.
The young priest stood up. He reached into his pouch. With a smile he put the top into the Bey. With a spin, the 1000 prayers to the spirits came forth. The spirit responded. The wind whirled and buffetted the troops. They fell into each other and were having trouble getting due to the wind that only they felt.
The priest picked up his top and ran away. They would not catch him today.
Folk magic is more of a magical tradition than a school of scholarly research being as old as the hills, some say as old as time itself. It is as deeply ingrained to the psyche of the country folk as the changing of the seasons and has been passed down from father to son and mother to daughter for countless generations.
When the Gods forged Creation they imbued everything with a spirit of its own, a soul so to speak. The trees, the bushes, serpents and birds, everything was imbued with a soul. Even the very earth and the mountains got spirits of their own, as did the winds, the rain and the storms.
“That was the second lynching this month. And last week they haven beaten some old sod that could barely crawl home.”
“Well, he was a drinker and bad to his wife, sir. It is really hard work they do, and not for much pay. But sir, we are doing wonderfully, all is going as planned and better!”
“Yes, the cathedral could be built months before expected, if we can keep up this speed. You are all doing great work, I’ll be sure to inform the Patriarch. Just take care no accidents happen anymore.”
A magical beacon designed to attract minor spirits to the mundane plane
Has your kid been acting strangely? Returning home late at night, bearing bruises and clothes torn? Something else than puberty may be the reason.
There are places in this world, which hold a weak barrier to the Spirit realm and the real world. One such place is The Spirit Glade.
Manifold collections of wheels, and gears, springs and coils, all bound by the inexoriable tread of time.
A full bearskin, paws with claws, head and teeth and such, to be worn as a warm and comfortable cloak.
Oh, and the spirit of the bear can be summoned to fight along side you as well.
A bronze bowl with warrior carvings around the outside of it. When used correctly it will allow the wielder’s spirit to venture out of thier body and go where it wishes.
A wild species, vinus homophagus, more akin to sea-grape rather than the terrestrial variety, is not a monster despite its fanciful name. The grapes, a deep purple color when in bloom, and oozing dewdrops of perspiration, like the most prized and delectable of drinking wine grapes, do however deserve their moniker. Wine made from this fruit, is deadly to most humanoids, as is the raw berry if plucked and eaten from the vine. It is the unnatural chemical concoction found within the fruit’s tart skin, which gives the man-eating grape its name. The chemical stew found inside each berry, functions as a necrotic agent, the same as found in some species of venomous snakes.
The grapes literally eat their victims from the inside out, via cell death, melting and destroying the organs in quick succession.
The tribes of Pra-Oohk Crater, of the jungles of Ghlush are known to sell the fermented “wine” of this grape to merchants of distant lands. Sadly, the taste of the concoction is divine when first quaffed, and even worse, the man-eating grape wine will never detect as poisonous via mundane means, its horrid natures somehow masking all attempts. Luckily the man-eating grapes are extremely rare, and endemic to humid jungles.