A polished flake of porous stone, stained a deep, rusted brown, this once-hallowed knife contains traces of the eldest of magics.
Maddoc sat amid a pile of unrecognizable corpses. Men, Dwarves, Orcs, you couldn't tell. He periodically took a stab at one with his new knife and screamed, "STOP LAUGHING AT ME!"
A desolate region is almost entirely without normal vegetation. Local plants are able to unroot themselves and crawl along the ground in search of water and fertile soil. The inhabitants fence their crops in to keep them from wandering off and put heavy stone thresholds in the doorways of their huts to keep wayward plants out.
The plants sense by chemical cues, lacking sight or hearing, and tend to avoid herbivores or anything that smells of "dead plants". Characters with horses are likely to be unwelcome among the locals.