Here lad, you take it. We’ve been through a lot this pot and I, ever since the last Great War, but you’re too young to remember that one. I had this with me in all my campaigns after that. The Althial Border Wars, the rising of the Dragon Lords, the Dwarven Rage… Ah but I’m old and toothless now an’ it’s no use to me. Take the pot lad, use it well. At least you’ll always be guarenteed a reasonable meal
The Sisters may be found anywhere from street corners, where they offer to tell ones future for a few pennies, to those who appear to be working for the service of a lord. It is said that they go where they will, when they will they work for who they choose, not for who chooses them.
Seen by some as warriors for the gods, and by others as mere mercenaries drapped in a priests robes.
Ibn Al-Fadyn is no ordinary weaver of tales, but instead tells tales of infromation and observation.
Moonlight shines down on the tranquil scene of a slumbering inn along one of the many roads that cross the land. Trees sway gently in the night air, and the stars twinkle brightly. All is quiet as the PCs snore away, a fine tendril of smoke curlsrnunder their door. The tavern is on fire! This is particularly bad news if the PCs own any horses - the screaming they hear is probably from their mounts! Panicky people are rushing about with buckets of water, trying to tame the flames. The fire fighting effort is not very coordinated as everybody is either hungover or still drunk, including the PCs. Hurry!