Kittenpom20
It was near dusk when the carriage finally made the rocky and bumpy trek from Rabican through to the frontier to stop at "The Last Chance Inn" -- the road ahead seemed to peel around back at itself as it headed due west back into the realms towards the city of Bagrada. To the north sheer cliffs of the Shadanar Salt-flats -- A barren land known mainly for it's orcish raiders -- and to the east the Wispmarches -- a foreboding swamp given a fearful name for the land was wild and untamed, a drowned land full of blackness and mud. THAT was where Cynna Fletcher, Cleric of Tritherion and Jodocus the Warm, her hulking bodyguard of a Knight were headed. It was rumored less than a day's walk through the swamp lay the dungeon hideout of Ivor the Mad -- a renegade sorcerer who from the fringes of civilization had been demonstrating slowly, to the unease of what little populace there was on the frontier, that he was up to no good.
Storms of green swirling lightning had begun days after Ivor himself passed through here on the way for some crumbling cave temple inside the marsh -- where he had made his lair, and more recently caused upset when it became obvious he was attracting and hiring a force of orcs and goblins to guard his domain in the swamp. Some said that even more recently his savage goons had begun looting the cemeteries on the frontier, taking bones and grave-goods alike for some other even darker purpose. It was at this point it was no longer just peasant stories about a strange man and the threat was taken seriously. Ivor was deemed an enemy of the city state of Rabican and now bore a bounty worthy of adventurers to hunt him. Cynna's god was a god of war, so her temple allowed her to take one of it's knight defenders as her personal guard and seek Ivor out.
The last chance in, in the twilight, looked like a happy and brightly lit boisterous tavern with a multiple story lodging squatting atop it almost precariously. Jovial music played and the fire from the torches about it and indeed the massive hearth from inside it spread into the dark and unwelcoming frontierlands all about it. A crowd of frontier fishermen, small groups of salt-miners, and local farmers had come to the Last Chance as they always did for a taste of levity in an otherwise unforgiving land. Cynna and Jodocus were strangers, but were well welcomed -- they were adventurers, and rumor had already spread from the carriage-folk to the Inn that they might be on the trail of Ivor.
The two would-be adventurers sat at the end of a long table with the great fireplace at their backs, a welcome chance from the wind and constant rain they'd suffered for hours in their carriage. Sinnis, the bartender and innkeeper introduced himself to them personally and said that adventurer's seeking to push back the frontier of hostiles "money was no good" here, that they would eat and drink free. A great but delicious swampfish was broiled and cut up for them, and beer and wine were ready on pour.
And so the adventure began. the adventurers could ask Sinnis for rumors and news, or they could attempt to get information from the miners and fishermen that caroused around them, most importantly they had to decide to stay the night at the Inn and head into the swamp at morning, or head into the swamp directly at nightfall...
It was near dusk when the carriage finally made the rocky and bumpy trek from Rabican through to the frontier to stop at "The Last Chance Inn" -- the road ahead seemed to peel around back at itself as it headed due west back into the realms towards the city of Bagrada. To the north sheer cliffs of the Shadanar Salt-flats -- A barren land known mainly for it's orcish raiders -- and to the east the Wispmarches -- a foreboding swamp given a fearful name for the land was wild and untamed, a drowned land full of blackness and mud. THAT was where Cynna Fletcher, Cleric of Tritherion and Jodocus the Warm, her hulking bodyguard of a Knight were headed. It was rumored less than a day's walk through the swamp lay the dungeon hideout of Ivor the Mad -- a renegade sorcerer who from the fringes of civilization had been demonstrating slowly, to the unease of what little populace there was on the frontier, that he was up to no good.
Storms of green swirling lightning had begun days after Ivor himself passed through here on the way for some crumbling cave temple inside the marsh -- where he had made his lair, and more recently caused upset when it became obvious he was attracting and hiring a force of orcs and goblins to guard his domain in the swamp. Some said that even more recently his savage goons had begun looting the cemeteries on the frontier, taking bones and grave-goods alike for some other even darker purpose. It was at this point it was no longer just peasant stories about a strange man and the threat was taken seriously. Ivor was deemed an enemy of the city state of Rabican and now bore a bounty worthy of adventurers to hunt him. Cynna's god was a god of war, so her temple allowed her to take one of it's knight defenders as her personal guard and seek Ivor out.
The last chance in, in the twilight, looked like a happy and brightly lit boisterous tavern with a multiple story lodging squatting atop it almost precariously. Jovial music played and the fire from the torches about it and indeed the massive hearth from inside it spread into the dark and unwelcoming frontierlands all about it. A crowd of frontier fishermen, small groups of salt-miners, and local farmers had come to the Last Chance as they always did for a taste of levity in an otherwise unforgiving land. Cynna and Jodocus were strangers, but were well welcomed -- they were adventurers, and rumor had already spread from the carriage-folk to the Inn that they might be on the trail of Ivor.
The two would-be adventurers sat at the end of a long table with the great fireplace at their backs, a welcome chance from the wind and constant rain they'd suffered for hours in their carriage. Sinnis, the bartender and innkeeper introduced himself to them personally and said that adventurer's seeking to push back the frontier of hostiles "money was no good" here, that they would eat and drink free. A great but delicious swampfish was broiled and cut up for them, and beer and wine were ready on pour.
And so the adventure began. the adventurers could ask Sinnis for rumors and news, or they could attempt to get information from the miners and fishermen that caroused around them, most importantly they had to decide to stay the night at the Inn and head into the swamp at morning, or head into the swamp directly at nightfall...