“ The party receives a poorly written call for aid from a nearby mountain community. When they arrive, the town is overrun by trolls, but where are the villagers?”
“ If thrown into a moat or a ditch, they react with water to make an area of ground a foot wide and solid enough to walk on rise from the bottom. If eaten-well, the body of the one who ate one of them is a real mess. Used to storm moats and forge rivers, streams and ditches. Must be kept dry until used.”
“ The PCs have travelled long and far. As nightfall approaches a mighty storm is unleashed. Luckily there is a lush wood nearby the path.
A good shelter for the rage of the unnamed weather gods it seams at first. As the PCs enter under the roof of this dense wood, they are welcomed by only a few drops wich is allowed trough the thick forest crown. A fire is offcourse required to warm the weary bones of the travellers. As one of the party is set to the task of collecting firewood the others settle down at a suitable location. But alas, they did not know the perils of this forest. But it seems clear to the rest of the party that something ill is at work as the woodcutters scream echo from afar.”