The PCs see a large oak tree, a curious species of yellow and black butterflies swarm around it. Upon further inspection they find that the tree is hollow and that there is an underground cave in it from which the butterflies appear. Will they inspect this strange cave?
The PCs see a large collection of urns in a pool of swamp water. All the urns are lidded and seem very old, what do they contain?
In the inaccessible plateau of Hor-Nushan, there was always little crime. But in late autumn comes a maddening wind, that can drive the best man crazy, if only for a short time, make him turn on himself or others. For murder, the locals have devised a special punishment: the murderer has to dig a well for the family of his victim. The area is very dry, and having a good well is a source of wealth and prestige. In this way, the murderer atones for his deed and repays the family; perhaps they even find peace.
The massive blade known as Consequences carries several potent enchantments of battle, but also has a frustrating quirk: Its wielder finds himself unable to put it down until he enters the presence of a magistrate or other authority. Even then, it instantly returns to his hands if he has committed murder and fails to confess. Unless he somehow resists the blade's magic, the weilder's hands then run with fresh blood; the judgmental blade fights his every motion until he confesses his crimes.
Little halflings are told that if they don't behave, a demon called Santa Claus from a hell of ice will kidnap them and force them to toil making toys.
Magic is impossible except for a handful of days in the year, when those with the knowledge become hugely powerful.
Fidlin, a gnome wizard with a paission making animals smarter and his Trusty "side-kick" Kat a greatsword weilding badger of uncommon power.
Kat, walks upright with the greatsword slug over his back, and yes he knows he has a girls name.(don't remind him)
AutoMedon – A mechanical poet of renown not for his vast catalog of poetry, but for his complete lack of anything written or spoken, having had no output in his programmed profession. His creator is unknown or at least unaccredited, and there are those in great number in the artistic world who wonder and marvel at his inability to produce poetry, crediting that flaw to his creator who is unknown or at least un-credited. There is also a small faction of scholars who believe that when he finally, finally speaks, it will be the most beautiful or sorrowful verse ever spoke or will ever be spoken. Whether his creator is among either group or dead is unknown. AutoMedon sits alone under a tin roofed enclosure, upon a stone chair, with his gaze off in the distant as if thinking.
“It’s strange to look at this mechanical man and think what thoughts are working through its’ workings or even if the damn thing is” – Aralis of Qurim, poet and pottery salesman
Trying to find a place for this...
"After the famine hit the land, the priest Galen began religious wanderings, drawing his congregation to follow him. Those who took up with him, began to walk, a great outpouring of energy to this religious pilgrimage, coming from an impoverished nation with no true direction other than to find relief. Galen professed to his followers that they would find great resources set by his God down on Earth for them, enough to nourish and slate their thirst. Those that fell as he took them across the barren plains of the western reaches, rose again to join the lines. When finally all had died, Galen led them further, praising Nuh-Erell for that first city they came upon and a feast of flesh that lay in wait"
What to export or import....
Fabric: wool, linnen, silk...
Wood: raw-material, furniture
Metals: iron, gold, silver, copper...
Wine, beer, mead, spirits...
Animals: horses, sheep, swine, cows...
Coloring-powder (for fabric, ink...)
Raw-material to make fabric: unprocessed wool, linnen, silk...
Glass: Windows, figurines, glasses, raw-material...
Tea (not sure about my spelling here, but I mean the hot drink Englishmen drink instead of coffee!)
at a place were magic gathers, for what ever reason, the trees of this place produce fruit that is filled with magic energies . these fruits when eaten cause different effects. much like the potion a wizard makes.
Tämbourine is firmly placed on my back ,to unsheathe this sword I simply have to say "re clouse" meaning come to me or i can just reach over and unsheathe it the old fashioned way. This sword was created to my liking tambourine is made of raw-like metals I found in different regions as I begun to forge the metals together, I’ve noticed that the raw metal materials were different pieces to a wide variety of swords that were used the past and present, being so most blades have a sheer grey texture Tambourine’s blade became black as the depths of the oceans. The blade expands to 6” which weighs 426lbs the sapphire jewel placed on the tip of hilt (upper middle center of the base) it emits a aura texture of purple which weighs 24lbs the jewel is un-breakable it negates magic for tambourine has a mind of its own only belonging to me it finds a worthy opponents who doesn’t use magic or any type of power to their liking which I can agree with(who would want an opponent that abuses their powers to kill for no reason or to avoid dying by honor tambourine fights with honor and accepts its glory or defeat) I’ve named the sapphire Sophia because not only that its rare and radiant it resembles my burning passion for my love Sophia. I made the hilt to be a length of 15 inches its frame is created with fine katchin (very thick and heavy metal) it alone weighs 50 pounds its texture is black like mixture of, I made it to be a cruciform hilt so it has room for two hands. I I made the blades hilt aprox. 2”, the blade is double-edged but the left side of the swords frame can block and or negate ones attack if needed, it weights 500lbs making it nearly unmovable. To go up against this sword is to quickly find your own death. Tambourine is a twin sword to Terra.
Meta energy...lent by lunos of the seven skys, father of the dragongods, has the power to alter events, rippling through time and space, no other form of energy is stronger, with the ability to even destory planets.It rips apart sheilds by going back in time before they were brought up. No weapon can withstand the force of such It is a power usable only by families bloodline, and those we have chosen to gift with miniscule amounts of its power. It not being of this plane, isn't even subjective to the so called "gods" here. Different worlds, different levels of power.
It is a power of change and manipulation, essentially leaving us to create with it what we will, if our mind is strong enough to do so.
Large amounts of this inserted into any one being/energy will cause them to implode, ripping themselves apart and sucked into another dimension entirely.
The limitations of meta are only set by ones mind, an open mind has no limits to the powers of meta.
What happens when, while in the middle of an important fight/Event, the mage that enchanted all your gear suddenly dies? Unless the enchantments outlive their source, you might not either.
A man is taken in for a crime years ago. Any who ask or willing to listen, he tells a tale of how he ended up in such a position. So far fetched is the story that many believe it to be false. Perhaps the adventurer who came to town would like to listen to the man's tale?
Often times in when alchemy is thought of, we think medieval times with wizards and sorcerers. What if such things existed in modern days such as today? What if the focus of alchemy is common knowledge is can be used for favorite drinks? What if you have a soda machine that can create soda with special properties? The varieties is endless, though good taste is limited. What kind of concoctions can you create?
A magical stave with two distinct uses. One end is a healing stick, which can heal some quite serious diseases, the other half can be used to inflict those diseases on other people.
To Dougles Nye money is power, a powerful wizard only newly into lich-hood
Originally the son of servants to a noble family, yet he found that life humiliating. "How could anyone stand to serve another?" he often wondered. His father, was a greedy man who offered an explanation one day “It’s all for the coin, every demanding, humiliating thing. It’s for the coin, boy."
So when Dougles began developing the potential for magic, he found a way out of a life of servitude. Learning magic though stolen books, he made his escape. Taking the all the possessions of the lord’s vaults with him. He set out to gain as much money as possible.
His gifts for magic allowed him many advantages other merchants could only dream of. Capitalized on the use of deviation magic, allowing him to always having what the city he is in needs most, whether that is wheat or weapons, poison or drug doesn’t matter to him.
Some would say he follows war, disease, famine, and political strife like a vulture looking for a nice carcass to claim. What they don’t know is he has a hand in the conflict he supposedly follows. Assassinating ruler to incite wars, casting spells that decimating crops, acting as an information broker to both sides in a conflict. Dougles is known as a man who can get what you need to some, to other a monster who capitalizes on the suffering of others.
The lich know as Dougles Nye, prefers the title ”The Merchant of Death” for that shows just how much power money has earned him.
A typical wand with offensive capabilities (magic missiles, fire, fireball, lightning bolt) that was either damaged in combat or made just under par. When the wand is discharged, there is a 1 in 4 chance that it fires an additional 1d6 charges simultaneously or in rapid succession. Wands that shoot fire may incinerate innocents and friendlies, or burn whole buildings and even villages down. Those which shoot fireballs have a considerable radius, and lightning bolts that bounce upon contact with ground and stone can cause catastrophic random collateral damage. Those who have paid large sums for such a device may go seeking a refund, possibly even retribution.
Bag on a Stick
Very simple gag but a great one, since it can be used multiple times over, even in the same adventure. Great for tribal natives gone restless and humanoids, but anyone can have set this up. Just what the header says, a simple bag over a stick stuck in the ground or floor.
As GM you can place the bag on a stick anywhere, in a floor crack the heroes have passed before, outdoors in a clearing or path, or at the edge of the PCs' encampment the following morning, what have you. Place anything on the stick - a coiled yellow viper angered by the bag removal, mini crossbow w/poison, transdermal hallucinatory drug dusted on the bag, yellow mold colony, an NPC ally's head, a weapon, scroll tube or satchel, what have you.
The idea is to build tension and/or stall for time/distract the party. Provided it's used properly, you'll be amazed at how paranoid players will get from this simple gag.
People that live in cities no longer have any contact with the gods. There was a pact between the gods, humans, and animals. We could talk to the gods and the trees were the witness' to the pact. When the trees started getting cut down to make cities the pact was broken by the destruction of the witness'. So now only those that live with nature can speak to the gods and/or animals. Some trees grow tall creating darkness that scares men and they are not able to go near them. If they could they could again speak to the gods.