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Enchanted Trinkets Complete--a hardcover book containing over 500 magic items for your D&D games!

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Message: <blockquote data-quote="taitzu52" data-source="post: 1674502" data-attributes="member: 21465">Thromgril dreamt.  At first, like many of his dreams, he was with his father in the mines, happily working.  It as just after lunch, and the smell of the meat pies that she had brought them still clung to his beard.  As he and his father worked in tandem to break a large rock, his father stopped suddenly and looked down the shaft.  Thromgril heard a rumbling, like the sound of rushing water, and the air became dank.  In an instant, a flood of red burst forth from the mine, hitting his father and sending him barreling down the shaft, screaming Thromgril's name.  Then, young Thromgril was up to his mouth in gore.  Blood filled the cavern, carrying him away.  All before his eyes was crimson.Then, his ears were filled with the sounds of battle.  Voices cried, some he knew, some were the foul tongues of orc.  The noise of metal crashing into metal, and the gurgling of the death rattle rang in his ears.  He could feel a burning in his chest, he was panting, sweating, pushing his body to the limit.  His vision cleared and he was holding a mighty axe in either hand, cleaving it into whoever stood before him.  He alone stood in battle, upon a mountain of bodies he was raised.  He brought his axe down upon the Great Uruk, splitting him asunder, and he fell into a silent heap.The field was empty, only Thromgril stood, gasping for breath, covered in gristle and blood.  He looked at his feet and then up towards the horizon.  Bodies were everywhere.  As far as the eye could see was death.  Dwarves, men, elves, orcs, and other even more fell beasts.  Alas it all came rushing back to him in the wake of his blind fury:  he had killed them all.  Friend and foe, orc and clansmen, he saw all of their faces as he struck them down.  Their doom was Thromgril.He drew up all the air into his lungs that the stench of the battlefield would allow him to draw, ready to let out a scream of anguish, and then......  Thromgril gently sits up, the greataxe that doubles as his pillow on the ground at his side.  He blinks his eyes and squints as he looks around.  Seeing the young half elf looking down at him he says, "Well, it's about time someone showed up. It was a long walk for me, you know.  Who's he?"  Thromgril points at the man in with the red cross.  "Well it's obvious I missed something.  Are we following him?"  Thromgril gets up, heaves his axe over his shoulder, and follows the strange party.  Absentmindedly, he tosses away the turkey leg , not noticing the red marks in his palm that had bitten into his flesh in his sleep as he held it, remembering nothing of his dream.</blockquote>

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