“ Fedolf, the notorious headsman of Iddland, is known as much for his beheadings as for his operatic arias of doom. A tower of power, standing nearly seven feet tall, and weighing in at almost four hundred pounds, Fedolf strikes fear in all onlookers, especially when he dons his executioner's hood, and goes shirtless, wielding his gigantic double-bladed pole-axe, on his way to the headsman's block. He possesses a beautiful singing voice, and will often send off his charges into the next life, while belting out baritone dirges and antiquated arias, usually involving death, destiny, and duty, in heavy doses.”
“ The PCs are accosted in a major city containing at least one famous fortuneteller / prophet of the future. They are informed that their as-yet-unborn child will (insert terrible evil), and that, although they are very sorry, the PC must be executed to keep this from happening.”
“ For those familiar with cantrips, you know they are minor acts of magic that have hardly any noticable effect on the world. For example a cantrip to make your food taste better won't heal you any more, or be any more nourishing, just won't make it so hard to get it down. A light cantrip certainly won't be able to blind or even distract anybody, but you might be able flash it to signal someone looking at the right spot.
What if children's nusery ryhmes were a form of cantrip? Like the 'Rain, Rain, go away, come again another day.' One child singing it wouldn't do more than spare her house a couple raindrops, but what if the whole village got together and was chanting in unison? Each one doing just a bit might actually be able to divert a whole storm...”
