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PeteBain's Profile

Our Author's latest news and articles.

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PeteBain - Social Profile

- Noble Minion of Scribbling

For Next Level: 485xp of 2255xp complete.
485xp

Hall of Honour

1 HoH

Golden

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- RANDOM
Dungeons | 170xp

Orbs of Wendlehook

'Pass me the blue one.' said Quinn.

'Are you sure?' asked Elise. 'It's just, you were sure about the last two combinations, and that ceiling got closer both times.'

'It's a gamble, I agree,' replied Quinn, 'but whatever's behind this door has got to be worth it.'

Elise passed Quinn the blue stone which he placed carefully in the final slot. As the grinding began, Quinn looked to the door while Elise looked up...

- RANDOM
Lifeforms | 145xp

Trash Golem

The adventurers hear a noise and turn, only to see a bottle clatter down the street. Shrugging it off, they continue on their way, blissfully unaware of the hulking mass of junk taking shape behind them...

- RANDOM
Plots | 130xp

One Man's Trash...

'What do you mean the vault is empty?!'

'Just that, sir. It's empty.'

'There was a half tonne of gold coins in there! Did you see a cart? Any orcs or ogres? A dragon?! It's not like it just got up and walked away!'

'Actually, sir...'

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Guilds
“ Often valuables is counted in coins, jewelry and magic items. Surprise your players by offering them cheese, wine, cloth and art as rewards and payment.”
Clemmensen
“ A town has a festival every year in the dead of winter. The festival of birds. The towns folk dress in feathery robes and beaked masks and dance and frolic in the belief that the changes of the seasons are controlled by the presence of birds. According to tradition, the festival tricks Spring into coming early because the birds have returned.”
Aralias
“ 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.”
Murometz
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