The blackboard of the middle ages
A brightly colored ink that hardens the skin.
A small, ordinary looking red pouch that deters all but the most skilled thieves.
This thick sauce, usually a condiment on the platters of the rich, has found a niche in the equipment of thieves.
The road has never been more than an overgrown mud track, little travelled and little cared for, petered out to nothing more than a flattened earthen line, barely distinguishable from the rest of the landscape. The soil is dark and fecund and dark oaks stand like sentinels at the forest edge, their branches high and leafy. From them hang grizzly human bones, skulls and shiny precious stones. Who put these strange totems there? Are they warnings? Do the PCs dare to take the stones?