For the Love of Treasure/Main Page
For the Love of Treasure
A group of adventurers band together…for the love of treasure!
The large and prosperous trading town of Titan’s Fork stands at a fork in the swift-flowing Great-Barrier River. Flowing west from the Giantholm Mountains, the river splits into the Gracewater, running south-east to the feudal kingdoms of the Pennant Fields, and the River Forestgard, running north-east to the great port city of Hermetica and the ocean. The cold Great Barrier River marks the boundary of civilization. Beyond it, the forests stretch away as far as the eye can see. The forest itself is too full of monsters to be of any use, even to woodcutters, and sailors and fisherfolk are careful never to land on that side of the river.
The Serpent’s Head Tavern has long been a favorite haunt of mercenaries and sell-swords, in town to find work guarding the trade ships, or resting and healing between adventures.
The bottom floor is mostly taken up by a large open room with a high ceiling and a massive open firepit, on which roasts a whole ox on a spit. The air is a babble of loud talk, boasting and laughter, as adventurers swap tall stories and plot their next moves. The air is warm and filled with the scent of roasting meats and strong spices. Mounted in pride of place on the wall opposite the door is the stuffed head of a great green reptile, three feet long, with glittering eyes of red glass. Other mounted heads include a bear, a wolf, and what looks to be an antlered deer with rows of six-inch fangs, the mouth open and ready to bite.
By the bar stands a colorfully dressed minstrel with a lyre, singing a spirited ballad about a knight questing to slay a monstrous fish who swallowed his true love. The chorus goes, “O wicked fish! O slime-grown fish! O fish of foulest fame!...” Two muscular dwarves at the bar are locked motionless in an arm-wrestling match, their braided beards slowly soaking up spilled ale from the table. A small group gather around a table, cards in hand. The stacked silvers make clear that gambling is in progress. At a table by himself, a huge, muscled man, clad in a bearskin around his waist and covered in bright tattoos, studies the crowd, scowling. Standing on the bar, a diminutive man, six inches high, is on his hands and knees, puking his little guts out.
Characters
