The lost story of the pommel stones.
The story of a castle where time and the sound of piano intertwines
More annoying than fairy fire ever was. And much more deadly.
A second chance
The large blades slowly rotate, feeding on the wind, you have seen the image before. But could these be feeding on something more?
The Great Bell has been rung, and the Tribe of Talna has been summoned. Now someone must discover why random people are suddenly traveling towards an isolated range of mountains.
A wrong turn in an other wise well meaning curse leaves the PC’s in a tight spot…
According to Ars Geotia the standard formations of power consist of ley lines, confluences and founts. this system has been long accepted, and is quite incorrect…
The Seer of Ceylon has had an ominous vision. A warrior clad all in black armor, a horde of demons at his back, and a woman equally vile at his side shall assault Ceylon in the coming weeks. Ceylon shall fall, and burn, and a darkness such as man has never known shall fall upon the world. To prevent this, he has called the PCs forth, and ordered them to slay the man in his vision…
The PCs traveling through the mountain end up in the the small village of Bitterfruit, this tiny village is the epitome of paradise, but even paradise has its secrets.
A village is being terrorized by a demon. Daerun, the Dragon-lord that claims this territroy, has decreed that before he will help any cause, he must have a gift to show that the cause needs his intervention. Now you must go and kill/capture some of the demons underlings to present to Daerun or the village is doomed.
The village’s spiritual leader is fevered and babbling about ghosts. Is what’s plauging him an assault from beyond the grave, or of a more earthly source?
Sages and naturalists frown at the common name given to these strange creatures by the small folk, but sometimes the silliest nicknames for creatures, places and people persevere in the minds of many. “Purifiers”, “Pond Jellies”, “Breath-Stealers”, “Lung-Ticklers” and “River Butterflies” are much less commonly heard appellations for these life forms. Wet Faeries are basically (and simply) a species of fist-sized, fresh-water jellyfish. Several traits steer them toward the peculiar category however. Firstly, Wet Faeries are nearly invisible in the water, much like their marine cousins but even more so. One can swim in a river swarming with these critters and not even notice their presence. Secondly, they possess the unique ability to clean and purify whatever body of water they inhabit. They do this via some sort of biological filtration process, sucking in all toxins present in the water, and releasing it back in its purest form. Needless to say, they are both a blessing and a curse to whichever folk dwell beside the rivers and lakes Wet Faeries inhabit. On one hand, no purer water can be found anywhere than a Wet Faerie lake or pond, and yet, in “pure” water “life” tends in fact to die out, lacking the needed nutrients to prosper. Thirdly, their “sting” is (unfortunately) virulently poisonous to all mammalians. Wet Faeries are loathe to sting anyone or anything, using their barbed fronds as a last line of defense, but if stung, most swimmers will suffer respiratory arrest, and die within minutes, usually drowning before they can make it back to shore.
Alchemists, druids, and less savory characters have studied these creatures over the years, and have predictably found all the ways Wet Faeries could be exploited. Morbidly humorous, some bards find it, that the Poisoners and Assassins Guilds as well as the Healer’s Union, all prize these creatures. The assassins use the extracted venom in obvious fashion, while the priests and healers use the still-living jelly-fish to sterilize other poison potions and to cure those already poisoned on death’s door.
It is known that a certain Earl Von Trumble keeps his vast castle moat stocked with Wet Faeries, the waters so clear that every bone of every one of his past enemies can be clearly seen on the bottom, twenty two feet below.