“ It seemed like a great place to camp. The clearing was good sized and sheltered from the wind. The brook just a few feet away. There is a natural hallow to keep the horses.
Then the night came.
It was like it became a different place. The temperature dropped. The wind, which does not seem to disturb cloth, almost cuts through you like an arctic wind. No one can sleep, as the soft ground has turned hard. The horses are uneasy. The Bats are flying over and stopping in the trees.
And then there is the eyes. There are glowing eyes just inside the tree line watching your group. The mages and clerics can detect nothing, but there is still something there.
(yet there is nothing at all... The Darkness will do nothing unless the players do something to it. And even then it will all seem to be a conincidence.)
Of course, in the morning, it all becomes sweet and light.”
“ Ten powerful magic rings created by an Archmage have scattered to ten random people (suggest only one is PC). This happened when he died in battle. Whoever gets all ten rings inherites all the power the Archmage invested to them over his 200 year life.”
“ In a deeply unsettled world, much of it anarchistic or ruled by murderous gangs, a group have adopted the armour, weapons and discipline of an army of the distant past.”
