Such a bloodied claymore has history way back through lines of father and son. In fact only one place near the handle still holds a metal tone, because of a magical barrier, and it has ingraved in it words that forever speak out to the swords bearer. Those words, like a guilty memory, can never be forgot.
“Thou who shall kill a sons father, shall then be killed by a fathers son.”
The Great White Dragon is rarely seen. Nobody knows where he slumbers, but they do know his cave is on one of the highest peaks in the world. Only few stories have made it to be Known about across the lands. Few ever made it back to there home villages to tell the story.
A king so vile and treacherous was cursed many centuries ago to forever roam the earth. He is now a serf of earths will and shall be anywhere needed to stop the destruction of earths its bueatiful landscapes and creatures.
The road has never been more than an overgrown mud track, little travelled and little cared for, petered out to nothing more than a flattened earthen line, barely distinguishable from the rest of the landscape. The soil is dark and fecund and dark oaks stand like sentinels at the forest edge, their branches high and leafy. From them hang grizzly human bones, skulls and shiny precious stones. Who put these strange totems there? Are they warnings? Do the PCs dare to take the stones?