The relic of an old Sorcerer, the Glyph of Tarnos Krae is a window into the past.
So you’ve finally done it. With the best of intentions all around the table, your PCs have finally blundered into the blender like curious gerbils, and now they are hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned. They are doomed, unless you unleash Secret GM Gambit #4 on them.
"Please, there must be something you can do. Oh if he'd just managed to keep his eyes open, two more minutes would have been enough."
"Remember, lad, nothing on this world remains constant, not even the world itself or anything beyond. The only constants ever are the Fabric and time"
Death is the fate of every birth, and life is only a brief loan of light before the eternal darkness swallows us. The remaining years of life have been stolen from the creatures known as Time Zombies, who stalk the living in the hopes of stealing a few more years of precious life.
A simple metal bucket, capable of holding a bucket of water, or as it happens, a lifetime of effort.
"Attention, Flesh-beings! The time is now Sun-High-point-five, towards dark, 180 Units Past. Curfew in 30 Units. You are welcome."
One of the legendary unholy treasures
Magic is like alcohol, the more that is used, the more it causes a hangover later on and the less judgement one has when using it. If one waits a while after casting a spell, things "detoxify." A cantrip or two is like a sip of weak beer, whilst a large creation spell is like a bottle of vodka. Cast something too big and you can die from magic intoxication.