Electric Wizard
First Post
Jar Town (16.20) (Inspired by this place.)
The weathered and cracked remnants of colossal stone jars litter this stretch of grassland. They range greatly in style and size - some resemble cauldrons, others tea kettles, others vials. The smallest has a 5' circumference, while the largest are easily a dozen times that size! Some appear to have defaced inscriptions, and most have detectable traces of arcane magic.
A few hundred halflings dwell in the broken jars. They tell their children and the occasional traveler that the landscape was the result of a domestic dispute between giants. The village elders know the truth. The jars once collected rainwater that a cult used to conduct profane summoning and drowning rituals. The halflings' seasonal festivals, which include ritualized dancing and song, are slowly hallowing the land and putting the spirits of the cult's victims to rest.
Hooks
-Guelf, a local malcontent, joined an expedition to the Black Ziggurat that passed through Jar Town. He staggered back into town a month later with an eye patch and a strange accent. He has abandoned his family and spends his days etching elaborate symbols on tree trunks. He always destroys his work in a violent fit at sunset, only to continue the next day. What's up with this guy?
-Last week, three heavily-armed trolls sauntered into Jar Town in broad daylight and demanded an annual tribute in exchange for their lord's protection. The locals threw a welcoming feast that ended in the trolls being hacked to death, burned with acid and immolated. The leader's still-living head is inside a box in the sheriff's office, undergoing interrogation. Patrols have increased in the west. The old cheerfully whistle war songs as they tend their sheep and gardens. The young spend their days honing their stone-throwing and archery skills in good-natured competitions. Offering an opinion on the progress of the stockade is a sure start to a lively conversation.
The weathered and cracked remnants of colossal stone jars litter this stretch of grassland. They range greatly in style and size - some resemble cauldrons, others tea kettles, others vials. The smallest has a 5' circumference, while the largest are easily a dozen times that size! Some appear to have defaced inscriptions, and most have detectable traces of arcane magic.
A few hundred halflings dwell in the broken jars. They tell their children and the occasional traveler that the landscape was the result of a domestic dispute between giants. The village elders know the truth. The jars once collected rainwater that a cult used to conduct profane summoning and drowning rituals. The halflings' seasonal festivals, which include ritualized dancing and song, are slowly hallowing the land and putting the spirits of the cult's victims to rest.
Hooks
-Guelf, a local malcontent, joined an expedition to the Black Ziggurat that passed through Jar Town. He staggered back into town a month later with an eye patch and a strange accent. He has abandoned his family and spends his days etching elaborate symbols on tree trunks. He always destroys his work in a violent fit at sunset, only to continue the next day. What's up with this guy?
-Last week, three heavily-armed trolls sauntered into Jar Town in broad daylight and demanded an annual tribute in exchange for their lord's protection. The locals threw a welcoming feast that ended in the trolls being hacked to death, burned with acid and immolated. The leader's still-living head is inside a box in the sheriff's office, undergoing interrogation. Patrols have increased in the west. The old cheerfully whistle war songs as they tend their sheep and gardens. The young spend their days honing their stone-throwing and archery skills in good-natured competitions. Offering an opinion on the progress of the stockade is a sure start to a lively conversation.
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