“ A simple flag, faded by time and sun, tattered and worn by untold years flying from the pole of a bannerman, passing hands from officer to officer, from one generation to another. It is a humble symbol of great importance, and greater inspiration to those who see it. Soldiers become heros filled with espirit de corps, enemies loose their nerve and fire. It is not an enchanted item, but a powerful item still...”
“ The Rhenn Plains are serene and peaceful, beautiful, and quiet as if nothing had ever had happened to it, hiding away it's violent present and past. During some time ago, the countries needed land to fight on, for they did not want war to come to their home, so they chose the Rhenn Plains, Armies met there and men died on the lands, so the land has been empty always. But now there has been set an outpost and they are beset by the goverments wanting to keep it free, will the soldiers of the barracks prevail, or fall trying?”
“ The accepted mode of getting otherwise unobtainable information is to go visit the cranky old hermit living in the mountains. It's just the sensible thing to do. So, naturally, everyone takes their monthly excursion to the hermit's hovel to consult him on everything, from lock-jaw to lovesickness, necromancers to nasal viruses.
Now, if everyone's always visiting the poor old hermit, there's going to be an enormous queue... 'Wellcome to the Hermitt's Hovele, Please Take Ye a Number and Have Ye a Seate' reads the sign outside the packed dwelling.
Imagine the poor hermit, having retreated into the mountains to escape this precise situation...”
