"Private documents need protecting? no problem just get a burn box"
Forcing party members into a furnace is fun!
Darn, this hallway is really long…
It is said wizards don’t work well with others of their kind. Once they have a tower, woe to anyone not recognizing their superiority, that is the rule. But to every rule is an exception. Once, there were three wizards, on friendly terms, that built their towers closer than anyone before. The towers are lost, the knowledge therein may be yet reclaimed.
The TheoRgs are known for being amongst the biggest, toughest, and most generally unpleasant sentients in the galaxy. And this is their nightclub.
A local Wizard, rumored to have lost his mind, like he has his hand, Has issued a Challenge and a prize for all. Simple-Enter his tower and find him to claim your prize.
In the ramshackle town of Spear Malice only a single building still stands. It has defied the Great War and its spears of light; nuclear blasts that devastated the entire state, and ever since then it has defied the onslaught of time.
Its halls have not yet been breached, and a wealth of technological treasure await, ripe for plunder! But there are others who crave this treasure; others that will do anything to claim it.
Before the honored dead are placed in their sarcophagi of alabaster, they come to the Villa of the Embalmers.
The players have a chance to cure the plague that has sprouted up upon their travels. Will they choose to do the right thing and help bring health back to the region?
A tough climb for a source of wonderous healing…
"Calm your mind"," the mage said. "I can’t" says Raygar. "It is like my thoughts are echoing in here. It is so loud!" The mage tried to shift the burly bandit, to drag him out of the room. "This is a prayer room, what to ..." The mage practically leapt to the dais. Sitting in the center he sank in a position of reflection and prayed. The mage heard the click. The bandit sighed slightly in the tiniest relief. The mage began to drag the bandit out of the room, heading to and opening one of the doors.
What’s this round thing on the wall…
Spoken only in legends and even then in hushed whispers, PochÃ¢??Agoura is a name that sends children scurrying into their parents beds. Most people do not believe the old legends that the Dread Walker once subjected the entire world to an endless dark, a mindless machine of destruction that corrupted all in his path. But you see there is always a little fact in legends and myths and this is no different.
A simple, effective dungeon trap that satisfies the requirements to be used several times and without decaying.
For three long days the violent storm had ravaged the town of Iolinas, and the townsfolk had begun to wonder if it would ever end. Strangely, towards the end of the third day, the rain stopped suddenly, though the winds still buffetted the town relentlessly; some townsfolk thought it was finally the break in the storm. Others thought it was a portent of worse things to come… These people were correct.
You follow the map your purchased. It is to lead to the lair of Tergars the Dark. You follow through the woods, and find the rocks that lead into the hillside. The troupe creeps inside. Inside you find burned out candles, recent trash, and a few broken kegs. It is not Orc remains… there are funny and obscene things written on the walls with charcoal written in the local tongue. It is strange… unless….
The First Men buried their Kings and “Big People” (Nobles and other Important people) in underhills - tombs made under hills of earth called Barrows. While this custom seems quite common, the First Men were not. The First Men were closer to The Mythics - The Shidhe (Elves) and Dwarves - and The True Dreaming Magics than Modern Men. Thus entering their barrows means you are entering a different world and time.
As with any eco system, there is a pattern of life and death. Unfortunately when there is death, there is often trapped emotions, suffering, and other things that “complicate” the process of transition. Add to this mix the presence of magic and gods and the chances of complications multiply. These complications are known to the mortals as Ghosts, Spectres, and various forms of material Undead.
"The Pegoran saw the circle as the link between this world and the next," the mage said. Before he could pontificate further, "So the door rolled in Raygar to send him to the next?" the rogue blathered, "What a mad peoples!"
Enacted roughly 4 years ago, the Dungeon Preservation act sought to map out and better understand the dungeon ecosystem, and to protect it.
Department of Dungeon Preservation
A weapon of war created by an extinct race, this rat appears normal but is a simulacrum - beneath it’s mangy fur is a body of bronze. Commanded by words in a lost language, wherever it goes a virulent and lethal plague follows. The cure is similarly obscure.