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.

Princess Matriax was the daughter of Lord Greybaer, known from the war as "The Butcher of ..." a handful of towns and a couple provinces. If that wasn't enough, the princess had her own guard, troupe of guards, that was hers to see trained and use as she see fit.

She didn't need a defender, not in the sense of some bodyguard. She was quick to take offense, because it amused her to have an excuse to strike people herself, to "quell the insurgents" herself.

She uses her purse to bash people. Her purse is her defender.

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

A weird way to carry and conceal your stuff.

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

That's no moon ...

A cleaver the size of a large shield.

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

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

The rampaging goblin army that fell the Great Castle Craghold used this evil catapult to do it. That, and a number of their troops as sacrifice...

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

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...

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

Not only an interesting species of fungi, but a fashion statement as well!

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

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.

A metal found deep in the bowels of the earth. It stays warm even after years away from the forge.

A pike that holds the spirit of a brave slain warrior.

A dwarf's fear of the ocean is not baseless. In the unknowable depths lurks an evil that will punish any dwarf arrogant enough to be on anything less than solid land, and unfortunate enough to die.

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