It looked like a massive landslide, but, just before it slammed into us it turned into a bunch of laughing dwarven children!
The mark of Kronath’s ultimate favor, the Cloak of Dusk is held by her Hunter, her chosen avatar to hunt the living dead, and return them to her embrace.
"What do you mean I changed clothes?"
"Sir- did you steal that cloak"
"Of course not! Haven’t you seen fabric change color before?"
The bearer of this cloak believes it makes him invisible to the rest of the world, but the pure irony is that the cloak only makes him more noticable.
King Coloman had a problem.King Charles (known as the Fat King behind his back) was coming to take over his kingdom.It was not that Coloman had started any trouble, it was just that the Fat King was as greedy for new lands to add to his over growing empire as he was at the dinner table.Whilst the Fat King was not a good general himself,he had several talented subordinates who were, as well as an army three times the size of Coloman’s.
King Coloman called his Royal Council together to decide what to do.Simply using assassins would not work.There were six decent generals, and at most an assassin might be able to kill two,and that would mean he or she would die in the attempt. Reingold was put to work to create a magical weapon that could kill all six generals,without being so dangerous that it endangered all those who were making it.
He considered golems (too many guards) and various other ideas, and came up with a cloak that had hidden powers.A supposed traitor was the man who gave the Fat King the cloak. The cloak made the Fat King feel wonderful and healed a small wound and some boils that he had, but within an hour, all six generals dropped dead, their strength sucked into the Fat King. Without his generals, the Fat King lost the Battle of Silverock Pass and was killed in the rout that followed. The slightly damaged cloak was recovered and locked for safety in the King’s Treasury, only to be stolen a decade later…
“First, I nibbled on his earlobe. Then, I bit into it, letting the red, red blood roll down his neck. Then, when he screamed and started tearing at me, I ripped the flesh from his hand. Ah, it tasted so good! Yes, yes! Then, I ripped through his jugular, and bit through his spine! Yessss…..”
village of the damned. A village of people that have been 'raised', from death by priests, too many times. At first glance the folk appear as any other, but upon closer examination, they are pale, drawn, and tired...