They should have spoken up sooner and saved poor Harold from certain embarrassment.
"Whosoever shall brew ale in the town with intention of selling it must hang out a sign, otherwise he shall forfeit his ale."
King Richard II, 1393
"Hey, Hultz. What are you doing in here?"
"It's gonna move. I don't like it when it moves," the stableboy replied, sitting by the hearth with his arms wrapped around himself.
"What's going to move?"
"The Inn. I don't like it when it moves."
Five minutes later, he gets up and goes back outside.
"What was he talking about?" the newcomer asked a burly fighter.
"Go outside and take a look."
He goes over to the door and flings it wide. "See, it's all still ... Wait! Where did the town go!"
"Welcome to the Brotherhood of the Wild Geese." The fighter comes over with a mug of ale. "Here, you'll probably be needing this. I know I did, when it happened to me."
No shadow may find a home within its walls.
This is a quiet place in the forest of Kaarengard, an Inn where mostly rangers, woodsmen and the occaisonal adventurer spend their evenings, swapping tales of adventure and spreading the latest news.
Tucked back in the corner of Kiskedee square, off of Aasvogel, is the Hornless Goat. The tavern is as non-descript and plain as any business can be and still maintain itself in passable fashion. No one notices the patrons of that small overlooked place.
The hallmark of a new Alliance; a safe place for the men of words to meet.
The Lazy Goat is a wayfarer’s stop, a tavern of sorts out in the dark between cities.
The product of centuries of slow, careful, painstaking work, a testament to the Old Ways and the power of Thaumaturgy, the Cathedral of Light is known of across the whole of Kuramen.
A villain’s lair is more than just a safehouse or stronghold, it can be as much a part of their persona as any powers, henchmen or nefarious plans
A random generator to create variable merchants shops, stores, and stalls.
The most expensive tavern in town boasts the finest of fare, entertainment, and more importantly, decor.
"Look children! Is it the Fun Faire, Extreme Sensations, or Tabs’ Insanity today?"
A college campus for modern day settings, where things are more than they seem at first glance. (Good for a horror or mystery setting)
The establishment is run by an elderly goblin named Sax Stoneswiller. Providing this service to non-goblins is much more lucrative than what he was able to receive with his clan.
While every ship has antigravity engines in this day and age, leaving a full gee planet can take most smaller ships quite a while. The presence of numerous anti-gravity fields can cause interference and fluxation in power broadcast, some comm channels and of course, cause "traffic control issues" as they are flying out. There is a better, safer way to launch them.
Maxwell Cyler, Developer, to the Congessional Areospace Committee
A gigantic, warped edifice, towering over the dark, soot-stained Witherdowns, where human corpses are turned into Deaders.
A quintessential seedy dive, catering to the lowest of the low, but harbouring a few nasty secrets
The cultural nexus of Locastus and the final resting place of its founders
There are scummy dives, and then there is The Rotten Bastard.
These magical boots empower the wearer with several abilities at once. Wondrous leaping, water-walking, and even flying! Yet the boots possess an insidious curse upon them as well. A deep and almost unfathomable (by others) feeling of listlessness, boredom, and even apathy affects the boots' wearer at all times whenever they are donned. Magic will not dispel the effects.
And so while the wearer of the boots can perform great feats of action during combat or at other opportune times and key moments, they'll never really want to do so, complaining "Meh, what's the point of it all anyway?" or "I would fly up and save us all guys, but sigh, maybe uhm, soonish, mkay? Bit bored by this whole burning tower at the moment."
Naturally the boots wearer's fellow PCs will grow quickly frustrated with this arrangement. There have been numerous occasions when one angry PC literally tears off the boots from his companion's feet in anger, and dons them in turn, only to immediately suffer from the same effects.
The solution lies in constantly "motivating" the boots' wearer with successful rolls, involving threats, flattery, fiery speeches, or even bribery.