SC: Idea

	Sleeping Knights by Goto Author View Single A rumour of the knights of some powerful king that sleep until danger threatens the kingdom. The truth is that they were rebels, trying to split the kingdom. Once captured they were put into an enchanted sleep, protected from age and harm, until their aims have been carried out by others in which case they will awaken. There is a loophole in the spell in that trying to take one of their weapons will also awaken them. +XP	Ideas - Lifeforms June 23, 2008	+XP

“ What to export or import.... Fabric: wool, linnen, silk... Wood: raw-material, furniture Stone Marble Coal Metals: iron, gold, silver, copper... Wine, beer, mead, spirits... Animals: horses, sheep, swine, cows... Weapons Armour Slaves Salt, spices Cheese Grains Coloring-powder (for fabric, ink...) Yarn Raw-material to make fabric: unprocessed wool, linnen, silk... Leather Glass: Windows, figurines, glasses, raw-material... Shoes, clothes Tobacco Medicines Poison Coins Pottery Musical instruments Tea (not sure about my spelling here, but I mean the hot drink Englishmen drink instead of coffee!) Gem-stones: diamonds... Dried meat Dried fish Dried fruits Flour Chocolate”

ameli_h

“ The PCs are exploring the catacombs beneath a Colosseum-in-Rome type of structure, when they come across a foul-smelling, stagnant, ankle-deep with algae, public mass latrine. Countless urinals of marble, line this rather large chamber equally crafted of marble. Whatever system of plumbing once worked here, has not in many years. Old graffiti lines the stained,dirty walls, prominently bolded are such intellectual poetic musings as, 'Urine For It Now', 'I Pee Therefore It Comes' and 'Now Urine Trouble'. A few moments after the PCs get to take in this unpleasant location, they hear the low rumbling of ancient plumbing and rather large Urine Elemental rises like a great, wet, wave of filth to attack them. The creature reeks and exudes noxious debilitating fumes, while its liquid strikes burn flesh like acid.”

Murometz

“ AutoMedon A mechanical poet of renown not for his vast catalog of poetry, but for his complete lack of anything written or spoken, having had no output in his programmed profession. His creator is unknown or at least unaccredited, and there are those in great number in the artistic world who wonder and marvel at his inability to produce poetry, crediting that flaw to his creator who is unknown or at least un-credited. There is also a small faction of scholars who believe that when he finally, finally speaks, it will be the most beautiful or sorrowful verse ever spoke or will ever be spoken. Whether his creator is among either group or dead is unknown. AutoMedon sits alone under a tin roofed enclosure, upon a stone chair, with his gaze off in the distant as if thinking. 'It's strange to look at this mechanical man and think what thoughts are working through its' workings or even if the damn thing is' Aralis of Qurim, poet and pottery salesman”

Jarons20