A particularly volatile element, Imuricum is found in Adamantite covered by Red Mui'aan Fungus. Only the greatest of alchemists dare attempt extracting Raw Imuricum; only the most foolish metallurgists mix it with inferior materials, and only the bravest blacksmiths will create weapons from this rare and dangerous metal.

Lavish glade and lush green field,

Wizen'd oaks; to the blight all yield.

Weeping trees of crimson blood,

the Fields of Flesh turn life to mud.

Will you tread and smile and sleep

where devils dance and angels weep?

Originally a failed invention, the usefulness of Nurin beads have since been redifined for a more nefarious purpose. Those who know of the usefulness of these gems are able to get whatever they want from their most hated enemy, and incriminate them just hours later.

... And Alexi, Please don't let this bring you down. You have your entire life ahead of you - Let me become nothing more than a memory. We will never see each other again.

- Valdus

It sees you, can you see it? Even when the room is lit?
Funny how those shadows twist, as though the room were filled with mist.
But theres no mist, the room is clear! About now, you should start to fear.
clear your mind, take a last breath. For in a second, you'll meet with death.

A simple, almost clear potion with a misty swirl within it. Pungeant smelling and extremely poisonous to drink. Its purpose isn't to drink, however, but to call upon aid.

For three long days the violent storm had ravaged the town of Iolinas, and the townsfolk had begun to wonder if it would ever end. Strangely, towards the end of the third day, the rain stopped suddenly, though the winds still buffetted the town relentlessly; some townsfolk thought it was finally the break in the storm. Others thought it was a portent of worse things to come... These people were correct.

These mites fly silently and are small enough to be nearly invisible to the naked eye. If it was not for light, no one would know they were there. These creatures absorb and re-emmit light, turning dim to bright, and bright to blinding.

Herein lies the histories of Warpriest Lazarus, righteous fist of Tridoa. Lord Lightward the Lunar Hammer.

Herein lies the birth of Lazarus Lightward the Hellpriest; Trickster of Devils and Master of the Bloodied Moon.

A curiously designed ring - but not uncommon. Similar in design to most traditional ‘magi-rings’, which often hold enchantments on them. But unlike those rings, this one may take quite a hold on you…

Forget the rickety, fragile skeletons. Remove all thoughts of the limping, weak zombies. Shrug off thoughts of blood-dependant vampires. Whereas the former are reflections of necromatic magic, the Mogrolyth is a creation derived from the pure essence of unholy power - namely pain.

The tale of colourshade of the two-fold, and his reknowned skill of painting.

Few in the history of the world have mastered creation of the aspect stones - certainly there is no mortal alive today that could craft one. Few even know of such an items existence. It is said, however, that all legends are derived from truths, and the Aspect stones may be the fact behind many great myths.

An unassuming sewing needle, five to six inches long. Certainly nothing out of the ordinary.

Quote from: 'Sir Isaac Newton' Every action has an equal and opposite reaction

'You know that saying that man made god? No, of course you don't. But we didn't make god. We made the Devil, and god is just a word the frightened cling to, to protect them from their own creation. And you? You are my creation. You are my devil.

A christmas gift to my fellow citadelians, made in my favourite medium. Of course, you all know what my gifts are like. But hey, Christmas is a time of giving!

Mora stepped up to the wicked-looking pipe-organ; the carved demonic head which it was made from leered silently at him. Sweating with anxiety, Mora looked back to his friends before swallowing hard and shakily bringing his fingers to the ivory.

Mora pressed the keys down into several minor chords, and a thunderous peal of music echoed, sounding mockingly similar to a church. Suddenly, the eyes of the carved head lit up with fire, and with a *WHOOSH* a pillar of flames burst into life around Mora. The man's screams were cut short after just a second and the fire disappeared just as quickly. Mora was gone.

After a moment of shocked silence, Mora's friends cheered excitedly.

An innocent square of delicate material - barely larger than a handkerchief in size. However, those who's skin come into contact with this cloth, may find themselves wishing they never handled it.