A siren has seduced a noble overboard and gifted him with watery breath. Now his family is preparing to go to war with the mer-people, blaming them for his kidnapping. They mer-people have beseeched the players to explain that the siren isn’t even one of thier people and help rescue the noble from the siren.
Problem is, the noble is now daddy.
In the savage wastes of Daemonland the More, three armies chase each other in a circle for all eternity….
The Queen of Thieves is a mysterious person. All that is know about her is that she’s the greatest living thief in the world. Some even say she doesn’t exist. Oh, she exists all right. And maybe it’s a good thing no one knows about her…
It is said that somewhere in the wilderness, there is a well with miraculous powers. Some said that it bestowed eternal youth. Some said it contained all of the knowledge in the world. There were other rumors. But they remain only rumors, for of all of those that sought the well, only two returned. And they did not return the same…
The Balgrians, a persecuted people, are fed up. They’re rising up and fighting and Midwessel will see bloodshed before it’s over.
Silent voices in the catacombs of hush demand call out to the King in his sleep. He awakes, pale as bone, raving and delusional, whispering of the Retribution of the Charred Skulls. The servants look on horrified at their foaming lord…
A mad necromancer is bent on enslaving the world.
The players are diplomats: ambassadors to a distant, unstable realm. The promise of security that came with King Addarron is suddenly shattered by his assassination. The ambassadors are caught up in the ensuing intrigue-riddled politics…
The Duke Wars have torn apart the kingdom. Now, two dukes battle for supremacy. Will the heroes help the ambitious and noble deSandreaux or the beautiful and brave Christine?
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 magical plauge is disrupting the city of Blue Marina. Victims are found poisioned and covered in weals and, oddly, pennyless. Can the players solve this crisis before rich and poor are destroyed?
Deep within the bowels of the earth, the great structure of reality finds itself at siege.
The Sword has returned from long and ancient exile. Can it’s glory be kept from falling into the wrong hands?
Inspired by Ria Hawk’s “Lifecycle of the Dungeon” discussion.
The PC’s come across a cave system that isn’t on their map. The cave is in plain view and hard to miss. Once inside, several odd and unusual things are found.
To help someone is a good deed. Will you still help, if, well, it is a tribe of Orcs that asks for your help?
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.
Two religeous sects are approching open war after members of each sect are found brutally beaten to death.
A continuation to the plot The Dreamweaver. This time, the PCs might not be so lucky…........
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?
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…
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...'"