A mythic sword thats only power is legend.
The tears of a blinded god created it.
A list of harmless (if sometimes annoying) potions.
A blade that lives, and has lived for millennia.
The story I am about to tell you is one of magic and of monsters, of bravery and courage, of good and of evil, but most importantly of Flame and he who wished to quench it - Old Cro, the story teller.
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.