‘To the victor goes the spoils’ it is said but what if those spoils are not what they seem. What if those items of victory, are deadly.
Why did you buy all those Iron Spikes?
What’s this round thing on the wall…
A floating sphere of rusted iron spikes, no good can come of this.
Yet another use for the ubiquitous Iron Spike.
"Didja see the way way I nailed that, Marty?" "Thunderingly effective!"
Capable of delivering up to 20 iron spikes per minute at nearly the velocity of an arrow, the Iron Spike Launcher-9000 is the front line weapon of his most elite clock-work soldiers.
Kazarad the lich watched his minons strip the slain adventurers of their gear, and he being the meticulous type, the gear was sorted into piles. One of larger piles was a heap of iron spikes. "Why do they all carry those damn things? What am _I_ supposed to with all of those? "
Then a moment of inspiration stuck him…..
The Nomin gypsies have a fiddling competition every year, known as the Danse de Velose. Beaters hit out the rhythm on taut drums and the competitors start to play, slowly at first. Youngsters can compete, but are soon pulled away by worried mothers, before the competition becomes too dangerous. After two hours the haunting tune has become dazzlingly fast. You can resign at any time, but the moment you make a mistake you receive an arrow through the neck. Strings may snap, but the players must play on. The whole affair never lasts much longer than three hours, and the last fiddler playing is crowned king of the gypsies.