The iron bearded dwarf with the holy medallion of Torag welcomed you all into his forge and began to examine the corroded chunks of your latest discovery. Chanting soft prayers to the craftsman god, he banished the years from its pitted surface, ‘til the pieces were shiny as they were when it was new.
“Ah, yes, I remember this piece,” Rory began, as he always did. “Half a century has come and gone, but I remember. Seven men came from distant lands. They conquered our village with these tools weapons you have rebuilt and made your own, weapons that belched smoke and fire to fell our knights. They demanded the hospitality of our homes and our daughters. For three years they ruled us, and the distant King cared not.
Every summer they disappeared, coming back with looted treasure from surrounding countries. They brought this piece back in the last year, from the lands to the east where tools even more frightening than these rule.
“Daniel Zeelock was ready for them that year. I had made him a sword and many knives. The elves had made him a strong bow. And, we don’t know where it came from, but he found a ring that let him see in the night as well as any elf. That was the key to our liberty. He took three of them by night from afar when they couldn’t see him. Then separated the other four and bested them two at a time. This piece almost killed him, because it could shoot without reloading, but Mindy took the bastard who was shooting him in the back with her knife. He gave her the bullet that shot him as a lucky charm, and everyone thought they’d marry in the end, but Mindy was a stubborn one, and he wound up with Trinda instead.”
“This is a deadly piece, but I don’t begin to know how to fix it. Maybe when you work out what to do with the ones you have now, you can try to fix it.”
Roary wrapped the pieces up in velvet, placed them in a bag, and put them in a table before the young Company of the Musket. “Shall I get us some apple brandy?”
I'm working on a themed Pathfinder game set in an obscure town in the River Kingdoms. The dwarf is addressing some or all of the PCs, a band of aspiring young adventurer's, some or all of whom have found the guns that were taken as trophies in their grandparents time and learned to rebuild them for their own use.
I could tell you some of what I have in store for them, but, well, suffice it to say that their home is located within a few hundred miles of a demon infested land called the World Wound and an even stranger land scourged by high technology?
And, of course, for those who enjoy it, there will be opertunities for creative non consensual scens that move the plot.
For those who don't enjoy it, no need.