The best honey in the realm comes from the town of Aaranus. Merchants flock to the small town to distribute it. The beekeepers in the town are well-regarded, and have a special place of honor during local functions. Newleyweds come for the annual Dance of the Flowers, generally regarded as one of the sweetest romantic evenings for a thousand kilometers.
But disaster has struck the area. The bees, habitating the numerous man-made structures in the area, have given up their hives all together, not to bee seen for days. The sweet tupelo, goldenrod, and alfalfa plants have gone unpollinated, and the mayor is getting seriously worried.
The familiar buzzing has ceased, and things are too quiet. The fretful beekeepers scan the skies for their beloved charges. . .
The local silversmith Thorn Riberson has a difficult problem. There is little silver to be had in the city, and his suppliers have all sold their loads to a higher bidder. With nothing to work with, his family-owned shop will close down, for the first time in over 300 years.
The local meerchants are quiet about their dealings, and do not like to give up their information easily. They do not wish to inform the populace that all of heir silver ore is going to a secretive cult lairing in the outside of the city. In addition to silver, they have contracted a fair number of other suspicious items, including masterwork maces, black candles, and a lot of livestock. . .
The Chronicle is a priestly order of Bards dedicated to spreading the stories of heroics and adventure to the populace. They pay well for stories of adventure, but are very careful to use divinations and magics to insure that the quality stories are true. Many PCs have learned to suppliment thier incomes through The Chronicle's services.
Lately, the clerical order has been plagued by a fifteen-year old kid named Barnas, who is presenting the council with a strange conundrum. He is telling huge whoppers, involving Pit Fiends, Ancient Dragons, and other fanatastical creatures. They must be lies, but the divinations state that he is telling the truth.
The Chronicle owes over 15,000 gp to the boy, which they cannot pay. They need the PCs to disconfirm his wild tales. . .
Swanmays are not the only shapeshifting birds. There is also the less-illustrious Chickenmays, a race forgotten because of thier lack of interesting features. Recently a large group of them have gathered outside of Sharn for the infamous Dance of the 7 Chickens.
In this painful ceremony, the witch doctor perfoms a feat of divine magic, laying a large, speckled egg. It is to incubate for 12 hours, at which time it is cracked and eated for divine wisdom.
Now, the PCs have gotten involved, as the cult has been dispersed by a Grey Render. He has stolen the egg and is in the process of bonding with it. He hugs it, pets, it, and cals it "George," and the PCs will have to negotiate its return. . .
Um, this post is kind of a litmus test to see if anyone's reading these. . . ? If so, feel free to post. . . 20 posts a day from 20 people, and this thing is over in less than two weeks. :)
He hugs it, pets, it, and cals it "George," and the PCs will have to negotiate its return. . .
Thanks a lot. You made me gigglesnort. Now I'm a nerd. :-(
In other words, yes, there's at least one person reading. :-) I just haven't come up with any fun ideas lately. I'll put my creative hat on tonight and see what I can come up with.
Vlarill is the greatest thief of his generation. He did the unthinkable. He has stolen the Amulet of Asmodeus from the Tomb of Glasya, his daughter. While the Amulet has given Vlarill untold powers, it has a habit of opening gates to Hell wherever he goes.
Asmodeus wants his Amulet back and has promised great treasures for the ones who bring him the thief. Now every devil from Hell is looking for him and did I mention, he just walked into the tavern? Which side will your "heroes" join?
My Buffy idea:
Your heroes find a magical flute in a bundle of treasure. When someone blows the flute it casts cure light wounds to all who hear it. The problem is that now EVERYONE has to sing anything they would otherwise say. It will be tough to be a wizard but imagine if you were to meet your arch enemy and now you have to singto one another prior to battle. Definitely fun to role-play. Effects could be temporary or not.
Borous Naostril is not the most popular politician in the city. However, he won the city council elections fair and square (though it's possible there was cheating going on). A vain man, he wants to have an elaborate ceremony in the town square, including a parade route that winds its way through the city.
On the night before the parade, the PCs fought off an attack by a few thugs in a back alley. A search reveals a hidden note, which reads: "Tick tock, the clock strikes seven, Naostril finds himself in heaven. . ."
The retired Rogue Allexander Reprin was famous for his ability to disarm the traps of old tombs. He lives from his personal wealth, as well as from a grant from the local historical society, which is extremely grateful for his work over the years.
Recently, disaster has struck, and Allexander has been assested. The elaborate security system, based on a number of magical traps, tricks, and puzzles, has become animated by an unknown force. Three of the society adepts died before the evacuation was complete.
Allexander installed them, so he is the obvious suspect. In an act of belevolence, Allexander decided to pack up his gear and enter the hisorical archives, in hopes of disarming the various traps he installed, and figuring out why some of them have animated themselves.
That was two days ago, and he never came back out. . .
The Temple of Pelor has been extremely excited of late, due to a recent divination. The divine wisdom of Pelor has granted information about a holy relic called the Radiant Crystal, lost hundreds of years ago.
The Radiant Crystal would grant the temple a number of powers and abilities, which could be used to help the populace stave off disease and illness. Unfortunately, no Cleric of Pelor can obtain it. The holy relic is lost in the Blood Sea, in the depths where no healing sunlight can penetrate. Pelor's loving light cannot be felt in the absolute black of the deep. . .
Wanna take a swim?
The head Wizards guild of a huge city have created a magic sphere that can suck up people's life force and draw it into the user making him gain power, but while sending it to a rich king, kobalds ambush the caravan. The kobald leader gets the sphere and rampages through the countryside, sucking up life force and growing in power...
There seems to be a number of new people on the boards, so I thought I'd revive this for a week or two. Maybe we can still get to 1,000!
Here's a hook:
An old tavern called the Night's Promise sits at the edge of town, its large two story structure creaking and rotted with ill repair. The basement is massive, with catacombs that used to store elvish wine and it's own microbrewery. It sits empty and forgotten, as it was the scene of a mass murder by a travelling group of adventurers. Over 40 townsfolk died that day, and since then, it has stood empty. The townsfolk generally shun the place, for fear of vengeful spirits.
Recently, the cheap land was purchased by a group of gnoish investors, and they've hired out-of-towners to renovate the place. Things are going well, and the mistrustful townsfolk are starting to come around.
Unfortuantely, there have been over three disappearances since the Gnomes came to Night's Promise a week ago, and all that has been found of their companions is a small-sized severed arm, bearing multiple lacerations and tooth marks. . .
Across the land, bands of zombies are moving across the land towards an unknown destination. They have been shuffling through towns and along roads, but do not attack unless attacked first.
Local clerics seem powerless to contain the undead due to their sheer numbers, and entire graveyards stand empty.
Rumors have begun circulating that the necromancers of the land have decided to begin the Last Carnival, also known as The Final Farewell to the Flesh. No one knows what this means for the land or its people, but such a heavy concentration of negative energy in one place cannot bode well for the living.
During his reign, the mad ruler Agronolap was obsessed with his own Charismatic appearance. Shortly after his assassination, rumors began to circulate about his magnificent treasure hoards, which were buried throught his lands in vast catacombs made entirely of mirrors, where he placed statues of himself made of pure gold to reflect their images throughout the tomb.
Recently, a villager boy in the town goes missing for two days. The countryside is scoured, and eventually he is found huddled next to a tree. He has numerous cuts and scrapes on his hands and feet, and many shards of broken mirrors must be pulled from his body.
As he cries out, he yells that he fell into a hole near the village, and was lost. During that time, all he could see. . . was himself.
A small glowing sphere has been wandering through town for the last few days. The sphere has no discernable body, or even a purpose or destination that anyone can determine. It simply floats randomly through town, moving through solid objects as though they didn't exist. All attempts to communicate with, guide, or banish the sphere have failed. It appears to be causing no harm, other than brief startlement as it floats serenely through houses, businesses, pets, and even people.
Suddenly, the sphere flies straight to the center of town and starts pulsing in angry shades of red and yellow...
The Lingust Uvdan Previl spends his days locked away at the local Academy, translating texts and performing strange, arcane research. The PCs hear of him when he makes a very startling discovery - one which requires the aid of adventurers.
He is nearly ready to prove that all 4 elemental languages (Terran, Ignan, etc.) come from the same root: an ancient, apocalyptic tongue that he calls Prime 1.
Through diviniations, he has discovered the existence of forgotten Rosetta Stone that contains some of the first variations of Prime 1. This would be solid proof that the language did exist. Unfortunately, the stone floats at the center of a millenia-old Ethereal Hurricane. . .
The Monks of the Bell had a peaceful, quiet life cloistered in their monastery. Everyone has taken a vow of silence, and the only sounds heard are the tinkling of bells . . . used as windchimes, door knockers, and alerts. They believe that silence is the ultimate virtue, and the tinkling of a bell serves to remind them that silence is present between the audible vibrations.
Unfortuantely, this peace has been shattered by a shrieker infestation at the local water supply. Many of the monks are starting to go mad, and others have left for the solitude of the hermit's life. What is causing such an immediate infestation, and can it be stopped before the monestary is abandoned?
Tophill is a mountain spire that reaches up the the sky, three thousand feet into the air (don't know the number in meters, sorry). This strange georgraphy also houses rich mineral deposits, and the Dwarves of Tophill have done well to overcome their vertigo and figure out how to extract it.
The Dwarves of Tophill have sent a number of emissaries to the lower cities, to reopen the treacherous mountain pass that winds it's way down to ground level. So far, the ore must be transferred on foot, and the dwarves have beseeched the merchant guilds and adventuring organizations for a solution. . .
An entrepenuer outfit called the Mental Consortium comes out with a number of marvelous inventions and animal breeds each year. Many of them fail to take on, but the organization often has a success once in a while, which keeps them in business.
Their latest invention, the intelligent horse, has drawn in the gold and the contracts to make more. It understands Common, and is able to take orders with efficiency.
A council of Druids from the sticks have recently entered the city, and is taking serious issue with the horses. They say the Horses are in anguish over their lot as beasts of burden, and have expressed pain and anger to druidic listeners. They have no official representation and ahve been refused a formal audience, they have begun a series of lighting strikes on the tallest strucutres in the city. . .
When the druid who tends the grounds of the nobility turns up viciously murdered, no one can figure out why - the fellow was quite peaceful and soft-spoken, and only rarely was his ire peaked - usually when a noble attempted to cage a wild creature or thoughtlessly tromped on nature for urban purpose.
But shortly thereafter, the four year old son of a noble confesses that the garden swans sometimes speak to him, but they asked him to keep it a secret. The swans manage to escape, but not before exposing themselves as awakened creatures. How long have the animals been intelligent? Did the druid make them so? How many other animals owned by the nobility are likewise intelligent... and listening... and who have they been telling any overheard secrets to?
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There is a certain village in the Flanaess, where a tribe of the water nomads known as the Rhennee did put away the oar and take up the plow. In a world that has shown them nothing but doubt and mistrust, they have found one place which grants them succour. Seasons turned to generations, and the Rhennee became nearly assimilated into their adoptive culture.
Few among these "attloi" remember the old ways, or the old troubles, and none survive who actually ever saw the homeworld of Rhop. And among those who remember the Rhennee secrets, it is unknown if any remember why they left Rhop, for they keep their own council.
But that does not mean the old secretive things do not remember the Rhennee. Nor do the secret ones differentiate between "Rhennee" and "attloi;" quite the opposite. For their sedentary lifestyle makes the attloi all the easier to find.
The old troubles have returned, heralded by an eerie chill in the warmest nights of midsummer. Bringing death in the dark of night to the children of Rhop.
The owner of the best tavern in town is secretly looking for a band of thugs and mercenaries. The mission? Start a bloody brawl and close his tavern down before a certain noble can come and seduce his female entertainer. Is he jealous or buying time for something else entirely?
The party awakens, naked and hung-over, in a tiny residence. After a few head bumps the first to wake makes it out the door to a crowd of cheering halflings. The jubilant crowd rushes into the building to greet the rest of "their heroes". The party learns that the night before they arrived in town, worse for the wear from a hard-won fight. (Advanced DMs: Flashback to combat) They defeated the head lieutenant of a demonically-allied band of gnolls that the halflings had been forced to knuckle under to for the last three years. The halflings cared for the party, feasted them, got them very, very drunk, and mentioned that the leader of the gnoll band would surely take revenge on the village. Though their memories of the event are fuzzy, the mayor thanks the party for their promises to fend off that retributive strike and bring the horde leader to justice at last.
The village matrons arrive late with the party's clothes and armor, freshly laundered and polished, along with the mayor's daughter, who seems to have taken quite the shine to one of the party members on account of something that happened the night before...
Recently, a villager boy in the town goes missing for two days. The countryside is scoured, and eventually he is found huddled next to a tree. He has numerous cuts and scrapes on his hands and feet, and many shards of broken mirrors must be pulled from his body.
Through diviniations, he has discovered the existence of forgotten Rosetta Stone that contains some of the first variations of Prime 1. This would be solid proof that the language did exist. Unfortunately, the stone floats at the center of a millenia-old Ethereal Hurricane. . .
I really like both of these ideas.
A red dragon smashes into the tower of the castle, stealing the princess right out of her room. The PC's race to the dragon's lair, only to find a priest of Bahumut in the middle of a marrige ceremony between the princess and a young man with red hair and flames in his eyes.
While resting in a village tavern, heroes learn from an anguished peasant that a shadowy massive figure passes by his house near the village's outskirts several times the last two weeks. The figure tries to move as quietly as possible, but the peasant heared him once and has been wary since. The misterious figure doesn't enter his household, but continues along the road to a nearby manor that is deemed uninhabited. It's last owner was a wizard who just suddenly stopped coming out several years ago.
The shadowy figure is, in fact, a half-golem, a misshapen construct that stalks around it's master's manor. What is it trying to do? Is it's master still alive? Or is it trying to obtain something from the building?