Suffering from an ancient curse, the Medusan race is slowly dying.
They consumed Great G’bod. They partook of the Giant Slug’s flesh.
A social group of women who meet for purposes of ‘knitting’ and sharing gossip.
The Sisters may be found anywhere from street corners, where they offer to tell ones future for a few pennies, to those who appear to be working for the service of a lord. It is said that they go where they will, when they will they work for who they choose, not for who chooses them.
Come ye who HUNGER!
A young girl with a dirty face and tattered dress stands near the town market offering to sell the PCs freshly cut flowers. They are only a single copper a piece, and smell nice. Perhaps the PCs will be generous with their wealth, or they will not. Great for paranoid parties.