Green Silver Swan Inn
Rifllian, Grand Duchy of Karameikos
Dear Mr. Platerman,
Me old mate from seminary, Friar Ignatius, suggested I be reachin’ out t’ ye with a business opportunity. Ignatius has probably bored ye t’ tears with tales o’ me latest crew’s travails so I shan’t repeat t’ whole sordid yarn t’ ye. Suffice it to say we’s found a series o’ magical gates what’s capable o’ teleportin’ me and t’ lads t’ t’ most benighted places.
You’d think one o’ these gates would lead t’ a nice tap room like t’
Green Silver Swan, but alas no. They always leads t’ gloom and danger. Take t’ latest one for example. A great, bloody wizard’s tower infested with a gelatinous cube, elemental o’ fire and some fearsome flamin’ skull what doesn’t know when t’ die even after we pounded it t’ powder. Looted t’ place we did, so don’t get any ideas ye greedy little blighter. If ye ever does decide t’ pay it a visit make sure ye brin’s a scroll o’ fire protection along. Har!
After clearin’ out t’ tower betook our way west along a footpath we did. After a bit more than a day o’ travel (and somethin’ like a week o’ complainin’ by that nob sorcerer) we spied ourselves a little village lyin’ in t’ foothills o’ some northern continent mountain range. Ye’d think we earned a bit o’ rest, but no. T’ Kin’ in Yellow has other plans for us. We sees a great group o’ monsters decendin’ on t’ poor place. Hardly had time for an ale before we had t’ join t’ townsfolk in defense against a raidin’ party o’ gnolls and a hill giant.
Twas a brisk action I tells ye. We’d softened up that hill giant with some poison and a bolt from t’ town’s ballista. Me and a bear went toe-to-toe with t’ ugly bastard while t’ paladin tangled with t’ gnoll pack leader. Again, that ugly hobbit was nowhere t’ be found once that bear showed up, but t’ little one with six toes made a good accountin’ o’ hisself. Enjoyed watchin’ that gnoll play whack-a-mole with that smary half elf did I. Har! I even think t’ nob was blastin’ away with his devil spells. T’ townsfolk didn’t fair so well and a couple o’ t’ poor slobs ended up payin’ a visit t’ Davey Jones Locker. Commended their souls t’ Pyaray did I, but what with us bein’ so far from t’ sea I can’t fathom how they’ll be able t’ join his undead crew afore t’ end o’ t’ world…”
Brin’s us t’ me business proposal it does. This town, which had no name and I’ve since christened Gnollsford, be in dire need o’ an inn. And some trollops as well, accordin’ t’ that ugly hobbit. T’ only place servin’ ale charges an outrageous amount o’ doubloons – 2 gold for 5 mugs, can ye believe it? Now that t’ area be devoid o’ gnolls, methinks trade can be established. T’ forest nearby has some stout pines what would make fine masts for sailin’ vessels. Reckons does I that two percent o’ ye profits for t’ first five years would do me nicely. Donate it t’ t’ Church o’ Pyaray in me name in lieu o’ actual payment. Think on it hobbit and writes me if you agrees t’ me terms.
Black Jack Barcelona