In the middle of summer a small town is beset by a blizzard that enshrouds it in a blanket of snow. The cause is unknown and all contact with the town is lost. The player characters are hired to investigate the town and put a stop to the blizzard if at all possible.
(An adventure written in the more rigid and hand holding "old school" style and quality level of original fantasy adventure modules from the early to mid 1980's)
"I knew Lwausf would be angry when we banished him, but I didn't see the whole undead-bearman-projectile thing coming. Looking back it was kind of inevitable. "
Prince Gorim, Lord of the Mounatian Hall at Silverspike
100 word Plot
Each new home prides itself on its idol and as each new home receives its idol, the power within them grows, glows and connects. ...They are the bringers of wonderment and gifts but little do the townsfolk know, for the Shithiran are the takers of everything.
The Lord has a new girlfriend, and nobody is happy about it.
A huge castle whose foundations are crumbling…A murderer on the run in the caverns below.
Revolution is upon them. Like a worm-riddled timber the Kingdom is rife with discontent, and the aristocrats are being evicted, their castles burnt and ruined. For those who escape, life looks bleak…
A mighty force is building in the East, and all of Strolen’s Citadel must band together if we are to have any hope of defeating it.
Idea from the Aeneid. Could make an intriguing encounter when searching for firewood..."Quite near there happened to be a mound of earth, at the highest part of which were growing thickets of cornel and a dense cluster of spiky myrtle-stems. I went up there and tried to wrench the green growth from the ground to provide a leafy covering for our altar. There I was confronted by a horrible and astounding miracle. For from the first bush which I tried to break off...blood oozed in dark drops, fouling the earth with its spots...A piteous moan came from the base of the mound and I heard a human voice answering me: 'Why, Aeneas, must you rend a poor sufferer? I am buried here...for I am Polydorus. Here death overpowered me in a crop of piercing iron-pointed spears. And so a crop resembling javelins has grown over me...'"