“ A race that are always born as twins and only one recieves a soul. The other is soulless therefore without pity, shame, or guilt. The evil race. Can't tell them apart by looking at them.”
“ A local sculptor of note has chosen to honor the adventurers by crafting lifelike statues of them. While he hopes to surprise them by setting the statues up in their home while they are off adventuring, he may have underestimated the paranoia of the typical adventurer. Provided that he can get in, is he likely to survive whatever precautions they have against intruders? Assuming he lives, what will they make of finding statues in their house?”
“ Wytchwolde-Under-Ash, once a great Thorpe, was razed to the ground by the ruthless, and truth told more than slightly deranged, Porcelain Princess and her henchmen, the Purifiers. When the flames had at last subsided, and a kaleidoscope of swirling, dull-gray ash choked the sky, nine hundred acres of old growth iron spruce, black larch and weeping birch, was burned to utter cinders, along with the entire coven of witches comprising the Sisterhood of the Silver Teat.
Now, centuries later, the forests are somewhat re-grown, and the town of Foolswater stands where Wytchwolde-Under-Ash once did. It is said that even to this day, one can still find ashes in the otherwise potable well-water of this village. Once a year during the Winter Solstice, the 'Ash-Wind' comes to Foolswater, a suffocating black cloud that passes quickly but leaves dead birds and animals in its wake, darkening the trees, and staining the sky with black snow. The inhabitants of the village know better than to be caught outside during the day-long Ash-Wind. Everyone is locked snugly inside, singing old hymns that curse and re-curse the burned witches who once called this place home.”