Behind every great man is an astonished woman. Or the woman who did it for him.
Man, machine, ghost, myth, legend, hero, and villain. No one is really sure who, or even what the Iron Ghost is.
First, you get the gold. Then you get the power. I could care about the women, I’ve had the men in the palm of my hand since I was 17.
Memoirs of Wealth, excerpt
“A pox on him, stealing all of our peasants!”
quote attributed to many neighboring lords
The PCs have travelled long and far. As nightfall approaches a mighty storm is unleashed. Luckily there is a lush wood nearby the path.
A good shelter for the rage of the unnamed weather gods it seams at first. As the PCs enter under the roof of this dense wood, they are welcomed by only a few drops wich is allowed trough the thick forest crown. A fire is offcourse required to warm the weary bones of the travellers. As one of the party is set to the task of collecting firewood the others settle down at a suitable location. But alas, they did not know the perils of this forest. But it seems clear to the rest of the party that something ill is at work as the woodcutters scream echo from afar.