"Which one? Oh, him. He be Pancratius. Yeah, he's a bit moody, but he's all right when you get to know him. Ya see, back in the day, and by that I mean his day, before you an' I were born, he was a big shot. The gods loved him, and one day, he asked for a gift that turned out to be a curse. Once he figured out the horrible side o' his gift, he sought out an oracle, to figure out how to get rid of it. Ol' Pancratius ne'er did tell me what the oracle said. The gift? Didn't I tell ye? No? It be immortality."
-Old Gerald, man in the pub.
Brief bio of a space intel officer
The BRS Gwynith is an air ship of the Byrlothian Resistance. She is sentient, needing no crew to fly or man her, though she generally has a crew aboard for doing repairs and to go where she cannot.
Nearly every primitive culture has had rituals and celebrations to guarantee the proper passage of the seasons and to ensure the fertility of crops and animals. Oversight of these ceremonies was generally the provenance of local kings or priests.
Suppose that the adventurers dispatch one of these fellows. The local peasants may become hysterical, fearing famine and death will stalk the land. Alternatively, they may want one of the new heroes to become king. For a while, this can be a good thing, but the first time that the crops fail, the superstitious locals will want to sacrifice their new leader.