A collection of 30 bardic tales you may hear sung in the local tavern or empresses' court, complete with bardic verse excerpts from all 30 tales themselves.
Many of these tales can also be used as quick plug in adventures for Gm's looking for a side quest. (And let the players exploits be turned into the song by a near by bard perhaps?)
They say you give up a few things, chasing a dream. In those mists that's the literal truth, for every dream of yours that comes true, a piece of yourself, mind, body, or soul, gets taken by the mist. Worst part is, you won't even know what the cost of your dreams are until you go to leave, and by then you might not even have a mind left to change...
A fragment of the mists of creation, drawn to those desperate to make their dreams come true. Suitable for any magical fantasy setting.
The adventurer rode into the golden-hued glade, looking around. If the tribesman he had 'persuaded' to help him hadn't been lying, it should be here. Ah, there it is, he thought. A small pool, with no inlet or outlet. Dismounting, he looked into the crystal-clear water. He could see goldfish swimming around, and beneath them the bottom was covered with golden statues of men and women, mostly nude but some with a kilt or loincloth.
“I'm rich,” he exulted. “That damn tribesman didn't die in vain!” He stripped off his clothes and armor, noting in passing that the ground was mounded, here and there, with weapons, armor, and other items, mostly rusted or rotted by time, and dove into the pool to begin gathering up his wealth.
Silence fell over the glade as the new statue settled onto the others littering the bottom.
Welcome, Lads, to Thunder Reef. A marvel of magical energies existing in harmony with the local fauna. Here, in Thunder Reef, you can find a large variety of oceanic creatures just overflowing with sonic energy. From the lowly Cacophony Crab, to the mighty Thunder-Squid, we will be taking a look at all of them today.
“Swiftly, repent! The Saintmaker is coming!”
I did not think there was a crime heinous enough to deserve this place as a sentence..
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!
The PCs have travelled long and far. As nightfall approaches a mighty storm is unleashed. Luckily there is a lush wood nearby the path.
A good shelter for the rage of the unnamed weather gods it seams at first. As the PCs enter under the roof of this dense wood, they are welcomed by only a few drops wich is allowed trough the thick forest crown. A fire is offcourse required to warm the weary bones of the travellers. As one of the party is set to the task of collecting firewood the others settle down at a suitable location. But alas, they did not know the perils of this forest. But it seems clear to the rest of the party that something ill is at work as the woodcutters scream echo from afar.