Background info for a (supposed) one-shot I’ll be running on Google+/Roll20.
You are wanders: Barbaric, Pantless Atlanteans questing to attain the title of Gloryseeker; a Rogue Termitoid Hive Mind out to find and expand itself; and (possibly) a Giant Sexy Cave Amazon thief on her way home.
For the evening, you have joined the Barbaric, Pantless Barbarians in the yurt-village of Croog-Ma in the southeastern reaches of the Feral Savanna, north of the steaming Jungles of Baslaag, and partake heroically of the fermented woolly triceratops milk that flows freely in Chieftain Mokda!’s longhouse. Morning arrives with its hangovers and the scent of burning grass in the parched air. Stumbling out into the dawn, you grumble and, squinting, gaze upon a great, swollen and towering cloud of black smoke rising from the grasslands to the south. Below it glows, like a second dawn, a great conflagration sweeping across miles of the savanna.
The tribespeople gaze upon the fire with wonder and grunt assuredly that the catastrophe affirms Crom!’s moody nature. Everyone takes in a bit of the hair of the woolly triceratops that bit them and settles in to watch the world burn. Soon, however, dozens of pantless people appear out on the grass to the south, soot-covered, some horribly burned. They stumble, fearfully, into Croog-Ma and are welcomed. Between stoic grunts against the pain and coughs, these refugees speak of a great fire-breathing death lizard that appeared in the night and burned the hive town of Sogg, scouring it with gouts of flames from out of its long throat. The death lizard is said to have been larger than a horned brontosaur.
Chieftain Mokda! listens glumly and worries that such a beast may soon make its way to Croog-Ma. Tthe chieftain’s gaze swings slowly over to you. You watch him stare. You glance at one another. The chieftain nods and says, “Lo! gloryseekers, ye shall scout the burning country to the south and lay eyes upon this death lizard!” He looks over to the local shaman, a hunchbacked and sniveling man with long, black fingernails who nods his assent. “Crom! wills it. Also, you owe me for the woolly triceratops milk. So, go forth into the burning lands and lay eyes upon this death lizard, kill the great beast if you are worthy, and return with proof so your names may be shouted in glory!”