Man, too, is a primal creature, though he binds himself with the chains named Reason and Law, locked link by link from birth. Yet, those locks can be opened, the links broken, in both the savage world of the street-slum, and in the gilded cages of nobility.
One such creature is the countess-to-be, Alia duBois, who crouches within her golden jail, a puma waiting paitently to maul her captors…
A white silken mask with burnt edges. A white little mask which eventually led it’s wearer to be burnt at the stake.
Has your kid been acting strangely? Returning home late at night, bearing bruises and clothes torn? Something else than puberty may be the reason.
Lacking in ornamentation, the Black Spear is a relic more than 8000 years old
The darkens as travelers draw near, the wind begins to pick up, to howl. Here, the sun does not shine, the stars and moon are forever hidden by the Stormshroud, the eternal storm…
A brilliant and driven man, he has emerged as a major merchant from the sands of Aviansis (the hard lands of the Aviontix). He has other goals beyond mere successful merchantry. He does not want to take over the country, he wants the world… for the good of everyone.
By Decree of her Royal Majesty, the possession, ownership, or consumption of any alcoholic substance has been henceforth been declared unlawful, and said violators of the Queen’s will shall be subject to punishment.
Some elves lose patience teaching the ‘young’ races, and set out to employ harsher methods. A few doubt the very intent of mother nature, and set out to bring their own vision to life.
All know that Elves cannot die, and that Men do. All know that Men go unto the Underworld upon their death, and that the Elves retire unto the Spiritual Elysium. Yet in the Great Scheme, where goes the one with one foot in the Underworld, and one foot in the Realm of Spirit?
The bell calls from its lonely tower, ringing across the valley. For whom does the bell toll, it tolls for thee…
That there is a big gun, partner…
Sure is. Feeling lucky?
Someone has been raiding the coast. The PC’s are dispatched to help - but can they trust the local authorities?
Day in and day out the library and labs Robert was always about. When questioned of his motions, he explained he was fetching his master’s potions, but secretly crafting a wand is what he pained. In the end an ebony wand was made, it would be known later as Trotters Unfair Trade.
A famous hero has died, but his dying request was the be buried beneath the willow, and he has asked the PCs if they will carry his body there and bury him.
To many, the clerics of the Gods of Death are reviled as evil monsters, conspirators of demons, and raisers of undead armies. How often is the common perception wrong?
Honor, ethics, morality, civilization, these are mere trappings. Playthings that people use to hide from the world. They’ve all forgotten. No sword is untried by fire, and so it is with man.
I am the fire that will test man.
Was this to be his last sight, then? These bloody-red gums, these rusty, iron teeth? Where were the Gods to defend him from Bloody Smile?
“Your eye, your eye!” crowed Imupokith, the Sea-Witch, and Vruthath, clutching his bleeding socket, held out his hand.
Upon the palm was a staring green eye.
A lot of travelling singers have a flame or incessant longing in their heart.This woman’s heart holds something more as well.
“Clear glacial water, spring barley, winter wheat and summer hops are what good ales are known for. The ale should not be too old or it will be stale or bitter, it must breath or the favor won’t be just right, and most importantly it should be chilled to just a hair above freezing, so the taste is sharp and crisp” ~ Taliwar Jil - Master Brewer, Far Doman
A little way up the narrow valley, before they reach the woods, the PCs notice the squat, tumbledown buildings by the riverside. They are hardly big enough for a human to stand in, and the complex cogs and shafts that occupy the central cavity of one of the buildings are perplexing. What were these buildings? And how safe are they to explore?
Alternatively a desolate place is the perfect setting for a derelict chapel or croft. There needn't be any actual physical encounter involved, but it adds atmosphere to a place to see its dead history. For instance, in the Outer Hebrides there are whole deserted villages which were razed to the ground by the English during the Clearances. Such stories give a setting authenticity and character.