“ 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.”
“ Another real world thing. White tea. Can only be picked two days a year, the two days before the flowers blossom. Could be a similiar plant that...is the deadliest poison known, cure known diseases or psychosis, or a potent herb that just tastes awesome.”
“ You realize a group of men is going right to you. The man in front has a hard determined look on his face, the two men behind follow him with some uneasiness. He stops before you, holding the handle of his sword in one hand, and slaps (choose person carefully) with leather gloves he carries in the other hand. 'Rhadagald Thinvoice, I challenge You to a duel to dea...' Stopping abruptly, he realizes this is the wrong person.”
