"Bavmor could not possibly have known that the flask was incomplete due to the magical method of its creation. Had Bavmor taken an alchemical approach, he would have known that 10 more ingredients have yet to be found."
- Fitchinger the Great
Buttons, how could you?
A strange group of ghosts plague the grave yard, only seen under the light of the full moon and known to drive most men mad that hear their gibbering speech.
(A simple plug in side-quest with a twist, that is left a little generalized to fit in with any fantasy campaign with minimal prep work by a gm.)
We’ve all heard them over the years, and in every story there is a grain of truth…
The bard tuned his lyre for the 5th time. He looked at his reflection in the mirror. Ancient eyes greeted him. This would be his last performance, it had to be perfect.
I have fled in the shape of the raven of prophetic speech
“Ye’ve ‘eerd th’ one ‘bout th’ king who’ll send 3000 gold royals te th’ lucky man thet sends ‘im a letter back t’ test th’ Royal Mail, an’ ye heerd aboot th’ succubus that makes off wi’ mens’ kitlins after she ‘as ‘er way wi’ em, but ha’ ye heerd aboot th’ beggar lad that wants a stone from ever’ village in th’ kingdom?
Two characters, one player, and no way to tell which is the real one.
Lying prostrate on the floor, his documents and scrolls strewn beneath him, was Taewoo Kin - clearly dead, with gruesome marks around his neck that suggested strangulation by something of disturbingly inhuman origin…
The Players are asked to escort a prisoner to a point where he can be exchanged. But first they have to break him out of the dungeon…
Jaelric the Black, Shatterer of the Countryside isn’t feeling up to par. And he needs a little bit of help.
The greedy demon, Shikan, terrorized the countryside of the North, killing whomever and plundering whatever he fancied. No one dared to challenge his might, and his ego and reputation grew bloated and over-ripe…
The PCs find themselves on a diplomatic mission, to return the Statue of Helce to the country from whom it was stolen long ago. They soon find themselves tied up in conspiracy, guerilla warfare and a surprising amount of molten rock…
A prized possession lost ... easy to hurt, difficult to find, and with a tendency to lose itself again, only a white feather left behind…
Sometimes, just sometimes, the best response isn’t to go for your sword first and ask questions afterwards.
A short adventure synopsis for any party which is getting a little too big for it’s boots.
A group of travelers come across an abandoned village and find themselves in a battle for their lives.
Selene’s life revolves around a secret that not even she knows. It is when this secret is revealed to her; that she can go and fufill her own destiny…
(inspired from the dream walkers thread)
Sometimes things are simpler then they look…
“Winds and waters keep,
a hush more dead than any sleep”
- W. Allingham, Ruined Chapel.
The trade ships from Menast have failed to arrive, but why?
Sages and naturalists frown at the common name given to these strange creatures by the small folk, but sometimes the silliest nicknames for creatures, places and people persevere in the minds of many. “Purifiers”, “Pond Jellies”, “Breath-Stealers”, “Lung-Ticklers” and “River Butterflies” are much less commonly heard appellations for these life forms. Wet Faeries are basically (and simply) a species of fist-sized, fresh-water jellyfish. Several traits steer them toward the peculiar category however. Firstly, Wet Faeries are nearly invisible in the water, much like their marine cousins but even more so. One can swim in a river swarming with these critters and not even notice their presence. Secondly, they possess the unique ability to clean and purify whatever body of water they inhabit. They do this via some sort of biological filtration process, sucking in all toxins present in the water, and releasing it back in its purest form. Needless to say, they are both a blessing and a curse to whichever folk dwell beside the rivers and lakes Wet Faeries inhabit. On one hand, no purer water can be found anywhere than a Wet Faerie lake or pond, and yet, in “pure” water “life” tends in fact to die out, lacking the needed nutrients to prosper. Thirdly, their “sting” is (unfortunately) virulently poisonous to all mammalians. Wet Faeries are loathe to sting anyone or anything, using their barbed fronds as a last line of defense, but if stung, most swimmers will suffer respiratory arrest, and die within minutes, usually drowning before they can make it back to shore.
Alchemists, druids, and less savory characters have studied these creatures over the years, and have predictably found all the ways Wet Faeries could be exploited. Morbidly humorous, some bards find it, that the Poisoners and Assassins Guilds as well as the Healer’s Union, all prize these creatures. The assassins use the extracted venom in obvious fashion, while the priests and healers use the still-living jelly-fish to sterilize other poison potions and to cure those already poisoned on death’s door.
It is known that a certain Earl Von Trumble keeps his vast castle moat stocked with Wet Faeries, the waters so clear that every bone of every one of his past enemies can be clearly seen on the bottom, twenty two feet below.