If you helped the Grazuul Tribe, others require similar help. The reward is bigger, as the risks.
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.
A continuation to the plot The Dreamweaver. This time, the PCs might not be so lucky…........
Chaos and Law have reached a comprmise and stopped thier warring. This truce holds as long as the respecitve priests honors the other’s ways for one day of the year. Lawful preists must incite a large decadant celebration or carelessness and the chaotic priests must chaperone the event and keep the party from turning ugly while remaining out of involvement. Thus the warring of the gods has been kept in check for decades and all is well. At least untill the materials for the party come up missing two short weeks before the truce day…
The job of a lifetime. The King’s very own Security Advisor has redesigned the security of the armoury and has chosen the PC’s to give it a test run. If they break in and out, they will win much respect. If they fail, then they simply prove the armoury security is unbreakable. Can’t lose, until after the ‘test’ break-in the armoury really is broken into and the most valuable weapons of the kingdom are now missing…and the PC’s are the prime suspects.
This combines both a blackmail scheme and mistaken identity in a fun way!
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?
After a successful adventure and money in the pocket they decide to splurge and live it up. They site down and order a nice meal and it far surpasses their expectations- until halfway through it the other guests start falling over choking and vomiting.
Two sly-looking men turn up in town accompanied by a third man who says very little and who they don’t allow to be seen much.
The task easier than usual, escort a group of pilgrims from the sleepy town of A to the dwarven forges of B, get the bell and return. But…
Adventurers are hired by a local guild to collect some overdue debts.
The well-known glassmaker and -blower Rinaldo substituted certain components in old recipes with others, cutting the price to a half, without loss of quality. Great business for him, but who will be hurt?
Needed-An ethical character with a long history of promiscuity and/or, preferably, a past love relationship.
She has everything: stunningly good looks, sharp brains and oodles of power: she's going to be a Queen. The only drawback is that she doesn't want to be a Queen.
The players unknowingly awaken an ancient army. Viewable by all, yet unseen by the players, people flee in fear of the marching army of spirits on the path to a major walled city. On arriving at the city the players cannot figure out why the gates are closed, the towers are manned and on the defensive - from them…
They enter a town and see a large crowd surrounding something that cannot quite be figured out. They soon realize that the town has gathered around a woman tied to an old wooden construction that is created to allow her neck to hang over an open a crack in the earth.
The entire city is in an uproar. Two factions proudly identify themselves to each other by wearing red or white scarves or handkerchiefs on their bodies in plain site, or hanging them from their place of business identifying themselves and their belief. Apparently a very respected high priest of the local religion has recently disappeared and so has the entire church coffers leaving it penniless. A city divided on the possible guilt of the missing.
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.
In the dry steppelands, one of their most valuable exports is the dried sap of the Larthorn tree. These ugly plants are covered with vicious thorns, but the locals harvest the golden droplets that ooze from their bark each Autumn. This sap, once dried, is valued for its medicinal properties and as a spice. Since little gold or silver is found in the hinterland, the dried droplets of sap are often used as currency by the locals.