Edgewise
Legendary Pubber
- Joined
- Sep 27, 2017
- Messages
- 4,248
- Reaction score
- 7,962
Campaign References:
You only have five more days until you lose your place on line. It took longer than expected for the entire party to muster in Ogdenburg for its first entrance to Stonehell, and the terms only allow for two months from when the letters left the Mayor's hand. Five more days and you would have lost your spot, and another company would have been named the exclusive delvers of Stonehell.
But you made it! Each of you trekked from various parts of the Western Heathlands, over hill and wave, until you reached the sturdy wooden palisade of Ogdenburg. After passing through the gates, you tromped through the mud-clogged streets, witnessing the arguments and heartfelt pledges of drunken lumberjacks, as song and pipes spilled out onto the streets from ramshackle cantinas. The stink of Ogdenburg embracing you, you sought each other out.
You witness more than one such morass
You all finally met in a flea-bitten brothel called The Left Bastard, and after a few drinks, proceeded to the Mayor's Hall. After waiting a couple of hours, two chancellors fussed over the lot of you for another two hours, making you sign papers and waiting interminable stretches for the arrival of tea. In the process, you've managed to retain a few important facts:
Such finery amid squalor!
Mayor Rindell has a sculpted black mustache and flowing black curls, arrayed upon impossibly-rich brocaded sleeves and lace ruffles. He wears an impressive sash of office atop what appears to be a mirrored breastplate. Rindell's arrival is immediately followed by the arrival of his overpowering perfume. He stands erect and addresses you in a very casual tone.
"Ah, the new adventurers! You are quite a..." Mayor Rindell pauses for effect, "...diverse band, are you not? Three men, an elf, a dwarf, and a halfling no less? I have to admit, that's a new one for me. What do you call yourselves?" he says, idly twirling a finger in the air.
You only have five more days until you lose your place on line. It took longer than expected for the entire party to muster in Ogdenburg for its first entrance to Stonehell, and the terms only allow for two months from when the letters left the Mayor's hand. Five more days and you would have lost your spot, and another company would have been named the exclusive delvers of Stonehell.
But you made it! Each of you trekked from various parts of the Western Heathlands, over hill and wave, until you reached the sturdy wooden palisade of Ogdenburg. After passing through the gates, you tromped through the mud-clogged streets, witnessing the arguments and heartfelt pledges of drunken lumberjacks, as song and pipes spilled out onto the streets from ramshackle cantinas. The stink of Ogdenburg embracing you, you sought each other out.
You witness more than one such morass
You all finally met in a flea-bitten brothel called The Left Bastard, and after a few drinks, proceeded to the Mayor's Hall. After waiting a couple of hours, two chancellors fussed over the lot of you for another two hours, making you sign papers and waiting interminable stretches for the arrival of tea. In the process, you've managed to retain a few important facts:
- You're apparently very lucky to be given this opportunity because it will make you fabulously wealthy, but you're not expected to live for very long.
- You must pay the Mayor one-hundred crowns (coins) of gold per month to retain this privilege.
- Those who enter Stonehell without this privilege are declared outlaws by the Mayor, their lives and property forfeit to whomever would take them.
- Stonehell rests below the ruins of a forgotten city in the Moisture Swamp, on the shore of Bronzewater Lake, about eight leagues away from Ogdenburg.
- There is no road to Stonehell, so an overland journey would take two days through the snake-infested mire.
- There is also a ferry across the lake by the Truman brothers that takes only four hours to arrive at Stonehell.
- Ogdenburg just loves adventurers for their fun free-spending ways. But if they cause too much trouble, the people will learn to love the next party even more.
Such finery amid squalor!
Mayor Rindell has a sculpted black mustache and flowing black curls, arrayed upon impossibly-rich brocaded sleeves and lace ruffles. He wears an impressive sash of office atop what appears to be a mirrored breastplate. Rindell's arrival is immediately followed by the arrival of his overpowering perfume. He stands erect and addresses you in a very casual tone.
"Ah, the new adventurers! You are quite a..." Mayor Rindell pauses for effect, "...diverse band, are you not? Three men, an elf, a dwarf, and a halfling no less? I have to admit, that's a new one for me. What do you call yourselves?" he says, idly twirling a finger in the air.
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