The Vault: Powdered Armor
“This ain’t armor,” I growled. “This is what pixies leave behind after a night of dancin’!”
The Vault: Guardian Gnome
I’d heard the stories. Built by gnome wizards to scare off kobolds.
The Vault: Belt of Belting
I noticed the belt around his waist. It had shiny gold plates and a huge mouth. Made his voice louder than a dragon’s fart.
The Vault: Weapon of Life and Death
When I stabbed ‘im, the blade shone bright, like the sun itself, an’ I felt a strength rush into me. But just as quick, it went real cold. The air was thick with it. Death.
The Vault: Danger Cube
They had called it the danger cube, and me ears pricked up at the sound, at the possibilities it held within.
The Vault: Gravegun
“Gravegun.” That’s what it whispered, I’m sure of it now.
The Vault: Gobstompers
The first time I invoked the boot’s magic, it was an accident. Grink wouldn’t stop yammering about some shiny rock he found. I swung my foot in irritation, and the moment the boot connected, his jaw snapped shut, silent as stone.
The Vault: The Breakfast Club
The club and I—we ain’t heroes. We ain’t villains neither. We’re just hungry.
The Vault: Orbs of the Illusionist
I knew the stories of the orbs’ dark origins, of a wizard using them to lure children into to his keep, transforming them into goblins to bolster his hordes.
The Vault: Orb of Drilling
They say it belonged to a vampire who lost his teeth. Used it to draw blood from his victims.