Strolen's Citadel: Browsing Moonbeard

Moonbeard

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XP	455
Level	4
Level Title	Mild Lordship of Inking Pens

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Moonbeard's Hall of Honour Submissions - ( 1 )

Moonbeard	An Adequate Blade By: Moonbeard This sword may not look like much, but it will probably save your life. Items Melee Weapons Magical	by Moonbeard 195^xp 9 replies 3077 views 1 HoH

“ Imagine that all the humanoid and demi-human laguages are actually the same, but pronounced with outrageous accents and bizarre idiom. All the elves have a French accent, all the Dwarves have Swedish, Dragons have a Pakistani accent...”

Wulfhere

“ The third son of a candle-maker, and secretly a spy, Tsiao Fong Wei betrayed his family, clan, and town to the merciless Qongg Dynasty, causing the deaths of his own family members. He survived to an old age hiding out in the country side and keeping a low profile. One day however, the 'Paper Knife' finally found Tsiao Fong Wei , and exacted his revenge on behalf of the folk, dead and tortured. After a furious struggle, the 'Paper Knife' plunged twin burning candles into the eyes of the traitorous old man and laughed, as Tsiao Fong Wei howled in dismay and pain. Some say Tsiao Fong Wei died that day. Others say that the old man somehow escaped despite his sudden anguish and utter blindness. The truth is lost to time. But to this day the children of the Red-Ridge County towns and villages are told by their parents to always beware twin lights in the darkness and to never venture into the woods at night, and to keep an ear open for the Groaning Ghost, for somewhere out there Tsiao Fong Wei the Traitor, now a vengeful spirit, stumbles about the darkness moaning and wailing, candles still sticking forth from out of his otherwise empty eye sockets. And though the candles plunged into his eyes all those years ago were a'flame going in, now the wax protuberances are somehow lit from within and burn without, and two flickering lights in the darkness, always portend his coming.”

Murometz

“ The road has never been more than an overgrown mud track, little travelled and little cared for, petered out to nothing more than a flattened earthen line, barely distinguishable from the rest of the landscape. The soil is dark and fecund and dark oaks stand like sentinels at the forest edge, their branches high and leafy. From them hang grizzly human bones, skulls and shiny precious stones. Who put these strange totems there? Are they warnings? Do the PCs dare to take the stones?”

Michael Jotne Slayer