Ostensibly but a rock, a chunk of metal, it has one extraordinary use: randomly, the Igneus Saxum issue flames.
At one time it was thought that the substance known as Anagra Estratius, or Devouring Fire, was an alchemical substance, tainted by the infernal components that went into its making.
The land of Airithrin is a horrible place, a land of reeking fumes and geysers of flame, lakes of lava and the strange life forms that emerge when elementals breed with mundane creatures
A hilt built like a ceremonial goblet, and not the nice kind, a hideous blade of ash and flame erupt from the lip. To wield this blade is to forsake the Heavens and thrust the power of Hell into your foes.
In the dark one morning, the Bloated Black Beast slowly rose to the water's surface. Whence it crested, great gouts of flame erupted from its Misshapen Form and were hurled hundreds of feet in all directions. It dove again, and appeared as nothing more than an Inky Shadow of Malice. With no purpose, It swam on; occasionally cresting and flaming, but still without purpose.
Fiery doom in two handy barrels. Unsurpassed destructive power. Comes with a five shot warranty.
More annoying than fairy fire ever was. And much more deadly.
A primitive flame thrower, the Lance of Hades brings the power of flame to the Phalanx formation.
Flame fowl, brightest red chickens you will ever see, nice feathers for fletching arrows, but I'd pass on the omlet.
Existing at once in the mortal plane and upon the plane of Fire, the Grand Pyre of the Phoenix is the ultimate testament to the power of the Lord Zevarith.
Many begin to path to master the seven-fold flame, but with one exception, no one has ever mastered all seven faces of fire.
Manufacted during the heyday of the Old World, these rods contain the elemental power of flame.
One day a a wind begins to blow out of the West. The next day it gets stronger. And stronger still the next few days. Eventually (and fortunately), the speed of the wind tops out at a steady fifty miles an hour, but continues to blow. Soon an entire kingdom is wondering why it's not abating. The weather mages deem it unnatural but can't seem to banish or control it. The priests of various faiths claim it's divine. The End-Of-Days crowd is having a field day with their predictions of doom. No one knows why the gale persists. When inquiring with neighboring kingdoms, it seems they too suffer from a persistent western mistral. Eventually the populace begins to adapt to living with a twenty four hour a day wind. Always from the West, and perpetual. What could be causing this? A raging Elemental king? a curse from the gods? an unearthed artifact? Or has Nature itself gone haywire?