The endless dark of the depths, the strength of the tsunami, the drowning embrace of the cold, these are the

The Trollshaw Staff is roughly six feet tall, though if the bends in the wood were pulled out straight, the staff would easily be eight or nine feet tall. As it is, it is twisted as a troll itself.

There are certain things that need not be said, and events best left in the past, to be forgotten. Be careful what you wish for.

Love is a powerful emotion, perhaps the strongest. Love conquers all, don't they say; it's blind too. Love potions, love spells, and the magic of amore could be more common than all the magic swords, rings, and wands of magic missle put together...

Untold years, laying in the deep
Sheltered in the sepulchre earth
Borne by the dead who never speak
Funeral Gold and Grave Silver
Beware the gift
Beware the giver

This sword is unique, made only for the Merchant Prince of [insert city] and his loyal band of mercenaries. The Cruaunte is a hand and a half sword, capable of being used with one or two hands, and from horseback or on foot. Thus, the merchant can save both time and money equipping his men with a universally usefull weapon.

'And now Ladies, Lords, and Gentlemen,' I bring your attention to Lot 15. This is nice collection of goods that I am sure you will find interesting. If you see anything that peaks your interest, buy it and the entire lot for cheap. Now I start the bidding at .....'

The teeth of a hungry wolf.
The blood of a murderer.
The cloth of a false saint's burial shroud.

All of these things and more are used in the creation of a Caedea.

An emerald, the size of three fists, and burning with an inner light. A most worthy prize for any adventuring party.

'I've got to finish it, I've got to...'

Your eyes can lie. Blindfolds can slip away. The Dark Latern extinguishes the deception of light and shadow.

Appearing in the form of a massive bloody spider, the Bone Stitcher is one of the more macabre creations of the infernal...

In Aelfa's arms, have I left my anvil...

These were the last words of Davyd, the last master alchemist of the Old World, upon his deathbed. For nine centuries many have sought out Aelfa to find the anvil so that they might create weapons of power equivalent to those crafted during the height of the Old World.

The Grand Arm is a weapon without peer, there is naught a blade nor shield that can withstand it's mighty blows. This ornate weapon is surely the divine tool of the god of war...

Good luck, and good fortune favors those who possess the Pillars of the Alchemist.

These items, potent wards against spirits, were once commonplace. Following the end of the old Empire the methods of their manufacture was lost and none new have been made in the intervening centuries.

GROND!...GROND!...GROND!...
Thousands of orcs chant in unison as their champion and chieftan raises the black iron morningstar, they chant for the hammer of the underworld, the unbeatable weapon of orcdom.

Oft overlooked, and moreso understaffed, the majordomo of Jesolo Manor sought out a sorcerous cousin to craft for him some sort of charm or spell to aid him in the maintainence of the sprawling manor. A six foot staff of twisted oak was his prize.

What is it that hangs from such a fine belt? Tis a sword of Righteous Slaying, and a Mace of Disintegration. A pouch of Perfect Invisibility Dust, and a wand of Endless fireballs?

Good sir, This must be the Belt of Munchkin-kind

Flame burns hot, bringing warmth, life, and hope. Anti-Fire burns too, but it devours heat, and saps the will of life. Before the world could be inhabited, all of the coldfire, and anti-fire had to be collected an hidden away safely. The gods did this, placing it in an urn of brass and hiding it away from the world.