Gather your hatred about you, and master it, my brothers. It is the strength behind your shield, the speed of your blade. Do not abandon it, for without it, you are empty indeed.
The Unyielding Rage
A tiny ampoule of steel and old, clotted blood, hung from a black iron chain, the Amulet of Dark Valor holds the drive of the furies.
There are reports of a monster that lurks in the tops of trees and drops down on unsuspecting people. It causes them no damage but it frightens them with a hide-like face with big dead eyes, drooling and barking like a dog while unsuccessfully attempting to have intercourse. The PCs investigate and find that it is the local village moron that is doing the spelunking in the woods. How can they explain this otherwise pleasant and merry man that it is wrong to put on a mask, drop down from trees and attempt intercourse with relatives and neighbours.