“ The village sits on the edge of the deep fjord, often engulfed in mist or rain. Its people are fishermen, who work even through the sea-ravaging winter. And they pray to the gods of the deep.
At the beginning of every winter they hold a summoning ceremony. Three boats are taken out into the fjord, a hornsman on each. The mournful horns are blown in the language of the whales, the gods of the deep. The whales sometimes appear in answer to these calls, and it is taken as a good omen when they do.
To a party of PCs wandering the misty hills and valleys nearby however, the doleful whalesong of the horns can be disturbing and misinterpreted...”
“ The Mad Pope is a wandering mercenary. He is very well deranged as he considers himself to be the pontiff of the dominant faith. His robes are tattered, his mitre has seen better days and there are surely lice in his long ratty beard. What sets him apart from most addle-pated would be holy men is that he has armor under his robes and carries a large crossbow and several one-handed swords. While many would discout him as just another lunatic, for some reason, he inspires others around him and has demonstrated the ability to lay on hands and heal the wounded.”
“ As they travel they notice a horrible rotten smell. As they travel it gets stronger and stronger forcing them to cover their noses and mouth less they choke on the horrible smell.A small goblin tribe preparing a wedding feast. The wedding is between two tribes as a gesture for peace, if the PC's intefere, feirce fighting could break out.”
