A special method of fortune telling (100 word submission for the Ye Olde Archaic Word Challenge)
Babies-In-The-Eyes: The miniature reflection of himself which a person sees in the pupil of another's eye on looking closely into it.
"Yeeah!" the old man shouted as he made a dramatic flurry with his chalk - the mounted knight now bearing a stylized lance as it bore down on the many-headed dragon before it.
They had thought him a crank, an eccentric, not practicing a real form of magic. How wrong they were.
This ancient text is the legacy of one of the greatest mages of all time, but using it can be quite a challenge!
The ancient sages knew: To see beyond the veils of Death, you must become as one dead.
Et deprecabantur eum spiritus dicentes mitte nos in porcos ut in eos introeamus (Mark 5:12)
Inspired by a secret muse, a humble man sketches heroes and battles for the folk of the Market Quarter.
Driven by a lifetime of anger, Modest Slatterbite and his “Staff of Truth” have come to condemn the “wicked”.
Ssao E’hzeir, once a soldier, then a mandarin-magistrate, and then a clan-father, was rewarded for years of faithful service with the post of alytarch.
Ye Olde English
Oblat - A soldier who, grown impotent or maimed in service, hath maintenance or the benefit of a monk’s place assigned him in an abbey
"You would be wise not to cross me. I have powers that you cannot even begin to comprehend. Do not anger me, lest I turn you into a goose, fat and ugly. Then if you are lucky and I am in a forgiving mood, I won’t eat you for supper."
Based on Muro’s Archaic Words Challenge, the word myomancer.
1. Private; confidential; familiar.
2. A private conversation between two people.
3. A short sopha intended to accommodate two persons.
Most cities have long and storied histories, tales of nobles and intrigue, places in cultural, social, or military history. Gaberlunz in one of those places that by various circumstances has avoided any pretense of greatness.
A peculiar guild of specialists. "Flick your ticks, slice your lice, squeeze your fleas."
The PCs are setting up camp at the end of their first day of walking through the Esh-Inel Mountains, when they hear in the distance a low rumbling, like thunder. It grows progressively louder until it echoes off the mountainous bowls around them, then dies away again. At its worst the ground starts trembling. It happens every day at this time, and it is the noise of the Great Carts on the dwarfish underways returning home after a day mining, laden with many tons of ore.