A collection of plot hooks for a game on the road, or more precisely, on the route.

Winter time is a wonderous time for adventure.

The members of this obscure order specialize in growing funghi. Growing, researching and studying many kinds, they even try to create new ones.

A small valley that leads nowhere... why is it so important to the locals?

These are mystic traditions and their attendant sources.

Of fire, but not elementals. Short-lived, yet intelligent. Bound to this world they are, more than most of its mortal inhabitants.

Too many are the spirits of the Spirit World, these are only a few better known types.

'Did ya hear that? There's riches found every night, all over the town! No way you can miss that!'

- "What about that one?"
- "They say he was a chipper back then. Took over his whole family and many more. And now, now he's a real zombie."
Fingers snapped before his face, he didn't notice. He just kept shuffling his cards again, that is all he did. A tear ran down his cheek. He missed the Emotion again.

One of the things you always carry around, and never give it a second look. But even a second look would not help to reveal this one.

It is a small, peaceful village like so many others. Do you wonder who lives inside?

It is said that dwarves have problems with using magic (maybe they cannot cast spells at all). This is an attempt to create a distinctly dwarwen school of magic. The way you use it is of course yours.

A strange, mystical box, with many rumours attached, that does not want to reveal its secret...

'That was the second lynching this month. And last week they haven beaten some old sod that could barely crawl home.'
'Well, he was a drinker and bad to his wife, sir. It is really hard work they do, and not for much pay. But sir, we are doing wonderfully, all is going as planned and better!'
'Yes, the cathedral could be built months before expected, if we can keep up this speed. You are all doing great work, I'll be sure to inform the Patriarch. Just take care no accidents happen anymore.'

Where will we be one day, and what will we believe? How will we consider the world around us, and the people? How will we treat the known and the unknown, and possibly other intelligent lifeforms?

Whether close or distant future, something will be similar, and something... is very likely to be different.

The Pelezians, or 'clay people' were strongly bound to the earth. In fertile plains and valleys they lived their happy existence, peaceful, yet ever on their guard. Many nomadic attackers they defeated, until a different enemy came; their advanced technology and weapons (and magic) were beyond the skills of defenders. One-by-one their settlements fell, until the clay people were not more.

To the greedy students of the past, their heritage is but not forgotten.

Finghaart's sausages hasn't moved since its founding. For all its reknown, it is quite a poor neighborhood.

The Challenge:
Think of any bizzare life-form, WHATEVER life-form that lives a not-so-standard way. Not the way common sense would expect it. Make it in some way logical or not, just forget the boring everyday logic.

Graves of a small, little known folk, exotic as dangerous.

Tales are leaking from below the Iron Hills, that an unnamed winged terror can be seen on the sky on the darkest of nights. What creature it is, nobody knows, but some of the disappearances in the harsh place are said to be its work. If the moon is hidden, nightly travellers are warned to stay from roads and open places.