and it drifts lazily by

Setting: The riparian corridor. Dim lazy rivers and brackish water and boughs bowing down in the mist. Roll d10.

1: A dhow of ancient design slowly drifts upriver. From a distance, there’s something noticeably off about it, apart from its antiquity; the closer a living being approaches, the more insubstantial it becomes.

2: Tiny fey creatures swarm upon your boat, blanketing the weakest among you. Their voices speak as one, a warbling susurration impleading you to release the weakest down into the water with them, where he or she can find rest.

3: A draugr of a man stands hip-deep in the watercourse, ritually washing another squirming corpse.

4: The glowering clouds part for a moment, over only the river. Sunlight falls, shining the river into a golden road, suitable for walking upon.

5: An assembly of penitents has tied themselves to posts, shoulder-deep in the water, in a line following the shore. The water runs with ribbons of their blood as they stand stonefaced and fishbit.

6: A procession of tiny paper lanterns floats downstream.

7: A shoal of fishmen have beached themselves upon the muck of the shore, pallid chests heaving for breath.

8: A geyser of steam erupts from the brackish river, followed by a sinuous drake breaching the surface and taking flight.

9: An old man rows by in a boat, towing three large baskets on tethers. Two baskets carry butchered hogs; the third, a wide-eyed little boy.

10: Several baskets of fish have been left on the shore. They are talking to each other. If you listen closely, they will tell you a story.