Orcs record their deeds through symbolic mutilation, scarring and tattoo. Perhaps creating the medium of skin as art, which humans followed later. Perhaps tattoos remind the elves of orcs and make them angry...
Orcish currency is derived from glass beads. The art of glassworking is well beyond them, but perhaps the orcs have something of value to the civilized races, such as animal pelts, and well made axes, and bows. The humans trade beads for the goods, and the orcs will trade the beads amongst themselves as a form of their own currency. Perhaps they value blood red beads above all others, or animistic orcs favor beads in the colors of their gods.
Inspired by Indian trade beads, some of which could be quite ornate and beautiful. Most North American Indian beads were made in Italy. Surprise!
A wand that can be used once a day to stop Time for thirty seconds.Enough time to take a weapon or a wizard's staff, dodge a fireball,get a head start whilst running away,ect.
The PCs are invited to play in lumberjack games. They must see how quickly they can cut down a tree, how quickly they can use a great saw to cut a wheel from an already dropped tree, and must stay on top of a floating log while a lumberjack tries to roll the log to make them fall in the water. The winner gets beer and pancakes
The Red Lipstick - almost blood dark, this lipstick changes to become the perfect shade of red for the woman, and only woman, wearing it. She will attract positive attention from men, and will be the subject of female envy, for who else has such perfectly red lips?
A Magical Hat that has only enough magic to stay on its wearers head, in spite of wind, falling, or even being turned upside down. The owner, never having to pick up his hat gains an extra swagger to his step, and a small boost to charisma.
A pair of ladies lace gloves, that once donned, give the wearer a quick, and very tidy manicure. Nails are properly trimmed, sanded, and come out with either 'French' (insert game name) style nails, or their nails colored in the manner desired by the wearer. Useful for removing hangnails, and other cosmetic problems
What if potions and tonics had negative side effects? Potions of increased strength cause violent tempers, or damage joints. What if potions of dexterity caused tremors, or palsy?
What if they were addictive, and had withdrawal symptoms?
Could someone make a bad batch? No one use the brown strength potion!
Tarot Cards are used by Magic folks to predict the future (cartomancy). Since the present becomes the future through the interplay of elementally alligned forces, the tumble of cards can give clues to the way the pattern of elements will be in the future.
This means a wizard will have a deck of cards with them. Since cards were used to train wizards in legerdemain, Since they have cards with them, they frequently know how to use them. Guild magic users often have a knack for fancy shuffles, palming cards, and a variety of card tricks and games.
Mages/ wizards and such use cards (playing cards or tarot cards) as training tools. The patterns created by certain layouts of cards are mnemonic devices to teach key elemental associations and paths. With such interesting names as the Tree of Life, Phoenix's tail, Rythm of Heart, and Balance of the sphere, there pattern represent the matrices used by magic users to focus and present power. Spell processes can be represented by a sequence of cards.
So mages will often be seen handing around hands of cards.
Wizards will have a deck of cards with them. Since cards were used to train wizards in legerdemain, Since they have cards with them, they frequently know how to use them. Guild magic users often have a knack for fancy shuffles, palming cards, and a variety of card tricks and games.
A simple flag, faded by time and sun, tattered and worn by untold years flying from the pole of a bannerman, passing hands from officer to officer, from one generation to another. It is a humble symbol of great importance, and greater inspiration to those who see it. Soldiers become heros filled with espirit de corps, enemies loose their nerve and fire. It is not an enchanted item, but a powerful item still...
The PCs have travelled long and far. As nightfall approaches a mighty storm is unleashed. Luckily there is a lush wood nearby the path.
A good shelter for the rage of the unnamed weather gods it seams at first. As the PCs enter under the roof of this dense wood, they are welcomed by only a few drops wich is allowed trough the thick forest crown. A fire is offcourse required to warm the weary bones of the travellers. As one of the party is set to the task of collecting firewood the others settle down at a suitable location. But alas, they did not know the perils of this forest. But it seems clear to the rest of the party that something ill is at work as the woodcutters scream echo from afar.
Imagine a tribe of nomads where all the males have the blessing of being were-stallions. The tribe would not need to have ordinary horses to move around, all mounted warriors would be female and a curious custom could be that when a couple gets married, the girl rides her chosen to the altar.
There is a certain kind of silver-coloured spider who's bite injects an addictive drug into the person that creates a sense of euphoria. Once bitten the PC has a 50% chance of being addicted to the spider's bite and will carry it around with him or her.Long term use leads to serious injury or death.At first the PC will just seem a bit slower or sleepier then normal.
Within a kingdom the prince or princess has died or been killed and the Queen has been driven half-insane with grief.What if one of the PC's was mistaken for the dead prince or princess and not allowed to leave? There would be advantages in accepting the role, but would it be worth it?
A character who is undergoing changes of personality (like buying off mental disadvantages - flaws - or changing alignment) might confront personifications of aspects of his personality in dreams: a griffon representing the courage he needs to face a terrible foe, or a satyr standing for the lecherousness a warrior must overcome to be admitted to an order of knights who must uphold vows of chastity.
If mana recovered slowly enough, and mages could pass it on freely between them, the ephemeral force would become a valuable trading commodity on its own.
What if a mage passes his powers on to his firstborn son, and a female mage to her first daughter, leaving the parent POWERLESS? A plain mortal, a sorcerer no longer, all wizardly might gone?
Or: what if a female wizard recieves the power of a mage who sires a child with her? Could lead to promiscuous witches and overly careful mages.
What if cancer is not an ailment if one has a will powerful enough, and knows what do do. What if one using the right techniques could control it and use it to become immortal, or to grow into something else?
Pick up a pathology/microbiology book, and add the diseases/syndroms to your game. Your players will freak out.
Coughed at? Diphteria. or tuberculosis?
Drunk from a muddy stream? Or just walked through? Well, let us introduce you to schistosomiasis...
Hit by a stream of energy? Too moch mana is ust like too much radioactivity - perhaps all mages could develop cancer early if too powerful...
Wytchwolde-Under-Ash, once a great Thorpe, was razed to the ground by the ruthless, and truth told more than slightly deranged, Porcelain Princess and her henchmen, the Purifiers. When the flames had at last subsided, and a kaleidoscope of swirling, dull-gray ash choked the sky, nine hundred acres of old growth iron spruce, black larch and weeping birch, was burned to utter cinders, along with the entire coven of witches comprising the Sisterhood of the Silver Teat.
Now, centuries later, the forests are somewhat re-grown, and the town of Foolswater stands where Wytchwolde-Under-Ash once did. It is said that even to this day, one can still find ashes in the otherwise potable well-water of this village. Once a year during the Winter Solstice, the “Ash-Wind” comes to Foolswater, a suffocating black cloud that passes quickly but leaves dead birds and animals in its wake, darkening the trees, and staining the sky with black snow. The inhabitants of the village know better than to be caught outside during the day-long Ash-Wind. Everyone is locked snugly inside, singing old hymns that curse and re-curse the burned witches who once called this place home.