Scents of ages past and scents of the zeitgeist. A guild of perfumers.
*Sphhisshh* *Sphhissh* *Sphhissh*
They consumed Great G’bod. They partook of the Giant Slug’s flesh.
During certain years, people in Akgku claim to observe a green flame coming from the sea and erupting upward. It can be observed from a distance of two days’ journey or more. After burning for a considerable time, the flame disappears.
—Falklyde Wodinger, Haraconian scholar, in route to wondrous Udross and legendary Akgku.
Colossal Water Lilies
Space-Faring, Hard-Rocking, Metal-Grinding, Star-Tripping, Deathdealing, Dwarves.
Spare me your Epics!
Despair! Despair! The Dread Crow’s Glare!
Beware the amphibious wolves my child, and most of all, avoid the red-eyed crow!
Wieberburl, home of the peculiar Book-Fish.
The Horrors and Wonders of a distant, sun-drenched land. Everything you need to run a desert campaign!
"When in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,"
-Shakespeares 29th Sonnet.
The Sneel are causing trouble again.
Not quite Science Fiction…
Someone wants Prince Philoj dead. Or?
Wherever the PCs have gone recently, they have heard the talk. The Doomsday Machine of Toothless Amalgam has stopped spitting out birdseed. The End is nigh.
For the coddling of the weak and mewling shall one day be the Downfall of All Races!
—Morkoel Rasher, denouncing Moleskin in verse.
Et deprecabantur eum spiritus dicentes mitte nos in porcos ut in eos introeamus (Mark 5:12)
Hot off the Press! These are not your eldritch manuals or ancient folios of doom. These are random books, a GM can use whenever a PC reaches for a shelf, which usually happens when said GM is least expecting it. These can be found in most libraries, many private homes, and anywhere else one could expect to find a book. More than a few have some built-in plot hooklings as well, while others, like many books of our age, are plain drivel.
Oazduke's Vengeful Head.
The head haunts all headsman and executioners.
A floating, bloody head, long separated from its body, is a particular legend among a very particular group of people, executioners, specifically those that chop heads from a block for a living. It was that infamous highway robber, Oazduke the Vengeful, who when finally captured and put to the axe, screamed his foul hex, seconds before his head flew off.
"You will know it is me when I'm through
A curse on your ilk and on you!
May my severed head haunt you eternal
Frightening you headsmen infernal!"
Years later, not one but two(!) weary, puffy-eyed, spooked, headsmen, haunted day and night by Oazduke's insufferable severed head, approach the party cleric in order to hire him to exorcise the ghost head once and for all.