Will players provide their help to a man and his ward when it becomes obvious that they are the targets of a group of hired thugs?
Giant firebreathing spiders attack the city!
Downsit, you, you and you! Story tell of Koboldi rise to Island King!
Or, 30 Ways for Mad Science to go Delightfully Awry
The King has an issue about the ale that is extremely popular in his nation...
The story of a castle where time and the sound of piano intertwines
The PCs are sent to rescue the Lady Helen from the pyramid she has been trapped in...but it will not be easy.
A mighty Kraken, the beloved of Big Red, has been infected by a horrible polar parasite, and the PCs have to find a way to cure her before it is too late...
On a planet with no name, a group of lawmen must protect a colony nobody has heard of from the universe’s most effective killers. All the while preserving the safety of both the guilty and the innocent in an effort to make society more about dignity and freedom than profit and force.
In a bar not too far off the road, a man walks in. his boots clattering on the wooden floor. The bar is noticeably empty with only a few guys still around either drinking or chatting. Not too surprising since it is already the evening and they probably went home. The smell of smoke and liquor still hangs in the air like a fly caught in a web. The man in the trench coat pulls himself on a stool near the counter. His face covered by a bandanna and the brim of his hat obscuring the view of his eyes. The bartender, who had been cleaning a beer glass, looks up.
"So what'll it be, stranger?"
The man responds in a gruff and tired voice. "Dark and Stormy."
Trapped in a dream, chained by a net of magic, Deneus Betherim, arch mage of Cormalth bleeds magical essence from his fingers, fueling a rift in the fabric of existence; an essence conduit to the realm of elemental earth.
Earth, sand, mud, rocks and clay travel through the rift, and a mountain is being born beneath the feet of the ensorcelled conjuror.
Deneus is the blood of the mountain, fueling the portal, but who is the mastermind behind it all?
More annoying than fairy fire ever was. And much more deadly.
In the chosen families, the son was always more dangerous than the father.
You’ll never eat in this town again.
- "What about that one?"
- "They say he was a chipper back then. Took over his whole family and many more. And now, now he’s a real zombie."
Fingers snapped before his face, he didn’t notice. He just kept shuffling his cards again, that is all he did. A tear ran down his cheek. He missed the Emotion again.
- "This is train CIV1181, kilometer 15 right after the station. There is a person close to the track on my left side. Could you send somebody to look at it."
- "Understood. Anything suspicious?"
- "He simply lies there. And I think he was there yesterday, too…"
It starts on the horizon, creeping over the land. The storm clouds are huge. They fill the sky. They are moving this way; relentless like the tide, faster than they have a right to. They are dark, so dark to be nearly purple. The rain begins to fall near you. You hear it hit the ground. It hits like bullets. The wind gusts; getting in between a person and their warmth. There is thunder that deafens you. It rolls forth like a stampede. The lightning brings the suns brightness for a moment, before plunging you back into the dark.
"What do you do now?"
These magical boots empower the wearer with several abilities at once. Wondrous leaping, water-walking, and even flying! Yet the boots possess an insidious curse upon them as well. A deep and almost unfathomable (by others) feeling of listlessness, boredom, and even apathy affects the boots' wearer at all times whenever they are donned. Magic will not dispel the effects.
And so while the wearer of the boots can perform great feats of action during combat or at other opportune times and key moments, they'll never really want to do so, complaining "Meh, what's the point of it all anyway?" or "I would fly up and save us all guys, but sigh, maybe uhm, soonish, mkay? Bit bored by this whole burning tower at the moment."
Naturally the boots wearer's fellow PCs will grow quickly frustrated with this arrangement. There have been numerous occasions when one angry PC literally tears off the boots from his companion's feet in anger, and dons them in turn, only to immediately suffer from the same effects.
The solution lies in constantly "motivating" the boots' wearer with successful rolls, involving threats, flattery, fiery speeches, or even bribery.