:: WRITING BLITZ—Random Items ::

This +4 Kama is made of cedar, which gives it a distinctive aroma, but also poses a problem when keeping any kind of edge to the blade. For this reason, it deals bludgeoning damage instead of slashing damage. On a critical hit, the kama charms the hit creature per the Suggestion greater charm Mind power (DC 25). If the recipient fails, the thought occurs to them—as if they had thought of it themselves—that they should sit and think about what they have done. At the next available opportunity (after combat ends, for example), the creature finds a suitable location to sit and think. The creature then remains in that location, dedicating their time to thinking for the next 20 hours. This consumes 2 of the kama's spell points. A creature that makes its saving throw cannot be affected by another suggestion from the kama for 24 hours.

This +3 chain shirt has been painstakingly crafted out of a massive lode of tiger's eye, each ring carved from the gemstone in such a way that it is already linked to the others nearby. Whenever the wearer of the chain shirt is struck by an attack, the chain shirt automatically creates a visual and tactile duplicate of the wearer in an adjacent square, under the control of the wearer. Those who touch the duplicate are convinced that it is a physical duplicate of the wearer, however, any creature that attacks, or is attacked by the duplicate may make a DC 25 Will save to disbelieve. The duplicate lasts for 20 minutes, or until dismissed by the wearer. Each duplicate created in this way consumes 1 of the chain shirt's spell points. A creature that makes its saving throw automatically disbelieves any future duplicates created by the chain shirt for the next 24 hours.

The wearer of this corset may strike a defensive pose as a standard action. Doing so expends one of the corset's spell points and creates a Totem of Stability which affects the wearer's allies within a 100 ft radius and lasts for 20 rounds. This area is also filled with a strong static charge that makes the hair of those inside stand on end. So long as the wearer of the corset remains within range of the Totem, she may strike an offensive pose as a standard action. Doing so expends one of the corset's spell points and allows her to make an Electric Blast melee touch attack or ranged touch attack within Close range. This attack deals 20d6 points of damage.

This small masterwork keelboat comes with its own roguish helmsman. The boat has four seats, each of which controls a single oar. As soon as each oar is attended by an oarsman, an extraplanar companion appears at the tiller and silently begins steering the ship with expert skill, even responding to typical sea-faring commands issued by the owner of the boat. It remains as long as at least one oar is attended. In addition, the Helmsman shares a telepathic Link with the owner while both are on the same plane of existence. Summoning the Helmsman consumes one of the keelboat's spell points. If the keelboat has no spell points remaining, the Helmsman will not appear.

The Helmsman is concealed by a long, hooded cloak, has the statistics of a CL 20 biped companion (Str 16, Dex 12, Con 13, Int 8, Wis 12, Cha 11, +10 Profession: Sailor, +7 Stealth), and can even aid the crew in combat, dealing 1d4+3 damage on a successful attack +3d6 sneak attack damage (when applicable). The Helmsman has no feats, and the following Rogue Talents: Assault Leader, Bleeding Attack*, Crippling Strike* (Adv), Distracting Attack*, Entanglement of Blades* (Adv), Hunter's Surprise (Adv), Knock-Out Blow* (Adv), and Slow Reactions.

*Talents marked with an asterisk add effects to the Helmsman's sneak attack. Only one of these talents can be applied to an individual attack and the decision must be made before the attack roll is made.

This linden stave is embedded with a large tourmaline in its handle. As a standard action, the wielder can spend one of the stave's spell points to teleport a willing or unwilling touched creature into an Extradimensional Room of up to 200 cubic feet in size, arranged as the wielder wishes (DC 25 Will save). The space remains for 20 rounds. During this time, as a standard action, the wielder may Swap Places with the creature inside the Extradimensional Room. Likewise, the wielder may spend another spell point to teleport another willing or unwilling touched creature (DC 25 Will save). If both creatures fail their saves, the touched creature and the creature inside the Extradimensional Room then Swap Places.

This linen-bound book has been reinforced with iron and embellished with naturally-occurring geode. It contains the magical notes of Moema, a powerful halfling mage. Any mage who has studied Moema's Grimoire gains access the following options when gaining new spheres and talents: the War sphere, Totem of Stability, Commander, and Totem of Enemies.

:: Random Location—Kala, Cloud Forest Settlement ::

The Ranai Forest almost seems to press in on all sides, but your next push through the underbrush surprises you by offering less resistance than you expected. You land in a patch of strawberries on the shores of a massive lake that stretches out before you. At first you feel a sense of vertigo as the mirror-surface of the water perfectly reflects the expansive sky, interrupted only by the inverted image of the white tower standing guardian on the opposite bank.

Long red banners, like trails of blood, weep from the windows set near the tower's height. A unexpected and crisp wind suddenly rushes down from above, sending concentric circles across the lake, revealing the true grey color of the water in the diminishing waves.

Past the tower you see a field of inky black flowers, dotted here and there with an anomalous vibrant pink. On this side of the field, set low into the ground—and therefore almost escaping your notice—squats a long row of stone rooms with large barred gates for roofs. Nearby, a man with skin as white as salt and hair black as oil struggles in the grasp of a pair of swordsmen. The swordsmen unceremoniously throw him into one of the squat jail cells, slamming the gate and locking it after him. The swordsmen dust off their gloves, shake hands, and walk away into the field of black.

Beyond the field, the settlement itself awaits. Unlike most, it is not a simple collection of independent structures, but rather an interlocking complex of homes, businesses, and public spaces, all built into, from, or adjoining the natural verdure. In the center of this elaborate web, one tree in particular—tall, thick, and ancient—displays the windows of a five-storey inn. From the fourth of these storeys extends a bridge of living wood, reaching out to the middle of a neighboring tree where a general store perches among the higher branches.

:: Random NPC—Winona, Siren Expert ::

The first thing you hear is the plinking of bone against bone in quick rhythmic trills. The first thing you see is a curious-looking siren virtually wrapped from her long neck to her lengthy curling tail in informal vestments of seaweed and sponge. Whereas most merfolk you've seen—especially the females—have voluminous tresses of sea-green hair, this one is entirely bald, revealing prominent cranial fins. The plinking is coming from a marimba of sorts, crafted from the ribcage of what must have been a massive fish.

The plinking stops as the siren becomes aware of your presence. She quickly sets down a pair of fishbone mallets, tugging at her coverings to be sure no part of her below the neck or above the wrists is exposed. She turns (really just rolling over to lean on her other flank) to see who has arrived.

"How many have you brought?" she drawls in a high, shrill voice. She extends one webbed hand, clutching her clothes tighter to her body with the other. "The lamps! Give them to me—I must have all of them!" And only now do you notice: in the corner of the grotto sits a massive pile of discarded lamps of every variety—old and new, metal and clay, pristine and shattered beyond repair.

:: Random Item—Chalkboard of Magnificent Bull ::

This handheld slate tablet comes with several sticks of white chalk. The actual tablet itself has been thoroughly used, covered in layer after layer of half-erased drawings, but the cherry-stained wooden frame was clearly added recently.

Most of the faint chalk drawings seem to have been of people or animals—hastily drawn with minimal detail, each one with scribbles over the subject's eyes, ears, or hands. Upon further inspection, you notice that tiny, carefully-carved runes border the outer edge of the frame, which glow with a faint light when a stick of chalk is touched to the slate.

:: Random Location—Benchford, Grassland Thorp ::

Waves of heat rise up from the plain, taking entire clouds worth of moisture with them. It is stifling to say the least. The trail leads straight over a short but cavernous crack in the ground, spanned at the narrowest pinch by a bridge of stone. The height is daunting, but the trip to the other side is a brief one.

The thorp begins almost immediately on the other side of the chasm, a prominent selling-house advertising "ravine tours" on a sign that swings from the porch. This house, though old, is well lit and clean. The rest of the thorp, however, is positively ancient by comparison. As you emerge into the center of the place you see a crude stone bench—dew-dappled and moss-covered—surrounded by a circular garden with flowers of cobalt blue.

By necessity, each of the few dwellings that circle the bench is also tasked for selling the goods and services of those who live there. The trail continues on the other side of the bench, between "Frida's Belladonnas" and "Benchford General Goods", and out into the wide world once again. From that direction also comes the bleating of sheep, followed quickly by the sheep themselves, led by one shepherd and trailed by another.

:: Random NPC—Dagrun, Foxfolk Cavalier ::

Your first impression of the knight is that he is awfully short...until he removes his helmet and reveals himself as a foxfolk. In which case, you muse, he is a very tall fox. Nevertheless, he would be even taller if his back did not involuntarily bend him forward as it did. His exotic vestments don't seem to match his gloomy expression any more than the dulcet tones of his voice match his indifferent attitude.

"I am here for the evildoer," the knight states with an aloof sing-song, and dismounts from the saddle atop the large sea turtle that passes for his mount. As the knight's piercing stare scans the coast, you have a moment to take in the unlikely pair. Two-of-a-kind, you think; both rider and mount having dome-shaped armored backs. A turtle of any variety would be an impractical choice for transportation on the mainland, to be sure, but here in the island hamlet of Columnden it must suit the knight's purpose.

At last the knight ceases glaring out at the horizon and actually regards you for the first time. "Well," he sighs apathetically, "you certainly don't look like an evildoer. Do let me know if you see one, will you? Simply ask for Dagrun; they know me here. There's a good citizen." And leaving his turtle companion munching on saltbrush, Dagrun marches inland to find his quarry.

:: Random Item—Poncho of the Eagle ::

As you lift the eggs gingerly from the eagle's nest, you notice—squashed beneath the weight of the eggs—a mass of flattened fabric covered in white-and-black droppings and heavily soiled with dirt. The mother eagle must have brought some unattended item of clothing up to line its nest some time ago, before she laid her eggs. Despite your better judgment, you pinch the edge of the garment and peel it away from the rest of the nest, shaking it to be rid of the stray feathers and small animal bones. It is evidently a woolen poncho, though unremarkable in every way. At least, as far as you can tell...

Not certain what to do next, but positive that you won't be climbing down with the thing (and unwilling to put it back for some reason), you drop it to the ground from halfway up the tree. You watch as it falls, surprised at the graceful waves of air that fill out its folds. It lands almost elegantly, suggesting something more than an ordinary woolen poncho.

You climb down with your breakfast in the bag over your shoulder. Reaching the ground, you set the bag down by the tree and pick up the repulsive article of clothing, convinced now that there must be something else to it. Eyeing it in your hands, and questioning yourself every step of the way, you actually put it on.

:: Random Location—Alinta, Mountain Fort ::

The walls of the ancient village of Alinta were toppled by a small child—from the inside.

Once, a very long time ago, there were six Córean merchants who left their homes to set up shop in a city together. One of the merchants was named Alinta, and she made pyrotechnics the likes of which none had seen; with but a small flame, they would pop and sizzle and whiz off into the sky and explode in all manner of shapes and colors.

The other merchants knew that Alinta was talented, which is why they wanted to come with her. For who would be watching Alinta's pyrotechnics but clients that would want something to eat, and perhaps a blanket against the cold of the night, and surely transportation to and from the watching grounds. So the six set off to find an ideal place for their enterprise, and they found it—not in a city—but on the side of a mountain...

Three things drew them to the spot:

:: Random NPC—Itztli, Sheepfolk Monk ::

The sound of heavy scissors and cordial conversation greets you as you round the hay bale and pull the barn door to one side. You enter to a strange sight: one humanoid sheep shearing another with a pair of shears made of black volcanic glass. The shearing sheep is short, bald, and littered in the clipped wool from her client. Their conversation is cut short by your presence, and the mood suddenly stiffens.

"Who are you?" the bald sheep bleats warily. She brandishes the obsidian shears. "What do you want?" After only a moment her resolve seems to falter, then hardens. She eyes you and quickly finishes the shave job, turning to clean her tool in a nearby bucket. "You're done, Mary. See you in six weeks."

The other, now-shorter-wooled sheepfolk glares at you, yanks off her barber's apron, and promptly leaves, muttering angrily under her breath. Only after she is gone are you left with the sight of all the knitted woolen blankets covering the walls like curtains, giving the barn a homey look.

"My name is Itztli," the bald sheep barber declares, her grating voice pulling your focus back to the now-clean obsidian shears in her hand. "And this is for more than just shearing sheep. Now answer my questions."

:: Random Item—Ink of Mustering Invitation ::

The magical sphere of Conjuration is built on an agreement between the spellcaster and some other sentient eldritch creature, known as a "companion." The pioneers of this sphere in Athanasia contracted their first companions from the ranks of Strangers who visited the infant world. The Strangers signed the first contracts with their otherworldly blood to seal the bond with their spellcaster associates, who were likewise required to sign with their own. Since that time, however, exemplar research has revealed a solution that does not involve such a painful and unnerving process.

:: Random Location—Haf, Desert Settlement ::

The desert offers you nowhere to hide; the sun pounds down upon you without mercy. From a good many miles away, atop a tall mesa, you see the ruins of Haf’s signature henge, marking the burial grounds of the settlement’s most notable leaders. The desert’s dry, brown desert brush began to all look the same to you when suddenly it turns lush, green, and vibrant. Only now do you realize that—besides being terribly hot—the air has now grown steamy. Your mount kicks up less dust as you get closer, and the trail signs are noticeably cleaner.

The path dips downward into a delve that guides you further into the settlement. Just before you lose sight of the horizon, you feel a cool rush of wet air rise up to meet you. Only as you enter the settlement do you begin to hear the roaring waterfall that you were told would be waiting for you inside the rock formation—a cool, welcoming, subterranean oasis. A certain calm settles over you as you ride between the rounded adobe domes, half of which are built into the side of the mesa. Curious owlfolk peek out from their curtained windows—it is not yet night, and your entry is disturbing their sleep.

:: Random NPC—Pukajaak, Seraph Aristocrat ::

Emerging from the tree line, you see the City of Wellstan come out of hiding. High on the cliff to your left is the mage's academy, large and imposing, creeping as it were over the edge as if ready to jump from the top of the icy waterfall to come crashing down on the common buildings below. The blanket of night offers camouflage for the numerous winged forms flying up and down from the city to the academy and back, the sequins of stars being blackened only momentarily as seraphs pass before them.

Just as you release a contented sigh do you see a bright light emerge from the inside of the academy's highest window. The light leaps from the balcony and coasts down in a lazy arc toward you. Only when it comes close do you realize that the light has a voice, and that it is shouting over the rush of the waterfall.

"Why haven't you shown yourselves up? We've been expecting you!" the light shouts, and only as the creature lands do you see that it is a tall seraph wearing a circlet made of the famed pirium—a magical metal that absorbs sunlight during the day, and releases it in darkness. The light from the circlet envelops the seraph woman in a halo that reveals, but does not afflict your eyes as the brash sun would. The halo highlights her colorful cultured regalia, elegant white bat-like wings, and long snow-white hair. She folds her hands in front of her and only then do you notice the ring finger of her left hand is covered by a tight-fitting articulated metal sleeve, or else has been entirely replaced by a masterfully-crafted silver prosthetic.

Your seraph envoy catches your gaze. "A childish mistake," she shouts against the crash of the falls. "One I will never repeat," she adds dismissively. "Are you ready, or do you dawdle to insult me? Come, let us away."

:: Random Item—Brick of Invisibility ::

There are few times when genius can present itself quite like a moment of need. I'm certain you are already informed, but there are a good many unexpected things in this world, and a brick with the power of invisibility happens to be just one of them. You've probably already heard this story, but suffer me to tell it again, if you will.

:: Random Location—Shrine Rest, Trading Post on the Open Sea ::

You know how if you want the freshest seafood there is, you go all the way down to the docks to that one restaurant that actually sits over the water and the cook scoops up the fish right out of the sea? Yeah, Shrine Rest is that place, but for landlubber stuff. And they mostly sell to sea-folk.

The place is on an island just off the coast and it's run by mermaids. Sorry, Sirens. (They don't like it when you call them mermaids; there's men-folk, too.) Built by a pair of carpenters named Maiara and Aputsiaq. Sisters. That was decades ago, though, so they're well past their good working years. They got the brilliant idea for the place from that one restaurant on the docks, except they made it for sea-folk who wanted to get a taste of the shore life. Tale's worth a listen if you got a sec. Yeah? Good, listen up...

:: Random NPC—Jing, Winslie Rogue ::

"Jing cares for no one, and no one cares for Jing."

So ingrained in her are the decades of backbites, the betrayals, the misunderstandings—perceived or earned, it makes no difference—that Jing trusts no one. That isn't to say that she makes no alliances; she could not do business as a mercenary if it were any other way. But she never allies with those who have no clear and compelling motivation to ensure that they are acting in their own interests. You want money? A favor? Insider information? All to be expected. That only makes sense. You're in it for the good of mankind? "I don't have time for you," she'll say, and she's on to the next prospective job.

Charity cases are right out.

With one very notable exception: her sister.

:: Random Item—Shuriken of Twilight ::

Morgan had studied in the Temple of Hibernation for a time, learning martial arts like her mentor, Master Chandra. But only after Chandra met her death in the jaws of a jealous Ajagara did Morgan come to discover her true destiny; that of a medium—a connecting link to the world of spirits.

:: Random NPC—Geir, Fenris Shaman ::

The old grizzled Fenris shaman will tell you the end is nigh, and you're tempted to disbelieve him—just as you would any other crackpot fool wearing a sign around his neck—except that this crackpot fool supports his claims with evidence. Though old, Geir's clothes are clean. Though prophesying the coming calamity, he is paradoxically cheerful. This, he says, is because there is still something that can be done about it.

:: Random Location—Kaawa by the Way, Forest Thorp ::

As you march along the trail, fallen pine cones crunching beneath your feet, the tall trees towering above you, the sound of trickling water meets your ears; your first sign that Kaawa is near. Soon after, you come upon the characteristic piles of stone that flank the trail, the cairns standing both as gate and sentinel for what lies beyond. The trail continues past the cairn, but you take the less-traveled path through the underbrush. The air turns crisp, and clear, and you know that out into the wood just a little more is the spring that supplies the inhabitants of the thorp.

Only just before you emerge from the green does the burbling of the spring give way to another sound. No, many sounds: many people laughing at the same time, the trill of a tinflute, a boastful voice, and then a melodic response. As you pass between the small, sturdy houses from behind, you smell the sweet, nutty wafts of a food vendor selling honeyed pine nuts. You enter the clearing proper and see a simple stage that has been built out of cloven trunks where an acrobat deftly flips several times before feigning a botched landing. The small gathering of local folk laugh in concert again. Your heart lifts: you've reached Kaawa by the Way.

:: Random NPC—Mani, Draconian Monk ::

Short in stature, but with long legs, Mani cuts an almost frog-like figure among the other draconians of the Iguanar horde. At a drunken glance, some might mistake her for some overgrown Ranai, if it weren't for her thick hide of frosted scales and tiny, squinting, articulated eyes. Always drawn to a more traditional form of dress, she can frequently be seen practicing the forms of her Scorpion Style—an impressive demonstration of the discipline she gained from long years of study—in the Temple of Hibernation under the sands of the Akkedis Desert.

No stranger to secrets, Mani safeguards the location of her daughter, the result of a youthful dalliance with a draconian archer from another tribe. So suddenly was their passion kindled those many years ago that neither had even given the other their name before their union had reached its climax and they were obliged to return to their homelands. Mani laid the egg in her mother's cave, never telling her what had happened, and for a time she happily thought forward to the day she could meet the offspring of her unexpected love. But what was happiness soon turned to despair.

:: Random NPC—Oyibo, Leonian Wunderkind ::

Oyibo (“White”)

by Wm Jay Carter III, 6/11/16

a leonian

Race: Leonian

Age: Middle-Aged

Gender: Male

Stature: Tall

Physical: Narrow Shoulders

Outwardly: Enraged

Inwardly: Embarrassed

Profession: Law Enforcement

Magic: Wunderkind—Love/Enmity

Catchphrase: “You dare to enter the den of the Kahina, infidel scum!?”

Entering the forest clearing at last, you cross the threshold between underbrush and polished flagstone. The den of the Kahina spreads out before you in a perfect flat circle. At its center, nearly 50 feet away, a tall leonian male stands, facing away from you. A long, billowing ceremonial cape hangs from his narrow shoulders, as shock white as his albino fur. You take but one more step and his left ear twitches, marking the sound. An instant later a roar rings out across the den and he is upon you in seconds. “You dare enter the den of the Kahina, infidel scum!?” he bellows, bearing down on you, flashing clawed gauntlets of jeweled silver.