The plot hooks section is quite slim, especially with the mischief and outright disaster an anti-magic banner can wreak.
Also, I'd suggest adding some quirks and more personality a) to the known banners b) to the banners in general. So far, they're indestructible anti-magic banners. Woo.
It's okay, I guess.
I'd have welcomed alternative uses - so far, it's pretty straightforward.
> Blood beasts, in making all blood as one, could serve as universal transfusions!
> They could be distilled into healing agents!
> A colossal blood beast, stuck in a magical trap, could leak and feed a debased tribe with a fountain of unholy blood!
Your description led me to the truth of Nortelbean swiftly and without force, even before you stated the truth. .
The sub leaves me hungry for more, though - after the aperitif, a chunk of meat should come.
Care to add?
Please do ;)
I noticed several spelling and grammar errors, and the prose could use some smoothing out.
Other than that, the plant on its own is OK, the background how a healing herb brought down a city is quite original as well.
I'm withholding the vote for now.
The minions of the Tree
Who keeps the dead god-emperor company besides his deceased children? It is the men of Valersund, forever bent by his sorcery, their flesh sustained by his will and their minds sundered by his presence.
They are hulking creatures, with exaggerated muscles bordering on the grotesque, and elongated arms ending often in rending claws. Some possess more than two, with extra appendages of murderous intent growing from their hunched backs, now useless mouths or as tails.
Though hideously deformed, they still are less horrid than their larger brethren, who consist of several fused bodies, walking on six legs and wielding weapons in all directions, or the jumbled amalgams of man and beast.
Each will also have a female face growing somewhere, disturbingly beautiful amidst his misshapen features; it is the face of the female who once commanded him, and forever it whispers to him the will of the god-emperor. The link, though, can be severed with magic or a weapon capable of harming ghosts, leading to confusion on the beast's part.
They are clad in remnants of armor, often of excellent make, and wrapped in shreds of dead flesh, skin and bone of those who sought to desecrate the Emperor's resting place. All over their skin, a strange slimy membrane is spread, exuded by the dead deity, to allow them to exist in the cold and thin air of the mountain summit, keeping them forever just beyond the grasp of death.
For weapons, the Servant Sons use their monstrous bodies, or man-made weapons, some of them even objects of power.
Most are hopelessly insane, driven but by the dead god-thing's will, though a select few embraced their monarch's influence and gave themselves to it, keeping reasoning and cunning largely intact, and their madness subtle.
Stalinians... reaaaaally? Any less obvious allusions?
And Owlongwilyouphuck is plain vulgar.
The Luggage is copied - your version is less aggressive etc., but still.
A layer of chainmail will not make a breastplate.
You seem to have re-used items from previous submissions.
There's some grammar issues as well.
All in all: do not hurry the 30s. Give it more thought.
Could be a nice change of pace.
As it is written, a sensible party will have little difficulty achieving their goal; the challenge depends mainly upon the ease with which they can discover each dragon's fancy.
Tjamaladara might detest falsehood, being straightforward; she could test the PCs' mettle as well, deciding upon their performance whether they're worth wasting time at all.
Shadrevaen could react favorably to behavior patterns seen in romanticized works, and less well to a pragmatic approach. A knight-in-shining armor or minnesanger might be the best negotiator, especially if putting on sufficient pathos. She could want the PCs to capture a famous bard for her (and locking him in a cage like a bird).
Zaulphiria, even though vain, might have the tooth of suspicion gnawing at her - what if she no longer looks her best? Carefully worded, an offer of lasting beauty-enhancing treatments would be worth a ton of bonus points. Badly phrased, it would get the PCs a massive minus.
I like the image of an insidious tequila worm that is up to no good. I picture him with a tiny sombrero on his wormy head.
The sole objection: Donovan, being a competent wizard using suggestion magicks should have found it quite easy to go all Jedi on the investors. "You WANT to revise the contract. The original Timmy is FAR better. No one will LOVE you unless you abandon this folly."