‘You are freed from all cares brothers and sisters! All worries! All need to toil and labour for the baron’s taxes, in the guild’s fields and for the peddler’s wares! All the drink you could ever need!’
Final words of an extremely drunk hedge conjurer by name of Oates Greenlock.
A goddess with a holy object of veneration in every pocket, wallet and bank; as well as down the sides of the big comfy chair in the inn.
"A demonic plant? Don't be daft, go research something useful to society."
"But-but the p-plant! It's evil! It must be destroyed!"
"Now the flowers bloom all year round thanks to the most holy Spirit of Urban flora. It just takes a little blood."
A local sculptor of note has chosen to honor the adventurers by crafting lifelike statues of them. While he hopes to surprise them by setting the statues up in their home while they are off adventuring, he may have underestimated the paranoia of the typical adventurer. Provided that he can get in, is he likely to survive whatever precautions they have against intruders? Assuming he lives, what will they make of finding statues in their house?