‘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…..
In the far reaches of a long-lost wilderness, there stands a forgotten town inhabited only by children. Though they appear normal enough, their eyes burn with madness, and they speak in a foreign, archaic tongue. Nearly a millenia ago, a powerful spell had gone awry, or maybe it had succeeded - in any case, it ended up blessing, or cursing, an entire generation of children with agelessness. However, as the centuries passed, the children's parents grew old and died, the buildings of the town crumbled to earth, and even the civilization itself faded into history, becoming lost to time. All that remained were the children, driven mad by the psychological toll of living for hundreds of years beyond their age. In time, most children died, killed off by fighting amongst themselves, while many others were driven to suicide. Only a small handful remain, and they are a strange people indeed.