‘You are freed from all cares brothers and sisters! All worries! All
need to toil and labour for the baron’s taxes, in the guild’s fields and for
the peddler’s wares! All the drink you could ever need!’
Final words of an
extremely drunk hedge conjurer by name of Oates Greenlock.
A goddess with a holy object of veneration in every pocket, wallet and bank; as well as down the sides of the big comfy chair in the inn.
"A demonic plant? Don't be daft, go research something useful to society."
"But-but the p-plant! It's evil! It must be destroyed!"
"Now the flowers bloom all year round thanks to the most holy Spirit of Urban flora. It just takes a little blood."
If you need bait in a hurry and the ogres won't get out of the way, you need the Chum Bucket
Real world scientists have accidentally opened a tear in the fabric of reality, transporting their laboratory into the game world. Unable to repair and/or refuel their equipment in this (to their minds) primitive world they are now trapped.
Ideas ( Plots ) | October 22, 2007 |