“ A certain tribe in a valley believes that the soul remains trapped in the body after death and is aware of it. So they treat their dead as if they are alive, talking to them and keeping them at home. They are used to the stink and for some reason are also immune to the diseases that this practise causes but outsiders are not so lucky.”
“ A ruby of immense size, this stone was once the eye of a deity of war. When properly commanded by long lost rituals, the huge gem will rise into the sky, glowing brightly. Visible for miles, all who look upon it in its full radiance will be filled with intense homicidal rage.”
“ He's a non-descript man, with his pushcart. On it he sells nothing more exotic than jars of sun-dried tomatoes in oil and pickled vegetables. But he's always out there, in the courtyard of the great Guild of Wizards, in most weathers, and he'll have a kind word for you, and a jar.”
