Among the ranks of the white wastes and the endless seas of Plincy roam the hovercraft of the infamous religious mercenaries, Isbjörnarna. The side of each craft is emblazoned with the logo of a striking polar bear: claws extended and fangs bared.
There are three things, each sacred and bearded: Moon, Monks, and Moss. All connected. Tied together by the Monks of the Bearded Moon, an old order of healers, mystics, bearers of the secret knowledge, and inheritors of the Bearded Moon's gifts. Theirs is a sect full of mystery and bound by ritual.
The birth and life of a god through the long ages.
Two cultures at war.
They will serve up the Light to appease their dark gods.
The babies of a small village has been disappearing lately, rumour has it that a demon living in the forest has taken them. The monster has the appearance of a shriveled old woman. A hag, disheveled, with maniacal appearance, wild-looking hair, and an oversized gaping mouth. Long pendelous breasts. The villagers say she eats the newborns and has sharp claws that are created for mangling. No one dears to challenge her, enter the PCs.