The most important horse race of the year is fast approaching, thousands are expected to attend. Too bad that the horse favored to win has gone missing…
A town with rather strange inhabitants is in need and offers a moral decision for the party…
There is an assassin on the loose and nobody knows where he will strike next. Two seemingly nonassociated merchants got the knife in the back of the neck, and that was just the week ago. Rumors have it that some guilds are cleaning house and there are numerous other contracts pending. A large scale guild war seems inevitable.
War is brewing over the new fertile lands next to the Otane River. Trade has ceased and conflict is thick in the air. Contacts must be kept and messages must still be sent to allies in each of the cities. Spies are untrustworthy and the loyal ones cannot be spared. The need for those competent and smart enough to deliver state secrets is desperately needed.
Every five years the wandering nomads of the land have a large gathering bringing them together from all over. Unfortunately a town has sprung up on top of their gathering place. Live in peace and deal with each other or will the overlapping of two entirely different cultures clash in a bad way?
They awaken with the tilt of a ship on the open sea. Any glimpses they see of the water is an endless expanse of blue. They are chained at their wrists and ankles with the chain going through an eye hook in the floorboard and then connecting them to their bench mate. A stowed oar is resting in front of them ready to be deployed. Life as a galley slave can be hard.
An outlying village is actively searching the nearby city for mercenaries to help them protect their village.
Armed city guards came into the tavern quickly, and efficiently blocked all the exits. He announces to the chosen that they have just been inducted into the city guard and are hereby ordered to serve their city.
Once every decade on the eve of St. Poskov's Day during mid-winter, the coastal city of Tiyabon experiences a horrific event. Quool's Tide rolls in, depositing hundreds of bloated, fish-eaten corpses upon the pebbly shores of Tiyabon's wide bay. This singularity is to this day unexplained, though countless theories abound. It is said for example, that these corpses are not eaten by the myriad fish of the seas completely, due to the fear all creatures of the seas hold for Quool.
Named for Quool, a terrible, antediluvian god of seas and storms, who no longer exists for he has no worshipers, the Tide chokes the beaches and surf with the countless rotting bodies of those who had perished at sea in a violent way.
Almost immediately, the lifeless corpses are fed upon by crabs, gulls, and worse things that await the horrid feast. The townsfolk let nature take it course with disinterested disgust, though lately some enterprising adventurers have taken to searching along the beaches of flesh for former deceased companions, with intentions of raising them again!
Surprisingly no undead ever rise from among the many corpses. This is also a mystery.