Post by DM Sin on Oct 21, 2006 10:30:34 GMT -5
Keldrivver
This hamlet nestles between grassy knolls at the eastern end of the Troll Hills. Once an isolated monastic community dedicated to the veneration of Oghma, it was raided many times by trolls and several times overrun, with the monks all slain, driven out, or forced to flee into hiding. Some 200 years ago, all the monks were dead, and their hold was in ruins. An Amnian adventuring band of vicious reputation, the Circle of Scythes, came to the ruined monastery in search of spellbooks and other riches, but disappeared while exploring the monastic cellars. A servant left with the horses told wild stories of many-tentacled things rising out of the ruins with the adventurers struggling in their grasp. Other adventuring bands went out to the ruins of the House of the Binder (as the monastery was known), but came back empty-handed. The cellars had fallen in, and there was no trace of spellbooks, adventurers, or any monsters beyond all-too-numerous trolls.
The rubbery skinned menaces took over the hold for some years, until they grew so strong as to imperil all use of the trade road. A great war band was whelmed in Amn to deal with them under the leadership of one Kheldrivver, a warrior-turned-swordseller who promised to sweep the area clear of trolls and keep it that way. He did so, and transformed the House into a stonewalled cluster of fortress-like, stone-turreted homes, with slate roofs. As little as possible was made of wood so that fire could be used with enthusiasm in the event of troll attacks. The community became home to a few mercenary warriors who wished to retire. Under Kheldrivver’s leadership, they gave protection and dry, guarded warehouses to farmers wishing to settle in the area. Many times since then the trolls have been hurled back, and Kheldrivver’s Hold, which over the years has become known just as Kheldrivver, remains a farming center today, visited by many enterprising merchants who sell the splendors of far-off places and buy fresh produce for sale in Waterdeep and the cities of the Sword Coast. Kheldrivver himself disappeared mysteriously soon after the rebuilding of the monastery. Locals whisper that he was definitely digging alone in some of the deeper local cellars, in search of whatever monks’ treasure might remain, and most folk believe he found something and then something else found him.
Local legend now speaks of him being seen only by night, with stag’s antlers growing from his head! There are pits, walled off corners, and stone piles in many cellars in Kheldrivver. Most folk don’t speak of them, while others let adventurers go down into their own cellars in return for fees of 50 gold pieces or more. While certain village people may be getting rich on this, so far no adventurers have returned from the cellars anymore wealthy than when they went in.
Roaringshore
This isolated village nestles in a small deepwater cove on the coast about a third of the way south from the mouth of the Winding Water toward the city of Baldur’s Gate. Like Lathtarl’s Lantern (see that entry), this is a pirate hold, but unlike the Lantern, the reputation of bold, lawless Roaringshore has spread far up and down the length of the Sword Coast. Though such tales have grown in the telling, this is still a place raided at least once summer by mercenary armies of 70 or more lancers or horse archers, hired by Amn and Baldur’s Gate. As a result, prominent folk and businesses here tend to be (literally!) short-lived. Even so, two establishments of note have lasted long enough to garner well-deserved reputations: the Swordarm and the Broken Goblet. The traveler should be aware that many pirates here are runaways, local thieves, and adventurers all out to make an impression, and perhaps attract some business as mercenary hirelings. A lot of posing goes on. This can make Roaringshore a very dangerous place for the visitor who isn’t in a large, well-armed group, or obviously powerful. I had to flee it abruptly, but I did manage to learn the details about the two main attractions first.
The Goblet
When pirates and lawless folk come to brawl and carouse, their first thought is to roll into the Goblet. swords drawn, and swagger as they promenade along the raised entry dais and down toward the bar. It’s the place to be seen, and the place to be killed in, if the body count of the last few years is any indication. Don’t go here unless you’re very good with a blade, alert, have a lot of well-armed friends with you, and are protected against poisons. A spell such as ironguard(which renders one immune to metal bladed weapons for a time) is an ideal protection here, but beware, this place is strongly warded, and the defenses permit only existing defensive spells to continue. Newly cast spells are twisted and lost, without effect. The defenses also whisk all missiles (hurled glasses, daggers, darts, bolts, and arrows alike) up into gentle contact with the ceiling. This prevents broken glasses, for drink is served here in ornately carved and blown glasses, some of which are exquisitely beautiful, and rather more of which are simply rude. There are constant rumors that the staff and ownership of the Goblet are not human, and consist of beings far more deadly than the doppleganger “wenches”. Most folk believe that some fell power runs the tavern. Its wardings are certainly strong, and spells have been deflected from them that hurled back or slew large mercenary attacking forces sent to cleanse or raid Roaringshore. (Those bearing a ward token can cast spells within the tavern.) The truth, according to one Harper I spoke with, is that … Volo, ye can be so prudent sometimes it amazes me still. Just avoid the tavern and ye will be fine - Elminster
The Swordarm
You’d expect the only inn in a pirate hold regularly rocked by brawls and open fighting in the streets, and often raided by mercenary armies, too, to be a crumbling, filthy, vermin-infested ruin of a place, on the verge of falling down. Well, the Swordarm was, until a powerful evil wizard decided to make it an investment. He devised a mysterious spell of great power that entrapped his three apprentices, binding them in a mystic web of forces linked to the old stone-and-timber inn building. Their life forces hold the inn together and convert spells cast within it into raw power that binds together and repairs the place, and makes guests safe from hostile spells. The unfortunate apprentices can be seen to this very day, two young men and a young woman clad in dusty, dangling tatters of robes, floating face-down near the ceiling of the lobby and staring down in frozen, endless horror at folk who pass below. After they were trapped, their captor and master, the mage Aulyntar Cowlsar, pierced the walls with many new windows, added an ornate balcony and hanging staircase, and cut a pool now full of hot tingling waters into the floor of the lobby. (This pool would be a delight to bathe in were it not for the continuous feeling of being watched, due to the unfortunate apprentices, no doubt.) These changes probably mean that should anything befall the apprentices, the Swordarm will undoubtedly collapse. Until then, it’s quite an impressive place.
The Swordarm has housed many powerful and dangerous pirates and adventurers over the years. They have come to expect, and depend on, a place that is clean, quiet, and safe. On the rare occasions when guests have offered violence to anyone, swift and sure spells (presumably those of Aulyntar, who prefers to remain unseen) have lashed out to end the matter, usually by destroying the belligerent guest, although there have been some reports of such individuals being teleported abruptly into the depths of far-off Skullport, beneath Waterdeep, or the heart of the jungles of Chult, or into the midst of Icewind Dale. So this inn has become a neutral meeting place for deadly enemies, uneasy rivals, and swaggering folk-of-danger alike. If guests intend to do business together, however, they tend to arrange to meet elsewhere, no one is free of the feeling that Aulyntar or his frozen apprentices are always watching and listening. Some folk are so sensitive to this feeling that they cannot stay in the inn for more than a few breaths. On the other hand, it is the safest haven in Roaringshore, unless one is a wizard. There are several tales of mage guests disappearing here over the years.
This hamlet nestles between grassy knolls at the eastern end of the Troll Hills. Once an isolated monastic community dedicated to the veneration of Oghma, it was raided many times by trolls and several times overrun, with the monks all slain, driven out, or forced to flee into hiding. Some 200 years ago, all the monks were dead, and their hold was in ruins. An Amnian adventuring band of vicious reputation, the Circle of Scythes, came to the ruined monastery in search of spellbooks and other riches, but disappeared while exploring the monastic cellars. A servant left with the horses told wild stories of many-tentacled things rising out of the ruins with the adventurers struggling in their grasp. Other adventuring bands went out to the ruins of the House of the Binder (as the monastery was known), but came back empty-handed. The cellars had fallen in, and there was no trace of spellbooks, adventurers, or any monsters beyond all-too-numerous trolls.
The rubbery skinned menaces took over the hold for some years, until they grew so strong as to imperil all use of the trade road. A great war band was whelmed in Amn to deal with them under the leadership of one Kheldrivver, a warrior-turned-swordseller who promised to sweep the area clear of trolls and keep it that way. He did so, and transformed the House into a stonewalled cluster of fortress-like, stone-turreted homes, with slate roofs. As little as possible was made of wood so that fire could be used with enthusiasm in the event of troll attacks. The community became home to a few mercenary warriors who wished to retire. Under Kheldrivver’s leadership, they gave protection and dry, guarded warehouses to farmers wishing to settle in the area. Many times since then the trolls have been hurled back, and Kheldrivver’s Hold, which over the years has become known just as Kheldrivver, remains a farming center today, visited by many enterprising merchants who sell the splendors of far-off places and buy fresh produce for sale in Waterdeep and the cities of the Sword Coast. Kheldrivver himself disappeared mysteriously soon after the rebuilding of the monastery. Locals whisper that he was definitely digging alone in some of the deeper local cellars, in search of whatever monks’ treasure might remain, and most folk believe he found something and then something else found him.
Local legend now speaks of him being seen only by night, with stag’s antlers growing from his head! There are pits, walled off corners, and stone piles in many cellars in Kheldrivver. Most folk don’t speak of them, while others let adventurers go down into their own cellars in return for fees of 50 gold pieces or more. While certain village people may be getting rich on this, so far no adventurers have returned from the cellars anymore wealthy than when they went in.
Roaringshore
This isolated village nestles in a small deepwater cove on the coast about a third of the way south from the mouth of the Winding Water toward the city of Baldur’s Gate. Like Lathtarl’s Lantern (see that entry), this is a pirate hold, but unlike the Lantern, the reputation of bold, lawless Roaringshore has spread far up and down the length of the Sword Coast. Though such tales have grown in the telling, this is still a place raided at least once summer by mercenary armies of 70 or more lancers or horse archers, hired by Amn and Baldur’s Gate. As a result, prominent folk and businesses here tend to be (literally!) short-lived. Even so, two establishments of note have lasted long enough to garner well-deserved reputations: the Swordarm and the Broken Goblet. The traveler should be aware that many pirates here are runaways, local thieves, and adventurers all out to make an impression, and perhaps attract some business as mercenary hirelings. A lot of posing goes on. This can make Roaringshore a very dangerous place for the visitor who isn’t in a large, well-armed group, or obviously powerful. I had to flee it abruptly, but I did manage to learn the details about the two main attractions first.
The Goblet
When pirates and lawless folk come to brawl and carouse, their first thought is to roll into the Goblet. swords drawn, and swagger as they promenade along the raised entry dais and down toward the bar. It’s the place to be seen, and the place to be killed in, if the body count of the last few years is any indication. Don’t go here unless you’re very good with a blade, alert, have a lot of well-armed friends with you, and are protected against poisons. A spell such as ironguard(which renders one immune to metal bladed weapons for a time) is an ideal protection here, but beware, this place is strongly warded, and the defenses permit only existing defensive spells to continue. Newly cast spells are twisted and lost, without effect. The defenses also whisk all missiles (hurled glasses, daggers, darts, bolts, and arrows alike) up into gentle contact with the ceiling. This prevents broken glasses, for drink is served here in ornately carved and blown glasses, some of which are exquisitely beautiful, and rather more of which are simply rude. There are constant rumors that the staff and ownership of the Goblet are not human, and consist of beings far more deadly than the doppleganger “wenches”. Most folk believe that some fell power runs the tavern. Its wardings are certainly strong, and spells have been deflected from them that hurled back or slew large mercenary attacking forces sent to cleanse or raid Roaringshore. (Those bearing a ward token can cast spells within the tavern.) The truth, according to one Harper I spoke with, is that … Volo, ye can be so prudent sometimes it amazes me still. Just avoid the tavern and ye will be fine - Elminster
The Swordarm
You’d expect the only inn in a pirate hold regularly rocked by brawls and open fighting in the streets, and often raided by mercenary armies, too, to be a crumbling, filthy, vermin-infested ruin of a place, on the verge of falling down. Well, the Swordarm was, until a powerful evil wizard decided to make it an investment. He devised a mysterious spell of great power that entrapped his three apprentices, binding them in a mystic web of forces linked to the old stone-and-timber inn building. Their life forces hold the inn together and convert spells cast within it into raw power that binds together and repairs the place, and makes guests safe from hostile spells. The unfortunate apprentices can be seen to this very day, two young men and a young woman clad in dusty, dangling tatters of robes, floating face-down near the ceiling of the lobby and staring down in frozen, endless horror at folk who pass below. After they were trapped, their captor and master, the mage Aulyntar Cowlsar, pierced the walls with many new windows, added an ornate balcony and hanging staircase, and cut a pool now full of hot tingling waters into the floor of the lobby. (This pool would be a delight to bathe in were it not for the continuous feeling of being watched, due to the unfortunate apprentices, no doubt.) These changes probably mean that should anything befall the apprentices, the Swordarm will undoubtedly collapse. Until then, it’s quite an impressive place.
The Swordarm has housed many powerful and dangerous pirates and adventurers over the years. They have come to expect, and depend on, a place that is clean, quiet, and safe. On the rare occasions when guests have offered violence to anyone, swift and sure spells (presumably those of Aulyntar, who prefers to remain unseen) have lashed out to end the matter, usually by destroying the belligerent guest, although there have been some reports of such individuals being teleported abruptly into the depths of far-off Skullport, beneath Waterdeep, or the heart of the jungles of Chult, or into the midst of Icewind Dale. So this inn has become a neutral meeting place for deadly enemies, uneasy rivals, and swaggering folk-of-danger alike. If guests intend to do business together, however, they tend to arrange to meet elsewhere, no one is free of the feeling that Aulyntar or his frozen apprentices are always watching and listening. Some folk are so sensitive to this feeling that they cannot stay in the inn for more than a few breaths. On the other hand, it is the safest haven in Roaringshore, unless one is a wizard. There are several tales of mage guests disappearing here over the years.