A short story set in the Locastus universe.
He had done it a hundred times, taken eyes. It was so easy by now, he rarely used a spoon or knife, but, with his own fingers, would pilfer those beautiful orbs from the skulls of the deceased...
"Hey, Hultz. What are you doing in here?"
"It's gonna move. I don't like it when it moves," the stableboy replied, sitting by the hearth with his arms wrapped around himself.
"What's going to move?"
"The Inn. I don't like it when it moves."
Five minutes later, he gets up and goes back outside.
"What was he talking about?" the newcomer asked a burly fighter.
"Go outside and take a look."
He goes over to the door and flings it wide. "See, it's all still ... Wait! Where did the town go!"
"Welcome to the Brotherhood of the Wild Geese." The fighter comes over with a mug of ale. "Here, you'll probably be needing this. I know I did, when it happened to me."
Soon after, The Trickster came upon another praying mantis, a female in heat. Unable to resist a female of any race, The Trickster obliged the willing creature, being perfectly able in his present form. At the climactic moment something unexpected occurred. As The Trickster issued forth his Divine Seed, the female turned her head slightly, and with blinding speed bit into The Trickster's head, nearly severing it with her first strike. Her next few bites, finished the job, and as Mokkus' headless body spasmed, she began to eat the rest of The Trickster.
-An Excerpt from "The Oral Traditions of the P'Cheela" as Transcribed by Gyma, Deputy Explorer of the Thyran College
"Surely, you wouldn't deprive an old man of his walking stick?" Uh, yeah- you probably should.
For your pleasure and entertainment, here we present, thirty fiendlings seasoned with a whiff of brimstone, teasingly clad in shadow, accompanied by tunes played on pipes of angel-bone; likewise do we tell of the gifts they might bestow upon one in their favor.
So get them before Hell freezes over!
An annotated play list for Bards, Musical Mages, Sirens, and Supernatural Musicians regardless of time frame or setting.
Bells tolled continually, announcing new deaths.
Anger is a great business, people will share it with you for free and if you're savvy enough, you can sell it back to them. The Rage Mages descended from Belligerus's early followers have found that modern world has just as much use for anger and magic as the ancient world.
'If you see a Rage Mage and he's swearing like an army of pirates, then he is a novice and you might be safe. If you see a Rage Mage and he is not only civil towards you, but even pleasant, then run for your life and pray to whatever gods you hold dear, for he is a master of hatred who has conquered his emotions and can turn all of his negative energies directly at you."
- Unnamed mercenary working with a Rage Mage.
Note: not a PG entry.
Zig, zig, zig, Death in a cadence,
Striking with his heel a tomb,
Death at midnight plays a dance-tune,
Zig, zig, zig, on his violin.
"I never want to hear another fiddle for as long as I live!" -Corwin Silvernail
30 Orcish Ornamentations of Outlandish Awesomeness and Some Ordinarily Uninteresting Objects Overcome with Ogreish Opulence!
Time is measured for most by the events that are both constant and special. "How many Christmas's ago was that?" It should be no different for Halflings.
Save/Help the Halflings! They offer rewards. Material and otherwise.
Relics of an ancient necromantic faith: A few strange charms and a small black book. What power do these odd devices hide?
A mighty Kraken, the beloved of Big Red, has been infected by a horrible polar parasite, and the PCs have to find a way to cure her before it is too late...
Due to the nature of tabletop RPGs, a campaign will often start with a random group of strangers. Here are some ways to get them adventuring together, without resorting to the old Tavern trope.
“The perfect execution, painless, quiet, and beautiful”
The Dodge DynaMax is a rare care, coming at exactly the wrong time in history. The End of the muscle car era was nigh, and the market was already filled out with GTOs, Mustangs, Camaros, Chevelles, Novas and a dozen other high performance poor handling vehicles. The DynaMax had a plan to dominate the market with a combination of factory turbochargers and a complex eight speed gearbox. The machine was planned to triumph over the human driver element. What ended up happening was excess costs and mechanical issues saw the turbochargers removed and replaced with a conventional supercharger, and the eight speed transmission ended up being the bane of the car's existence. More DynaMaxes were destroyed or totalled by transmission failures than anything else. The car remains an ugly and ambitious reminder of a day gone by