The Balgrians, a persecuted people, are fed up. They’re rising up and fighting and Midwessel will see bloodshed before it’s over.
The city of Yoralaruk knows how to keep it’s secrets, and it has many to hide. It is up to the heroes to discover what the truth behind it’s darkest secret.
A continuation to the plot The Dreamweaver. This time, the PCs might not be so lucky…........
Chaos and Law have reached a comprmise and stopped thier warring. This truce holds as long as the respecitve priests honors the other’s ways for one day of the year. Lawful preists must incite a large decadant celebration or carelessness and the chaotic priests must chaperone the event and keep the party from turning ugly while remaining out of involvement. Thus the warring of the gods has been kept in check for decades and all is well. At least untill the materials for the party come up missing two short weeks before the truce day…
The job of a lifetime. The King’s very own Security Advisor has redesigned the security of the armoury and has chosen the PC’s to give it a test run. If they break in and out, they will win much respect. If they fail, then they simply prove the armoury security is unbreakable. Can’t lose, until after the ‘test’ break-in the armoury really is broken into and the most valuable weapons of the kingdom are now missing…and the PC’s are the prime suspects.
This combines both a blackmail scheme and mistaken identity in a fun way!
Two sly-looking men turn up in town accompanied by a third man who says very little and who they don’t allow to be seen much.
The task easier than usual, escort a group of pilgrims from the sleepy town of A to the dwarven forges of B, get the bell and return. But…
The well-known glassmaker and -blower Rinaldo substituted certain components in old recipes with others, cutting the price to a half, without loss of quality. Great business for him, but who will be hurt?
She has everything: stunningly good looks, sharp brains and oodles of power: she's going to be a Queen. The only drawback is that she doesn't want to be a Queen.
The players unknowingly awaken an ancient army. Viewable by all, yet unseen by the players, people flee in fear of the marching army of spirits on the path to a major walled city. On arriving at the city the players cannot figure out why the gates are closed, the towers are manned and on the defensive - from them…
The entire city is in an uproar. Two factions proudly identify themselves to each other by wearing red or white scarves or handkerchiefs on their bodies in plain site, or hanging them from their place of business identifying themselves and their belief. Apparently a very respected high priest of the local religion has recently disappeared and so has the entire church coffers leaving it penniless. A city divided on the possible guilt of the missing.
Finally got the idea for an orcish currency:
A cold-hammered piece of raw iron, resembling some kind of a dagger. The Dagger is easy to carry, hard to forge, may be used as a crude weapon in case of emergency AND the iron being a valuable resource... may be used directly for weapon-making. May be carried openly on the belt of a mighty Orc. A new insult: 'to beat someone with someones money' . Self-explanatory.