A sword that stores the identity of the wielder. To transfuse the soul to the blade, one must first stab himself through the heart. The person will not die, but lose the freedom of the soul upon real death.
A young girl with a dirty face and tattered dress stands near the town market offering to sell the PCs freshly cut flowers. They are only a single copper a piece, and smell nice. Perhaps the PCs will be generous with their wealth, or they will not. Great for paranoid parties.