Deep within the bowels of the earth, the great structure of reality finds itself at siege.
If you helped the Grazuul Tribe, others require similar help. The reward is bigger, as the risks.
The Sword has returned from long and ancient exile. Can it’s glory be kept from falling into the wrong hands?
Inspired by Ria Hawk’s “Lifecycle of the Dungeon” discussion.
The PC’s come across a cave system that isn’t on their map. The cave is in plain view and hard to miss. Once inside, several odd and unusual things are found.
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.
To help someone is a good deed. Will you still help, if, well, it is a tribe of Orcs that asks for your help?
A village is being terrorized by a demon. Daerun, the Dragon-lord that claims this territroy, has decreed that before he will help any cause, he must have a gift to show that the cause needs his intervention. Now you must go and kill/capture some of the demons underlings to present to Daerun or the village is doomed.
Two religeous sects are approching open war after members of each sect are found brutally beaten to death.
A continuation to the plot The Dreamweaver. This time, the PCs might not be so lucky…........
(Recommended avg. Hero lvl: 10-13)The heros find that either a peasant went insane and killed the mayor/king/other high ranking official and says that the “Man in his dreams” made him do it, or, simply the high-ranking official died in his sleep for no apparent reason.
The village’s spiritual leader is fevered and babbling about ghosts. Is what’s plauging him an assault from beyond the grave, or of a more earthly source?
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.
The two great continents of the world are bitterly at war and they have been busy creating the ultimate weapon. But the Chromatic Council of Colour Dragons are aware…
This combines both a blackmail scheme and mistaken identity in a fun way!
Another dirty job, this time heavily guarded weapon works have to be stopped.
A double life as a city guard and a master assassin may prove the most difficult of all when a PC is asked to solve a murder he committed.
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.
Starts like a regular investigate/slay/recive reward adventure, but with a macabre twist in the end that should get your players thinking… a low level adventure
Based on a true story. The players seek refuge from a storm in a village inn, but are they safe from the elements that they were fleeing?
The city of Nausopol is built on stilts. Lots of very sturdy stilts and butresses, of course, because it rises about five hundred feet from the ocean. Even the most terrific of storms is only heard in the city as a distant cacophony of blasts as waves strike the solid stonework fathoms below. It has never been attacked because of its isolation and impregnability.
It's not a place for the faint-hearted: vertigo and sea-sickness are not desirable traits. But when you are standing in the middle of the city there is no way you could tell that you were standing above an ocean, separated only by a gulf of air and a few stones.
A thousand steps lead down from Nausopol to the floating docks. These docks are pitch-coated wooden and can be raised by winches during squalls. Trade with other cities and countries is good: Nausopol is built over a sunken atoll whose minerals are still mined by divers, and it was from this that it originally derived its wealth.
But the principal method of getting to and from the city is by riding the giant sea-eagles which have been captured and bred for that very reason.