Hey, thought of another one...
The town of Devil's Hollow has an unusual attraction that draws strange tourists and pilgrims from the surrounding area. Long ago, before the founding of the town, a strange construct was discovered, powered down and quiet. Resembling a giant spider with blades on its forelegs, it's central eyes remain dark and lifeless.
After hundreds of years, no one thinks about or fears the strange relic anymore, and children have turned it into a playground, with slides, swings, and teeter-totters. They jokingly call it "Old Grumpy Bones."
Recently, a strange group of pilgrims have been staying at the Inn and enojying the hospitality of Devil's Hollow. They keep to themselves, but some have noticed strange, pink birthmarks above their left brow.
More importantly, since their arrivval, one of the dead construct's eyes has begun to flicker, unnoticed. . .
In a PC's humble beginnings he once played a high stakes game of knucklebones and lost his shirt, after getting roughed up and kicked out the PC never thought anything of it, some 15 years ago...
Now, apparently someone has put a bounty on the PC's head.
Turns out the fellow the PC owes coin to is quite dead, and his son blames you as he needed the money to payback some shady individuals. Now brought full circle, you must find a way to settle this debt, the son of the gambler needs his head off the chopping block and gave them yours instead.
Or, it could go another direction...
Help the son of the gambler to even the score, as these slimeballs hurt or had someone the PC cared for killed?
Thus it would be beneficial to end this trouble, who is to say the gambler's son hasn't faced the same pain and loss as the PC. Make your PC's really have to think about this choice.
Having reached a wayside inn late in the night the heroes quench thier thirst and end the ache in thier bellies. But when the morning comes, thier gear is gone, weapons and equipment. No one saw anything, so what shall they do? The owner of the inn is an old lady in her late 80's. Hardly a suspect. Though there WAS some OTHER guests last night....
Perhaps they may have thier items as they departed at sunrise, headed east she thinks.
Just give them a wild goose chase for a bit in a major city.
But do allow them to run into the thieves as word of mouth in town says that the PC's are honored guests in the Dragon's Nest Inn, for the thieves are in fact another band of adventurers seeking to cash in on the PC's reputation.
To be a real pain, (only for a home campaign) make the thieving heroes diffrent charcters the players run on other adventures.
I've done this once, it was a real laugh.
Outside of the city limits, there is a half-orc hanging around a few yards from the main road. He is dressed in filthy rags and his face seemed horribly scarred by some skin disease. When the guards approached him, he slunk into the trees.
A matter of city jusisdiction, the party is to intervene. If they approach the ugly, malformed half-orc gently, he informs them in broken common that his name is Mourne DeHarg, an extremely shy druid who hasn't talked with another humanoid in ten years. He was protecting a deadly set of carved animal totems bearing the spirits of predators with a taste for human flesh, but now they have inexplicably escaped. . .
When she was found half buried in the avalance, the left side of the elf's face was frostbitten and black. Wearing wizard's garb and chilled to the bone, the unknown woman was taken to the Festival Hall to be warmed by the hearth.
Laying in a coma for weeks, she does not open her one good eye. Suddenly, the booming drums of the Frost Giants echo in the mountain, and the people prepare to evacuate town. The Elf, upon hearing the sounds, wakes suddenly and cries out. "Father is coming," she says with frostbitten lips. . .
The Sage-Alchemist Tully has lived in the small village of Safe Haven for decades, providing to the needs of the villages as required. His familiar, a pocket dragon called Yulan, has rested in the rafters of his home the whole time, coming out only to play with the children or take a treat from his master.
Years of exposure to alchemical gases has sickened Yulan, and now he is dying of a rare respitory disease induced by dozens of rare chemical compounds.
The local cleric is incapable of healing the poor creature, and recent troubles involving highwaymen have kept the militia on its toes in the area.
With no fighting men to hire, Tully begs the PC to help him get a cure before Yulan dies. The closest city is miles to the north, and they are the only people that can get there in time.
But on the way they are waylaid by highwaymen and the gold they require is stolen. The PCs are left alive, but penniless, lost in the forest and unable to retrieve the healing that Tully needs.
Performing magical scying one morning, one of your arcane casting PCs discover a strange anomoly in the Inner Planes. If further researched, he/she discovers that there is an inconsistency with the "Classical model" of the Multiverse Cosmology.
If a sage is consulted who specializes in Planar research, the two of them are able to come up with an alternative model that accounts for the new anomoly without altering all known planar interactions.
The result is a vastly different cosmological structure. Furthermore, it theorizes 3 new planes never before visited, and with a little work, Plane Shift, Astral Travel, and other spells can easily account for them....
Wanna take a ride?
A husband and wife family of talented silk weavers who arrived in the city a few years ago quickly became favourites in the merchant quarter, even among the nobles. Their works are sturdy and elegant both, and they're a kind folk, if a little quiet.
Recently, however, no one has seen the wife for weeks, and the husband seems nervous and somewhat jumpy. He maintains that his wife is away visiting her family, and yet he still seems to be buying food not just for one, but for more than two. At night, strange shadows sometimes appear in the store where they live on the second floor.
When a local guild thief tries to rob the place, the halfing's bloated body is found in the river, having torn free from what it was weighted down with.
The PCs can easily get things all around backwards if they try to case the store and see the medium-sized spider in a webbed room below. The husband defends it with his life - is he charmed? Or did he do something horrible to his now-missing wife in the name of the vile beast?
The vile beast <I>is</I> his wife. He and she both are Araneas, and came to the city when their community was wiped out by adventurers using <I>fireball</I> spells before trying discussion. The wife is pregnant, and must remain in her spider form for the duration. Though the husband wanted to sneak her out of town, she wanted to stay, thus the predicament they are in...
If the PCs figure it out and are helpful, they'll have to protect the family from the Thief Guild, not to mention the gossipy and worried townfolk.
-For any populated area, from town to large city:
A young lad, Basaylas, never quite got along with other children...shy and withdrawn, he was the victim of cruel taunts and scorn from other children for his scarred skin and lupine features; his quiet, poor but pretty single mother did what she could to shield her son, but she slowly drifted away from an indifferent and cruel community that was self-centered, vain and too often caught up in setting their own children against each other in competition for the few prestigious openings for new acolytes at the Good-aligned temple(s) or mage school...
While gathering wild potatoes in the nearby woods, the kindly mother is attacked by a pack of Lycanthropes who have moved closer to the community in search of new 'cattle' to feed upon... She unleashes sorcerous powers hidden for many years (from her young and wild days...), but still falls to them...
The boy, witnessing the death of his mother, unleashes his own, latent powers, in addition to those quietly taught to him by his mother - and drives off those beasts he doesn't kill.
The party, wether passing through or based in this community, will be set upon by the desperate populace to take action, once the Lycanthropes begin to attack them (both to recoup their numbers and take vengeance on them for their "vicious" defense); they will be more hard pressed when a second front opens - the hate unleashed on an indifferent people by a young, angry half-fiend Sorceror with an axe to grind...and perhaps a few summoned minions...
If the resulting brouhaha isn't enough chaos for the group, perhaps 'Dad' might drop in - or even be called back by Junior...once he reaches the summoning circle in the Mage's School...
Basaylas=Abyssal
Marc
It's been dry in the countryside. Too dry. The crops are lost, the lakes and streams are near empty, and the forests are virtual powder kegs. Something or someone is causing this. The PC's need to find out fast. Storms are on the way but there's no rain in those clouds only lightning and wind.
After being examined by those in the know, it is determined that the tube was sealed long ago and special steps must be taken to open it without destroying its contents.
On the scroll tube there is also writing which the wizard's family has not been able to translate.
The contents is a scroll of a riddle. The answer to the riddle will open a magic portal in the chest. This portal leads to what appears to be a castle... In the middle of a plane they are not able to determine.
Hmm... sounds like a string of recent ideas to me... Read "The Da Vinci Code" or see the movie "National Treasure." They both have a series of solvable "riddle" clues, sometimes using each device in multipe ways.
I LOVE the two Dungeonland Modules. I ran them when I was a kid, and we had a blast. I hoped against hope that they'd be in the top 30 games in the 30th anniversary issue, but they didn't make it. Bummers.
Anyway, since I'm postin', here's another hook:
A emergency conference is being held by a number of small cityies in a similar region. Someone has been robbing graves on a massive scale, and all graveyards in the region are affected.
The PCs, aware of the tribulations of the region, have recently captured a Githyanki wagon bound for the Astral plane. Inside, a titanic-sized hand is found, dripping in a pool of bile. It's highly magical and has been stitched together by the severed silver cords of Astral Travelers. . .
The Tome of Mihchonquet is a revered book among scholars, who protect it wih their lives. The book that tells the history of a tribal race of halfings called the Jadi. According to the book, the Jadi contained a primitive, yet peaceful, culture, but are no longer living. During their time, their bodies were tatooed with vast amount of printed text, which they used to move about their daily lives.
Now, someone has stolen the Tome from the Edberry Respository, and over the following 8 hours, some historical works inside the library are inexplicably turning to dust, or changng their contents to reflect a darker, more sinister history.
The desperate scholars turn to the PCs for help. . .
The party is approached by a halfling caravan's spiritual leader, and invited to dine with them. They are introduced to a young halfling sorceror, who is nervous and shy, and seemingly quite sad. The spiritual leader, who is perhaps a cleric of Yondalla, asks the party if they would ward the young halfling, as he is causing strife among the people of the caravan, and Yondalla has sent visions that he might be 'saved' by leaving the caravan with some such as the players, or 'doomed' if he leaves with others. Since the party has such a good reputation, the spiritual leader is hoping it is the right choice.
He later takes only one of the PCs aside, and explains more of the truth: the halfling sorceror was born on a horrible night, when the caravan had been attacked by undead (your choice). His mother did not survive the assault, and had to be buried specially to stop her from rising, and the boy's birth was rushed and dangerous as his mother was dead just prior to his birth.
All of the halfling sorceror's spells show a sort of 'taint.' He seems to favour - against his will - the various necromantic spells, and as such, the Caravan, who knew his origins, consider him an evil force to be, doomed to become what killed his mother. He isn't trusted. The cleric of Yondalla, however, knows the boy is trying with supreme effort to walk the straight and narrow path of goodness.
If the PCs don't take him on, another, darker group will kidnap the halfling and raise him to give in to his darker impulses. If the PCs do take him in (perhaps as a cohort), he could unfold a long story that might eventually find a way to release his taint and be cleansed...
Bobari Cantalis used to be an acrobat with a big mouth. He would get drunk in the bar and tell tales of his escapes and stunts, each tale wrought with danger and growing more fantastic with each telling. A week ago, a local miner asked him to put his money where his mouth is.
Bobari and some drunken townsfolk set up a line over a nearby cave system that is rumored to be haunted. Its cavernous, smoking opening yawns underneath like an abysal pit, 50 feet across. Undaunted, Bobari started across, but after too many ales, he lost his balance and fell in with a scream.
Last nght, while the miner and his friends were drinking and nervously eyeing the town guard, Bobari walked in for a drink. His pale skull was smashed in, and his arm hung limp and useless at his side. He smelled of the grave.
When he began to tell the same old tales to the astonished crowd. . .
Here's a bizarre one, and yes, the basic idea is straight from the Matrix... :-)
The PCs are resting and relaxing in town after a particularly successful adventure. Flush with cash and new-found magical weapons, a grateful populace virtually worshipping them, and their enemies all defeated, the PCs have nothing on their minds but fun and frolic. Ah, yes, the idyllic life of a great adventurer...
Until one morning they all wake up with no mouths. The lower jaw is now merely an extension of the rest of the skull, meaning that even if a PC goes to the extent of slashing the skin where their mouth should be, there's simply a solid expanse of bone.
Lacking mouths, the PCs have no way of talking to each other or anyone else -- and worse, as they start to get hungry and thirsty, they realise they have no way of eating or drinking, either.
Can the PCs find the source of this terrible curse before they die of dehydration?
Lacking mouths, the PCs have no way of talking to each other or anyone else -- and worse, as they start to get hungry and thirsty, they realise they have no way of eating or drinking, either.Can the PCs find the source of this terrible curse before they die of dehydration?
Creepy... I wonder if there's a Will save to snort porridge up your nose?
A travelling circus has come to town for a night, and it puts on a play for the city about a love affair gone wrong, a jealous husband, and a betraying friend that ends in murder. After they move on, the events seem to unfold among a noble house of the city.
The next night, in one of the farmsteads.
After that, at the local temple.
One a night, the citizens of the town seem to be forced to enact this play, and it's up to the adventurers (some of the very few who seem to be free to leave the city, since anyone born there can't seem to get outside the city bounds without passing out) to track down the troupe, and figure out how they did what they did, and how to stop them.
During the Dark Times, Mad Atachari Del'Barthen represented the ultimate in Arcane spellcasting. His collection of Epic Spells and absolute belief in his own Godhood facilitated his final, insane grasp for world domination.
He was finally overthrown by a collection of heroes, but his body was not receovered during (what is known as) the "Last Fireball."
Recently, the PCs, famous heroes in their own right, are approached by a humble Dust Memphit. Following hm is a strange, amorphous pocket of air that whistles and makes unusual sounds. The Memphit translates that the air pocket is an Invisible Stalker slave who recently escaped from bondage through a loophole in wording.
The Stalker speaks of a vast, floating castle of debris on the Elemental Plane of Dust, where thousands of his kind are magically compelled to tend to the whims of an even crazier Atachari Del'Barthen. . .
The PCs all wake up in a usual place for them (ie: their favourite tavern, their homes, what-have-you) and find the weather a little unusual (ie: it's a bit too warm for this early in spring, or a tad too cold for this late in autumn). Over the next few hours that they're up and about, they start to notice things are a little bit off: there's one extra spell in the Wizard's spellbook, the rogue has a bit more cash, the priest has an extra potion or two...
They've lost two weeks. Everyone around them has recollections of what they've been up to for the last two weeks (at least, in part, such as, "I saw you off with your horses, milord, but where you went, I'm not sure.")
Short version of what happened was a quest they didn't win, where the villain (psionicist? enchanter?) wiped their memories of the failed adventure, and planted enough clues and left acting "informants" around to lead the adventurers in the wrong direction - he's set them up to go find something he doesn't think he could get to (be it because of his race or alignment or some other quality of himself) and then plans to ambush them once they recover it for him.
Basically, he'll leave them to figure out they've lost their memory, and bets on them trying to figure out what happened, and then using his plants to guide them to the ruins/reliquary/whatever where the Item-He-Wants is. Once they recover it, he pounces.
The hamlet of Delvintown has recently sent a bid to the county seat to purchase a worthless patch of rocky badlands. The soveriegn of the region is a pauncy little wart who's stayed in power through mistrust and paranoia. He has hired a propsector to poke around and figure out why.
Well. . . there be Silver in them hills, and the odds are very slim that the Delvinite's didn't already know about it. The PCs have been hired to investigate the hamlet, and they only have 3 days until the soveriegn sends a force of troops to disperse Delvintown alltogether.
I'm in a goofy mood tonight. Here's my idea for the day. Take with a big grain of salt. Obviously only works in certain types of campaigns.
The PCs all wake up one morning wearing pink tutus. Any clothing or armour they were wearing has vanished, but otherwise all of their equipment is intact and accounted for. The tutus are non-magical, and there's nothing to stop the PCs from simply taking them off and buying new armour to replace what they've lost.
The bizarre keeper of strange antiquities, Doogal Mcdugal, wipes tears from his eyes as he tells the PCs about his recently stolen posessions: a clutch of Rust Monster eggs. He also informs them that the town guard is unable to help, as they have to prepare for the annual Hunt of a Thousand Boars.
Every year during Winter's last full moon, a ghostly swarm of boars sweeps throught he town, where they are reslain by the townsfolk. It's an annual tradition that draws thousands to the region.
Still begging their help, Mcdugal is interrupted by the red-faced town Seargant. He informs the PCs that the sacred Armory has been spoiled, and every ghost touch spear has been rusted beyond repair. . .
Travelling the countrysides of a dozen Prime Material Worlds, Kelvnar Rabblestane has spent a majority of his time working on the Silver Census. His results over the last few years are quite disturbing. . .
Kelvnar is tracking lycanthropic activity from the largest city to the smallest hamlet across the planes, and has made a startling discovery: virtually every single gathering of people has been affected by the disease. Whether it's a pack of Wererats in the sewers or a maladjusted Werewolf boy in the sticks, lycanthropy is on the rise, and seems to have no standard ecological pattern or infection rate.
Recently, Kelvnar has voiced his results to the Wayfarer's Society, and explains the obvious: The disease cannot have been spread naturally. Somebody or something is spreading it on purpose. On the night following the speech, the Silver Census is stolen, and Kelvnar is attacked. Untrusting of the establishment, he turns to adventuring PCs (and their VAST experience fighitng lycanthropic creatures, no doubt) for help. . .
This hook is similar to the one I posted yesterday:
After years of foolishly overextending themselves, the Drow have finally erred. Thousands of surface strikes, incursions, and half-drow breeding missions have left the home "vault" suddenly vulnerable to attack.
The Drow economy has collapsed from overspending on surface raids, homeland defenses are waning, and the long supply lines to the surface are constantly harried. Several drow cities in the Underdark are now completely overrun by lesser creatures, and thousands have been forced to flee to the surface as refugees.
Drow leadership is demanding asylum from surface cities, and the human and elven lands are calling for full war. Only the PCs (with their VAST experience fighting Drow, no doubt) are capable of resolving the crisis. Unfortunately, this means gaining the trust of the Drow, travelling to the underdark, and restoring the lost cities to their former owners. . .
Creepy... I wonder if there's a Will save to snort porridge up your nose?
Not yet, but at the rate that page is going I'm sure the topic will be described in Wil Save fairly soon...Ooops, wrong thread. Ha ha he heheh ehh eh...um...hmmmm
Oh, all right...
A character in the party gains a weapon that increases in power based on the number of foes it slays. About one increased ability per 20 foes slain (reduced to below -10Hp) These powers make the wielder more bestial, and include allowing the PC to Rage, get natural armor bonus due to extra hair growth, gain Low light vision, scent and Pounce. But the weapon also has a dark side, as the wielder becomes more bestial, he/she becomes compelled to feed on his/her kills. This begins by chewing a finger off to get a ring, but eventually leads to gnawing on an arm "to gain the foe's strength" to ripping out a foe's heard and eating it. Eventually the PC will become a Were Creature. How will the PCs companions handle their friend's new combat prowess and thirst for blood?
ASEO out
Not yet, but at the rate that page is going I'm sure the topic will be described in Wil Save fairly soon...Ooops, wrong thread. Ha ha he heheh ehh eh...um...hmmmm
LOL
For now, I've forsaken the Wil Save post. . . for awhile there, it was like a black hole, sucking me in. Any porridge discussions might be tempting to return there. . . hmmm. . .
Here's a hook:
The PCs, having arrived in the port city of Mugare, are startled to noticed there is one, main religion practiced there, though there seem to be no laws or regulations against polytheism. However, many temples of the new religion receive special benefits from the City's leadership, most strongly from the Merchant's guild,
This religion preaches that Arcadia is attainable on this plane, and followers of the religion have the power to acheive it. Theya re taugh to work hard, and one day they can earn the passage to the fabled City of Dreams Come True, where they may experience perfection.
A large cargo vessel, the Rightous Berth, has focused its last year on the tranferring of pilgrims from Mugare, where none return. . .
Imagine a gigantic forest, that takes three days minimum to get through because it is so dense. No one has ever gotten through alive, but it would take weeks to travel around it. Inside, there is a gem of great power, that was sealed away by a powerful mage. The only ones who could touch it are true Neutral, as the mage figured they would not care for it. Inside, are demons, and celestials, both attempting to get at it. They will try to get any neutral character out of a party so that they will be able to get the gem. This is the reason that no one makes it through. The party must find a way to smash the gem, or find them gem and use it for themselves!
Deep in the jungles of Disten Al'Non, there is a vast kingdom of intelligent spiders that hunt prey and construct weird colums of webbing as shrines to their "spider God." Many of the standard races live there as well, and have constructed a tenuous truce between their own villages and the spiders.
One villager lives alone in a treehut, scraping a living from the selling of rare herbs. Well past vulnerable, the wrinkled old man does well when he isn't tripping over his tangled beard. This man, known only as Bertral, has beek speaking openly about the end of the Spider civilization, going far enough to fling stones at the webbing near his house, angering both sides of the fragile truce.
"The era of spiders will come to a close, and their God will fall to a single, green feather," he says with cackling glee. . .
Afer saving a city from a Pit Fiend and his minions last spring, Paladin Aurik Thinblade was a sure victorty during last week's mayoral elections. The striking, horsd figure humbly took the reigns of a city in need of constrcution.
Unforntunately, things have gotten immediately worse. Aurik's first acts as mayor were to abolish the advisory council, tax the more disreputable Merchant's guild heavily, and outlaw all liquor sales.
Every bartender in town is now going out of business, and goods production is way down. Crime is rising rapidly, the Dwarven alesmiths are threatening to revolt. . .
Jules spends most of his time in his cups, and the rest in a santuary at the local temple. His wrists and ankles are oddly bent, and his walks with a shuffling gate. One of the many victims captured by the Glibbering Blade in the second demon war, he barely survived the torture chambers of the cruel half-fiend.
Last night, Jules was found in the back alley of the local Pub. He had wet himself, and was shaking horribly. His eyes darted back and forth, and his stuttering had grown incomprehensible.
When examined by the local priest, it is discoverd that the scars on his back have begun to ooze a dark, manevolent bile. . .
When morning came, the townsfolk were astonished to find a giant leatherbound tome sitting in the town square. Even more bizarre, underneath the book lay the squashed body of Bruaw Qura, a powerful Wizard and patron of the entire town.
The initial investigation reveals that the ruby ring on the body used to hold powerful magic: an expended ring of 3 wishes. The massive tome, on the other hand, is still magical and contains a vast number of arcane spells.
On the outside of the book, strange infernal runes are etched into the leather, which begin to glow brighter with each passing hour. . .
An NPC the heroes like/love/rely on is suddenly on the rampage, doing horrible things to the ones they used to love and basically acting the role of the villain.
It's not them, of course, but the EGO'd evil object that was given to them by the real villain... but it certainly puts a damper in their plans...
Cail Ribern is, by far, the best undertaker in the city. This is not due to his skill in bodily preparation, but rather the talents of his 3 daughters. The Ribern Mourners, as they are called, are constantly veiled in black, and are generally regarded as the finest wailers in the Region. The beautiful sisters are capable of getting the most stoic of men to shed cathartic tears of grief.
Of late, a strange plague struck the city, killing a few prominent citizens. After much church investigations, the authorities have decided to exhume a few bodies for the casting of Speak with Dead.
In all cases, the gold-lined, satin and ivory interiors of the rich, Ribern caskets have been replaced by leaky wooden boxes full of chewed bones...
The city of Moruendale has seem its share of troubles. Located on a murky delta, the swampy, lowlanda draw a number of cultists and their dark denizens of the deep. Bands of adventurers have ben able to take care of most direct threats to the city, but the treasury is empty from paying out all the reward money.
Recently, a dense, unnatural fog has crept into the area, and the lighthouse is having trouble getting signals out to the incoming boats. Many merchants have seen the danger and decided to stop trading with Morundale. This final blow to the economy may mean the end of the city and its peaceful inhabitants.
The lighthouse bell is tolling 24 hours a day, thanks to the heroic effort of the lighthouse keeper and his volunteers, but they will not be able to keep it up forever . . .
Markus Rendvelle is a good-hearted cleric who needed to serve with the PCs on their latest adventure, saving the priest's orphan charges from the clutches of a dark wight.
During the sucessful adventure, Markus used a Summon Monster spell to grab a Celesital Blink Dog from the outer planes. Nommally, a summoned creature gives Markus a salute of faith durrng its time. This one simply growled and snapped at him before being dispellled back.
One week later, a number of furious Blink Dogs arrive at Markus' door. It seems that the summoned creature was an "honor hostage' for a dark Pack of Nessian Hell Hounds called the Slavering Maw. The two packs were on the verge of a peace treaty after years of canine war, and now, the insult has caused them to sluaghter hundreds of innocent villagers in the Outlands. . .
As the ship cuts through the deep blue of the ocean, the PCs enjoy another day of passage on the Sauguin's Vendetta, a cargo ship out of Arborport. Their business pressing at their destination, they take this time to relax for a bit before they hit more action.
At the most peaceful of moments, the crow's nest gives out a heated warning, and Captain Blackwater immediately shouts out orders to his crew. As they scurry about with rigging and hooks, large schools of fish swim toward, around, and past the vessel. They jump into the hold, and flop around the deck.
Ahead, steam comes off of the water. The schools of fleeing sea creatures are suddenly replaced by dead ones, and there is a wet crunch as the boat hits a dying shark. The 'Vendetta glides into water that bubbles, and eventually boils.
Captain Blackwater removes his captain's hat and stares. "'Tis the Finny Beast, and he's taken to our ship. Make plans with the Sea Gods, ladlubbers, fer yer dyin'. day's at hand." With that, the ocean splits as a single, curved horn begins to rise from the water. . .
Under the leadership of the Mercane Ulustrath, the inter-planar travelling carnival has proven to be one of the most sucessful ventures even undertaken in the world of entertainment. The Ivory Carnival, as it's called, has been viewed by Celestals, Devils, and even Efreet from the City of Brass.
Now, the carnival is coming to the Prime, setting up near the largest city in the realms. The flyers promise a vast array of entertainment, including: Dire Tiger taming, Arborean clowns, goblin swordplay from Acheron, Fire Elemental pyrotechnics, and a host of other treats.
Everyone in the world is looking forward to it, including the PCs. Kings, Nobility, and dignitaries from around the globe are jockeying for position. Roads are clogged with traffic, and trade is heavy and erratic. Massive structures are being built according to Ulustrath's specifications.
It's going to be one helluva show. . .
The ghost of the very first creature the PCs defeated has been haunting them lately, and with every new creature the PCs defeat, it seems to get a little stronger...
How do you lay something to rest whose goal is the destruction of the party?
Atilman Breandelshar found himself in an embarrassing situation. He is a member of the city's Nobility, and a decent wizard in his own right. Unfortunately, he liked to use his spellcasting for theivery, and ran with the local guild robbing various affluent city visitors for sport.
Early one morning, the town guard found him sitting under the mermaid water fountain in the town square. His wrists and ankles are trussed up, and he has some kind of permanent ward on his mouth in the form of a small metal plate, preventing speech and spellcasting.
His spellbooks were found floating ruined in the fountain, and the mermaid spits water on his head. His eyes flash with embarassment and anger. . .
Rebus is a tall, emanciated monk who sits alone atop a mountain. The townsfolk call him the Blind Scarcrow for his strange, sallow eye sockets and his starved appearance. He comes to the city once a month to buy supplies and sell a few of his wares: cockatrice feathers, medusa snake heads, and basilisk skins.
On a rare night when all the moons are new, the dark sky barely reveals his unexpected presence in the town square. He shouts warnings about a dark, alien city that will fall from the sky, bringing a terrible force of destruction with it.
"The eyes are upon us now. Their gaze is all consuming, and will burn our sockets to dust!"
The eyes of Rebus begin to bleed profusely until he swoons with pain . . .
The underworld in the city of Malfer is vast and powerful. The city council, the mayor, and most of there Merchant's guilds pay homage, and are required to send representatived to treat with the organization once a month. Valin Mooresh is a Merchant bled dry, and wishes to end it. He gives the PCs all the information he knows, and ask him to stop the terrorizing.
He gives them a silver mask, and tells them to go into the sewers, with directions on how to find the secret chamber. When they arrive, they find only a small, thin man strapped to a chair. He seems completely paralyzed, and a thin line of drool falls from his mouth, staining his tunic.
His eyes follow them, however, and suddenly the PCs feel a presence in their mind. "Valin did well," they hear. "I have a business proposition for you. . ."
Wizards from across the continent come to play in "The Game," a test of Wizardry skills. The only reason this epic contest remains under the radar of popular thought is because of how boring it is.
You see, "The Game" is a competition of 3 main events: Memorization, Cognition, and Spellcraft. For the Wizard, it is a test of mental endurance and consistancy, but is it quite dull for anyone not a Wizard.
This year however, a group of Illithids have politely asked to join the competition. They have been officially banned, but there are rumors stirring that they are lurking nearby to take revenge on the slight, or secretly competing in disguise.
The normally quiet competition, unequipped to handle the logistics of crowd control, has now been mobbed by the Nobility and 10,000 chanting peasants. . .
Davin Morseknife liked to spend his time practiving the arts of war. Unimpressed with the normal practice equipment out there, he decided to secretly commission a series of works from his father's rival, a Wizard called Bruglier et Nursten.
These works, which included a minor Golem practice dummy, a swinging pole, animated ropes, and other devices, were meant to serve as better training tools for war, due to their responsiveness. Unfortunaltely, they were too good, and Davin's body was found impaled on a bayonet in his private gym.
The Morseknife clan is furious, and blames the et Nursten family for the death. The fuse of the civil war powederkeg has been lit. . .
A strange and deadly phenomenon has slowly taken over the fears of the Eryn townsfolk. Every night, the squeaking of a million vamprie bats can be heard, circling the sky. No one knows where they are coming from, but each time they are heard, they have gotten louder. Their dark shapes fill up more and more of the night sky, and have now blotted out the stars.
The sheep ranchers are reporting that their flock is attacked every night, and the town's water supply is slowly becoming contamentated with ammonia. . .
The alienist Calistradi rots away in a dark cell, deep below the city. Straight-jacketed and chained to the wall, the unprallelled genius has not seen light in over ten years. His only company is a writhing protrustion growing out of his left shoulder, whispering mad certainties to him through a slimy, fungus encrusted mouth.
He was captured for mass murder, and sentenced to death. However, Calistradi still has his uses, and was secretly brought to the cell for a profitable sceme. For the right price, a Nobleman can consult with Calistradi, and receive a solution, much like a perverse oracle.
The PCs have just captured a corrupt official, and have seen the anomalies in the ledgers, as well as cross-referencing that would lead them to the prison Dungeons.
The mayor himself, on behalf of the city, has offered them a bribe to simply walk away. . .
For centuries, the barbarian hordes of the Malla Ut Vend have raided the civilized free cities to the south. Many of them struggled economically, devoting such a large percentage of their resources to staving off pillaging warriors.
That is, until about 5 years ago. An emissary of the temple, named Bastian Delgain, did a strudy of the horde culture, and found a way to communicate with them in a way they would respect. Together with the Malla King, he was able to forge a fragile ceasing of hostilities. However, the Malla Ut Vend require two pints of blood, taken from Bastian, each year during thier annual ceremony of the Killing Moon.
There has been unparalleled propserity in the last five years. Unfortuantely, as the killing moon waxes, Bastian has had a horrible accident, leaving his leg a shattered ruin. The fever ridden emissary is unable to stand or walk, and there are no healers in town with the appropriate abilities to cure him. . .
Once every 200 years, the Fell Storm comes to the Salty Coast. The residents count on this storm, and hav evolved their culture to turn the event into a vast celebration of movement and change. The month-long affair is full of reverly and merriment, as the winding mass of refugees makes it's way to safety, a hundred miles inland.
During this excitement, the PCs are approached by a Bogun, who hurridly asks for their help. In the deep coniferous woods to the north of the largest city, the only sentient inhabitants still around are a small forest of Awakened pine tree. They anxiously look toward the horizon, where dark, manevolent clouds have begun to gather. Their druid patron is dead, and his last promise to uproot them for a safe transfer inland, has gone unfulfilled. . .
Tashin Rueva came to the big city over ten years ago to find her destiny. She was an incredibly talented singer, danger, and all-around Bard. Unfortunately, that kind of talent will often draw unwanted attention.
Enter the evil Wizard Naldir, a sinister man with a penchant for both artistic entertainment, and magical cloning. Arranging the kidnapping, he took Tashin to his lair, and set about making a number of clones to entertain him at his leisure. Unfortuantely for him, the original Tashin banded together with her clones and managed a daring escape.
Now, ten years later, every artistic guild is up in arms as the clones of Tashin Rueva have taken over the scene. They have practically cornered the market in acting, singing, epic poetry, and nearly every other artistic endevor. Just recently, the hostilities have grown worse, as two of these clones have been murdered. . .