View Full Version : Kobold Quarterly Collection of Curiosities: The Herald’s Pouch

PnP News Bot
08-01-2014, 01:50 PM
Originally posted on 08-01-2014 01:42 PM at koboldquarterly.com (http://www.koboldquarterly.com)

http://www.koboldpress.com/k/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/Loboyko-Kobold-Jiro-Mascot-238x300.png (http://www.koboldpress.com/k/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/Loboyko-Kobold-Jiro-Mascot.png)Those who make announcements or pass along news might have some interesting things in their pouches. If these heralds are momentarily inattentive or, well, dead, their pouches might reveal these little secrets. You can roll randomly for a result below, use the handy number provided with each entry to figure out your result on a d12. You can also pick the one that works for the area in which your characters currently linger.
d12. Curiosity

Five different announcements with bounties are scrolled up inside the pouch. Each one features a wanted pixie who is believed to be an assassin of one of five spymasters in five different nations. Is this a joke?
Three sparkling bracelets are tangled together at the bottom of the pouch. Is this herald a thief?
Weighted dice in a variety of hues clatter around in this pouch.
A cute little white mouse pokes its head out of the pouch. It has a dainty blue ribbon around one of its legs. A note in the pouch states: “If you are looking at this note, please know that you should never immerse Bluebell the Mouse in water. She will eat your soul immediately. Please return this pouch with Bluebell to me, or if I am dead, give her a good home.”
Pink tights with gold thread woven in a flower pattern are in the pouch.
A note is crumpled into the pouch and states the following: “Upon reading this, you, Herald, are to die. Join all your Herald brethren in the darkest depths of the Pit.”
A collection of bleached bird bones pokes at you.
Your hand comes out wet with blood, but there’s nothing in the pouch when you look.
Upon opening the pouch, a fog rolls out quickly, obscuring everything.
A tiny little imp-like being flies out of the pouch, singing a jaunty song. You feel at peace with the world now. Everyone else should, too. Sometimes, though, that peace comes only with that being’s death.
A ragdoll head is in the pouch. The stuffing around the neck is sodden with blood.
A golden whistle is inside the pouch. When blown, the air around you shimmers, and your voice, when you speak and regardless of the volume you intend, booms loudly in the area.

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