Cursed Gauntlets of Strength

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Type Armour
Discovered By Janna
Discovery Date June 17, 2013
Discovery Location Suville, Atamara
Abilities Prestige +6
+9% Spellcasting
Current Owner Janna


A thick, sinuous mist coiled and slithered around the small hillock a few hundred feet outside the walls of Suville. As Janna Da Hades crouched in the moon-shadowed arch of a modest but decrepit tomb the stench of sulphur and decay grew from a hint to a palpable taste.

The shacks and cabins of the local peasants gave forth no light. They were without exception shuttered and barred. The terrified men and women barricaded within knew all to well the tales of what happened on the dark hill at the full of the moon. Tales of a the stinking mist that rose from the graves and crypts to the music of some unseen horror that played on the moaning wind.

Janna had listened to these tales with an almost dismissive resignation. The vague and nameless fears whispered to her were all too familiar. She knew those who's testimony she had accepted believed her curtness to be born from disbelief but it was simply that she knew them to be true and knew what must be done.

As the first of the rotting things rose from the earth some distance from her she pulled her axes and turned to face the rough wooden door of the tomb. With her weight removed it was pushed open by a decaying hand.

With grim determination she fought whatever approached through the stinking mist. There was no emotion, not any more. Had she once felt fear? Exhilaration? Pain? Had she once known purpose? Duty? Honour? Now there was only a nameless imperative as thoughtless and base as the need for breath. It drove her body through the motions required for survival.

Fight. Kill. Survive.

Eradicate the abominations.

As the sun rose to chase away the moon and burn the rancid mist into the realms of folklore the inhabitants of the shacks and cabins emerged. Some of the more stout of heart climbed the hill to see if the mad woman they had spoken to the previous night had survived her vigil. They found her, slumped against a grave. Wounded but only sleeping. Then they saw the shapes lying among the graves and low stone tombs.

With unspoken agreement they left her there, undisturbed, slumbering in the warming sun.

Some things are too terrible to wake.