The Road… traverses Time—Time past, Time to come, Time that could have been, and Time that might yet be. Some people have the ability to access the Road and travel it from Time to Time and world to world.
An innocent square of delicate material - barely larger than a handkerchief in size. However, those who’s skin come into contact with this cloth, may find themselves wishing they never handled it.
The PC’s find themselves thrust into a whole new world during what they had thought would be a boring trek through the plains…
Treachery, murder, magic and an army of the dead, all in one rather confusing escapade.
The nutritious fruit of this plant is not unlike a star fruit, with fleshy spindles sticking out in all directions. The leaves, on the other hand, are highly dangerous and have driven many a hungry traveller mad!
Bumbling young wizard, who could link the PC’s to an ancient and reknowned guild…
A once noble man, he was tossed aside and tortured. He is an empty shell of what use to be Human.
These items, potent wards against spirits, were once commonplace. Following the end of the old Empire the methods of their manufacture was lost and none new have been made in the intervening centuries.
A result of the experiments of the world’s first bioengineer, as manifested by a needle and thread and a whole lot of blotting paper.
A wonderer, a warrior. He is both cursed and blessed, he is feared and loved, but always misundestood.
A strong fighter, but an exellent assassin. He is the son of the Bandit Lord, and is the rightful heir to his title.
“Return to me,” she said, and as he died, he said: “I shall return”.
And though the years flew like sparrows from disturbed nest, he did return, year after year…
A reflective sheild, when a weapon intended to harm the wearer of the sheild is seen in its reflection, the weapon will instantly turn to dust.
An ancient sword, corroded yet sharp, which heightens all the worst qualities of its bearer (eg bloodlust, greed, no care for others). [Edited for more detail.]
A small and horrible bundle of needles and dyes with a truly sickening history and unpleasant side effects.
Specially treated troll flesh dried in strips like jerky which heals in small doses.
Thousands of orcs chant in unison as their champion and chieftan raises the black iron morningstar, they chant for the hammer of the underworld, the unbeatable weapon of orcdom.
A small trinket, unseen for centuries. It could be found anywhere: Perhaps lying with another cache of coins in an abandoned monestary. Perhaps behind a glass casing of a coin collectors display. But those who know what this coin represents may be inclined to flip it during times of oppression. Doing so may become their salvation, or the instrument of their demise. So toss the coin if there is nothing to lose, and see if you have The Devils Luck.
A thousand years ago,the Red and the White mages almost exterminated each other in a magical war so great, that the very mountians were turned into quartz.Centuries passed and the magic died away enougth for humans to visit the area and remain in human form. And a city of quartz was built upon the site, which is the most magical city in the whole world…
A man with three identities. He sells the services of thieves and assassins, and he’s not above doing some of the work himself.
THE GNOMES OF UDNALOR: Part II
Having left the hush of the upper halls, and crossed the depths of the Braeth (an underground river, which is not all that deep because bear in mind we're talking about gnomes here), you would find yourself in Wattling Street, the main road through Udnalor. It's actually a long, well-worn passageway which opens out eventually into the City Centre. The gnome-buildings branch off Wattling Street as small burrows or caverns with boulder-blocked doorways for privacy. You can find armourers and smiths (though their armour tends to be on the small side for humans to buy) and many other types of trader.
There are many streets, ginnels and cooies which run off Wattling Street, the most famous probably being Smell Street, the domain of the infamous gnomish alchemists, the eponymous smell being very distinctive: the stench of cooking fungus, the aroma of subterranean spices, the pungent reek of rotting carcasses (used in some of the more notorious experiments). An encounter with an alchemist can really be spiced up (excuse the pun) if you have a well-stocked herb cupboard, and actually make up the potions, elixirs and draughts as they are ordered by characters.