The dread pirate Corvorane was legendary even after his capture and conversion to a privateer. His secret fortress and hidden treasure are of equal fame. But more than gold lurks in the depths of Corvorane’s Cave.
Bad luck just seems to follow him everywhere. Some say its a curse, others its just in his head. But there’s one thing everyone can agree about Poor Josias: he is a sad, sad man.
“In the Black, dead souls creep
Seeking vengence without sleep.
Sacrificed for precious stones,
Rend they now flesh and bones.
Bloody staind and drenched in tears,
Stones cry out to one who hears,
‘Treachery has sown the seeds!
Now you’ll be the one who bleeds!
Wear us well, you who brave,
Next you’ll be in the grave!’”
- Tas-Vessina’s curse
“Jones, when was the last time ye cleared yer hulls?”
“Mm, a few months back. Why?”
“Yer ship. She’s comin’ outta the water.”
“Let me to battle, Brother. I shall sweep thine enemies as the wind, and thou shalt have vict’ry.” -St. Vedast’s revelation to Hural
Winner of The Shards of the Storm Quest.
An aloof race of intelligent amphibians, the S’krae are an honor bound culture who have unusual customs.
“8 Ortio, 986 - At last, I’ve captured the amulet! I certainly could not have done it without the help of my unusual mercenary companion. He has very much impressed me with his skill. We encamp in Durath Woods for the night and make for Kharath in the morning.
9 Ortio, 986 - Amulet missing. So is Thaxen. No longer impressed with merc.”
-Sir Wardren Lank’s journal
The sight of a war forbici on the battle field makes some laugh, others fearful, and some simply confused. In well-trained hands, however, it can be a lethal weapon.
Failure. For most, it is an occasional streak of bad luck to be suffered. For others… well, it’s a living.
“The great hulk of the scaled beast lay wheezing before me, and I am not ashamed to say that I was frightened: though it was injured, I knew the dragon could easily tear me in twain. The young monk, however, knelt beside the creature’s head, whispering to it in a strange growling tongue. I questioned the woman, but she ignored me completely, engrossed in examining the scaly monster. After much badgering, she said merely, ‘I do not mean to be rude, but you are quite a distraction. Please, leave me to my work.’” -Jeron’s Great Journeys, Book III, Chapter 4
In a crowded marketplace, a man is standing on a soapbox, orating. Some of the crowd are cheering, some hissing, some standing around saying "I can't hear a bl**dy word he's saying". It's a hustings for an election. The PCs can either leave, or stay and listen. If they do the latter, then they can vote too, and they might get quite involved in the cheering. Depending on who wins they might get quite involved in the post-election brawl too...
There are numerous possibilities with this encounter: the PCs might end up talking to one of the nervous candidates before their speech, and offer encouragement and support. Of course this candidate may well turn out to be someone with outspokenly unorthodox views, and the crowd don't take kindly to s/his supporters. Or maybe the seemingly innocuous candidate turns out to be a complete racist, and the PCs wander off embarrassedly, pretending they weren't talking to this person five minutes ago.