An obviously wealthy and beautiful woman contracts the PC’s to solve a missing persons case. The missing person is her younger sibling, a teenage boy.
Lazarus Lightward waits in the town of Lockmour - he desires the Whitebone tomes to study demons and learn their weaknesses. Will the party help him out?
When the barbarian increase their raiding of Tauria, the King of Tauria decides that hiring a couple of lowlife mercenaries (the PCs) is his best option to fix the problem.
Zig, zig, zig, Death in a cadence,
Striking with his heel a tomb,
Death at midnight plays a dance-tune,
Zig, zig, zig, on his violin.
"I never want to hear another fiddle for as long as I live!" -Corwin Silvernail
How hard is it to despatch a troublesome swan? A lot harder then you might think.
Two local merchants were found dead last night, both seemingly poisoned. Everebody is clueless as to what happened. Will the Heroes uncover the truth?
“Please sirs, my grandmother lives just beyond the forest”
Missions for any campaign in any city of any realm. As long as crime exists, you will be able to use this submission.
The Empire is growing and demanding more resources. The PCs are hired by local authorities to draw up a map of the nearby mines abandoned by dwarves about two centuries ago.
The nobleman’s daughter must be escorted from place to place, but her addiction may make the journey far harder than it need be..,
When an old map is found in a floating bottle by a fishing ship, and is sent to a mage for solving what the ancient symbols on it mean, the old piece of paper becomes more than a map.
When Cortez captured the Aztec leader, Moctezuma, he and his conquistadores demanded a room full of gold as ransom. The soldiers of Gkar’tell wants quite a bit more in return for the leader of the Lizardfolk…
An icky sideline plot to a forest adventure.
A small group of cannibals has started roaming farther out from their remote home and have come into contact with some farms.
Wytchwolde-Under-Ash, once a great Thorpe, was razed to the ground by the ruthless, and truth told more than slightly deranged, Porcelain Princess and her henchmen, the Purifiers. When the flames had at last subsided, and a kaleidoscope of swirling, dull-gray ash choked the sky, nine hundred acres of old growth iron spruce, black larch and weeping birch, was burned to utter cinders, along with the entire coven of witches comprising the Sisterhood of the Silver Teat.
Now, centuries later, the forests are somewhat re-grown, and the town of Foolswater stands where Wytchwolde-Under-Ash once did. It is said that even to this day, one can still find ashes in the otherwise potable well-water of this village. Once a year during the Winter Solstice, the “Ash-Wind” comes to Foolswater, a suffocating black cloud that passes quickly but leaves dead birds and animals in its wake, darkening the trees, and staining the sky with black snow. The inhabitants of the village know better than to be caught outside during the day-long Ash-Wind. Everyone is locked snugly inside, singing old hymns that curse and re-curse the burned witches who once called this place home.