In the middle of summer a small town is beset by a blizzard that enshrouds it in a blanket of snow. The cause is unknown and all contact with the town is lost. The player characters are hired to investigate the town and put a stop to the blizzard if at all possible.
(An adventure written in the more rigid and hand holding "old school" style and quality level of original fantasy adventure modules from the early to mid 1980's)
‘You are freed from all cares brothers and sisters! All worries! All need to toil and labour for the baron’s taxes, in the guild’s fields and for the peddler’s wares! All the drink you could ever need!’
Final words of an extremely drunk hedge conjurer by name of Oates Greenlock.
An obviously wealthy and beautiful woman contracts the PC’s to solve a missing persons case. The missing person is her younger sibling, a teenage boy.
Lazarus Lightward waits in the town of Lockmour - he desires the Whitebone tomes to study demons and learn their weaknesses. Will the party help him out?
When the barbarian increase their raiding of Tauria, the King of Tauria decides that hiring a couple of lowlife mercenaries (the PCs) is his best option to fix the problem.
"I knew Lwausf would be angry when we banished him, but I didn't see the whole undead-bearman-projectile thing coming. Looking back it was kind of inevitable. "
Prince Gorim, Lord of the Mounatian Hall at Silverspike
side-quest-ish and open-ended to be sure.
"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
100 word Plot
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
"A demonic plant? Don't be daft, go research something useful to society."
"But-but the p-plant! It's evil! It must be destroyed!"
"Now the flowers bloom all year round thanks to the most holy Spirit of Urban flora. It just takes a little blood."
How hard is it to despatch a troublesome swan? A lot harder then you might think.
Food, fun, and a mummy!
A well-meaning mage has banished darkness from the area, not realizing the downsides of this event.
This random-roll chart is designed for those times when a player unexpectedly misses a game session. What is their character doing while everyone else is out on an adventure?
I’m inviting anyone who has a short plot , set in some sort of wilderness, to post it here.
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.)
The food that eats you back.
Creatures of nightmare, the thankfully rare Mesnoi have unique form and attributes. Only one Mesnoi at a time will ever be "encountered".
In appearance, a Mesnoi resembles a walnut-sized chunk of freshly-roasted red meat from some uncertain yet familiar, edible animal. The insidious creature camouflages itself quite appropriately whenever it can, by slowly making its way amidst feast tables and trays of roasted meats.
Once eaten by the unsuspecting, the Mesnoi sinks down to the stomach, reforming if chewed, and begins to lap up the gastric fluids, digestive juices, and bile that it craves, like a sponge.
The Mesnoi carrier will experience mild to severe stomach pains during this time.
After a few hours of this (this is the only time that the Mesnoi can be purged with magic, or other mundane means), the Mesnoi transforms into its true form inside its victim, that of a miniature, once more walnut-sized, pot-bellied, devil-horned, snake-tailed imp. This horrid little creature then begins to chew and eat its way out of the victim from the inside out with its tiny, razor-sharp teeth, like a rat forced to do so via torture.
The victim almost always dies a slow, agonizing death. That much is certain. The devilish imp then exits its victim and begins its seventy two hour existence of mischief and malevolence, until it once more turns back into a hunk of roasted meat with the movement capabilities of a snail.