Hazenbrazen & Gribaldy: Two Necromancers taking over the world one corpse at a time.

As soon as he had set his eyes upon The Sword of all Swords he knew it must be the perfect blade for him. And he would stop at nothing to possess it!

Soft, squeezable, and potentially deadly. Mallow is to be cuddled and feared!

"That not normal dark. My eyes can not see in it." - Bloodrock, Orcish Warrior.

A mighty Demon, now trapped and confused, may make for a powerful ally.

'Music is the wine which inspires one to new generative processes, and I am Bacchus who presses out this glorious wine for mankind and makes them spiritually drunken.' ~Ludwig van Beethoven

Bringing more fantastic elements to the old classic.

'Hell hath no fury like MY RIGHT FOOT!' Shardath yelled as he stomped upon the holy ground.

The Cursed form of poor Shump Thokk. He will offer helpful advice to anyone who dons the helmet.

She wore an odd blue gem stud in her navel, it was a very attractive piece of jewlery. But, I just couldn't seem to get her drunk.

"Aww, dang, did you fart again?" asked the Jordy, The Knight.
"No, screw you! I didn't fart in the first place!" replied The Scoundrel, Harris. What they didn't know was that the Smelbinders could hear their every word.

The Assassin looked at the scroll, smiled and put it away. His work was done...

The Master walked over to the strange symmetrical mechanism. He flipped it over... The sands of the hourglass began to flow and it whirred to life. "One hour," said The Master, "Practice."

"Are you crazy? There ain't no such thing. It's all fairy tales for the stupid and desperate. Even if it were, they all say it's cursed or something. Get back to work."

A ShortBow created by a community of Gnomes who liked to simplify things. It has three strings. Each string has a very different effect.

Here we go! Everything you need for the next barfight that railroads the players into a party. Yes!

It was Young Jim's first battle. He was known for being a tireless worker in the field and a very patriotic young man. But he didn't understand this strange armor they put him in... And he didn't know it would be the Last Armor he ever wore.

'One for you,' He mumbled, pouring some rum onto his boots, 'And a few gulps for me, and we’re off.'

He took a large gulp from the bottle, put his boots on, and was out the door in a flash.

With a twitch of the leg and the push of a button; Houston's boots emitted a massive amount of steam and he was sent headlong into the air.

This is a wretched tome of oceanic blasphemy; a foul water-stained, bone-white binder of bitter dead-men's secrets and a guide to Nautical Necromancy useful in the hands of the young sea-faring necromancer or the Great Lich Umeen herself.