We've seen magicians pull rabbits out of a hat, but have you ever seen a druid pull a boar out of his shirt?

A new take on hell that leaves you gasping on the edge of panic.

A small door, often wood but sometimes metal or stone, that is a doorway to an extra-dimensional room.

A weird way to carry and conceal your stuff.

A sword made by ancestors, of ancestors, for desendants. The spirits of the warriors gone before help serve this blade's master in battle.

'Life, what is it but a dream?' - Lewis Carroll

Some bags have more 'extra' than others.

There lies a valley, far to the west, on the shores of The Great Northern Sea, that has a mist that is both blessing and curse. All those that breath the mist heal with remarkable speed, so fast that only the mightiest blow or the truest strike can fell the smallest beast. The warriors who settled this land became soilders of great renown, for not only were they impenetrable defenders, they were warriors whose aim and might were unsurpassed.

Made by an anarchist trying to seed dissent, the potions actually work better than normal potions of understanding languages ... sort of.

This item is silly.

A cleaver the size of a large shield.

Chaos and Law have reached a comprmise and stopped thier warring. This truce holds as long as the respecitve priests honors the other's ways for one day of the year. Lawful preists must incite a large decadant celebration or carelessness and the chaotic priests must chaperone the event and keep the party from turning ugly while remaining out of involvement. Thus the warring of the gods has been kept in check for decades and all is well. At least untill the materials for the party come up missing two short weeks before the truce day...

That's no moon ...

An over sized blowgun with a matching specialized bag of holding. This blowgun is halfling made and it should be noted that 'whiffle' is the halfling word for gerbil.

A magical plauge is disrupting the city of Blue Marina. Victims are found poisioned and covered in weals and, oddly, pennyless. Can the players solve this crisis before rich and poor are destroyed?

A wrong turn in an other wise well meaning curse leaves the PC's in a tight spot...

"With the OP(im) implant you can be the master of your own space and time!" - Advertisement

A sturdy metal heater shield with properties useful to the battle commander or the individual soldier.

Thin, tough, gummy almost to a point of rubber, and pitch black in color, it was only by sheer accident that anyone outside the drow race ever learned it was food.

In case you get a sinking feeling, you can use this.

A short metal rod connected to a longer wooden handle by ... nothing. The rod floats in the air close to the handle.

A staff that was supposed to give control over all the elements was horribly warped by a misspoken incantation.