“ The party comes across a nice hermit in the woods. He gives them food and lodging for the night. They awaken to his terrified screams. 'East! It's east! Stop it! It'll kill us all!' The poor horror-stricken hermit dies thrashing in agony, one boney arm outstretched, his finger pointing to the east.”
“ A world where there is a finite amount of magic present in the world, and it's almost used up. With the winds of magic being weak and unstable, how will nations built on the heavy use of magic survive?”
“ Ten powerful magic rings created by an Archmage have scattered to ten random people (suggest only one is PC). This happened when he died in battle. Whoever gets all ten rings inherites all the power the Archmage invested to them over his 200 year life.”