Traps for the outside. It is not only the dungeons and ancient tombs that are dangerous.
A collection of traps that are located on doors, doorways and portals of all kinds.
Sometimes it is necessary. Sometimes it just happens. Whether to a PC or NPC, a curse is something nasty that changes their life significantly, and not for the better. You were warned.
A small valley that leads nowhere… why is it so important to the locals?
This is a scroll of locations that are somewhat out of the normal.
Dreams are another way to announce the future, to add colour, to guide the characters or even mislead them. This is a scroll of various dreams.
One player. One Game Master. Roleplaying in this way is slightly different than with a group.
An adventurer guild is a way to provide plot hooks, motivation and social context for such a weird and diverse group of people known as “adventurers”. It can can offer interesting options, in-game and out-of-game.
The Pelezians, or “clay people” were strongly bound to the earth. In fertile plains and valleys they lived their happy existence, peaceful, yet ever on their guard. Many nomadic attackers they defeated, until a different enemy came; their advanced technology and weapons (and magic) were beyond the skills of defenders. One-by-one their settlements fell, until the clay people were not more.
To the greedy students of the past, their heritage is but not forgotten.
Many of the Undead face this terrible fate for mistakes of their own. Dark sins, or conscience heavy for the criminal deeds they have commited, they cannot pass on and linger in this world. But some do not deserve this curse…
This is more an overview of the subject, than a complete article. As one of my PCs had pottery in background, I tried to research it a bit, but given up after seeing way too much data.
Magic is a strange power, that can be harnessed (or not?), but never fully understood. Magic should be unique. Magic could be REALLY unique on this one world…
It is said that dwarves have problems with using magic (maybe they cannot cast spells at all). This is an attempt to create a distinctly dwarwen school of magic. The way you use it is of course yours.
Settled two hundred years before, the people were fleeing war and tyranny. Establishing a comfortable existence in the fertile, but empty valleys, they soon learned who the lands belong to. A mighty dragon called only Death, came and burned the city to the ground, and later again, and again, sending with fire also his (hers?) evil laughter and shouts of pleasure at the destruction. The survivors did not wish to leave, and decided for a new strategy.
It was some sixty years ago, a great flood on the river caused a lot of damage. The baron ordered masive works to be undertaken, to widen the river’s channel above its usual level. The “over-channel” spreads a few hundred yards on both shores of the river. This was to be a sufficient safeguard against any flood.
The Judge is the Ultimate Judge, who judges all beings after death. After death, you face The One. He measures your worth and determines your faith appropriately.
Those who have created the world. Those who are few but seem like many. Those who will be worshipped forever, if but in a different guise.
Graves of a small, little known folk, exotic as dangerous.
The simple graves of a folk long gone, these are still favoured by graverobbers.
Finghaart’s sausages hasn’t moved since its founding. For all its reknown, it is quite a poor neighborhood.
Once every decade on the eve of St. Poskov's Day during mid-winter, the coastal city of Tiyabon experiences a horrific event. Quool's Tide rolls in, depositing hundreds of bloated, fish-eaten corpses upon the pebbly shores of Tiyabon's wide bay. This singularity is to this day unexplained, though countless theories abound. It is said for example, that these corpses are not eaten by the myriad fish of the seas completely, due to the fear all creatures of the seas hold for Quool.
Named for Quool, a terrible, antediluvian god of seas and storms, who no longer exists for he has no worshipers, the Tide chokes the beaches and surf with the countless rotting bodies of those who had perished at sea in a violent way.
Almost immediately, the lifeless corpses are fed upon by crabs, gulls, and worse things that await the horrid feast. The townsfolk let nature take it course with disinterested disgust, though lately some enterprising adventurers have taken to searching along the beaches of flesh for former deceased companions, with intentions of raising them again!
Surprisingly no undead ever rise from among the many corpses. This is also a mystery.