Submissions that I find possibly relevant to The Kingmakers campaign
"Whosoever shall brew ale in the town with intention of selling it must hang out a sign, otherwise he shall forfeit his ale."
King Richard II, 1393
Because, after a while, even the oldest adventurer will need a place to settle as he grows tired.
The City of Bells, home of Bornegault’s Tongue.
The city has a thousand stories - and here are a few of them..
This alchemy shop has two faces - its above ground establishment which serves the general public with the typical love potions, cure-alls and whatnote, and a ‘secret’ below-ground operation which is where the real action is…
"Bristlebane ale. Tall."
Mathus looked up. He didn't recognize the man ordering, but he seemed the type: muscles beneath a layer of fat, a snarling expression with most of his teeth missing, fists like summer hams. "You want it in a bottle?"
"From the tap."
Mathus nodded. "This way," he said, stepping from behind the bar and into the back room, the "customer" following.
A fresh-faced young man sitting at the bar looked around, confused. "Bristlebane? Sounds adventurous."
"You couldn't handle it, son," an older man said from across the plank bar with a hint of derision. "It'd right kick your ass."
Each town has a House of the King. This is the main one, and by far the largest, set in the heart of the capitol's temple district.
The Tired Traveler’s Tavern Guide (new with alliteration) is the beginning of a compilation of taverns and tavern resources for travelers of all realms, should as they need a place to rest or munch. Whether you need a fully-fledged tavern with history and a table map, or just a name to get you started, this should get you off on the right foot.
Cold Comfort is a long-sword of star-steel, its blade giving off a wan, blueish light. Its grip is wrapped tightly in snow-serpent hide, and its pommel bears a single opalescent gemstone.
This blade is enchanted in such a way, that whoever wields it, begins to fall completely and irrevocably "in love" with the weapon. This love does not manifest itself as the expected reverence and bond formed between any warrior and his weapon, but as a deeper, truer love, one has for a soul-mate of the same species! The longer the wielder carries Cold Comfort the stronger and more disturbing this love becomes, and only the most powerful of magicks can potentially break the sword's insidious spell. The blade's owner will even speak to and coo to the weapon, convinced that the sword understands and returns this epic love.
If the blade's wielder somehow loses the weapon or has it taken away, they will become inconsolable, and will predictably go to "ends of the earth and back" to retrieve it at any cost. Such is the weapon's curse that even separation from it does not damper the feelings the owner has for the sword. Legends tell of several distraught and mind-addled knights who even years after losing the blade, still wander the country-side searching for their lost love. And woe be to the "new lover" if and when they find him or her.