This is the first overview of two or three campaigns I call, Lords of the Fallen. Within this first installment the players will take part in the forging of the first Kingdoms of Earthen. They will witness the beginnings of slavery; join the ranks of the world’s first armies; be jolted by the anger of the Almighty Lord.
This is the time when the first legends are born. A Character could, perhaps, even become one themselves. The classes of magicians and warriors are very basic and limited. Socities, being in their infancy, are being created, and influenced, by them (intentionally, or accidentally). Life is hard, but endurable.
From this I will expand these ideas into quests, and races that dwell within this campaign. I will try to leave these overviews and quests as generic as possible, but with historical suggestions.
We are not mere assassins, we are Gods will.
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.