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

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

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

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

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

Many magical items adventurers seek out help them carry more loot, keep themselves fed and healthy, or just simply hack the bad guys to itty bitty bits. This one lets their loot carry itself.

That's no moon ...

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...

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.

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.

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

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.