The Dreadwood Tavern
They needed capital to get this Dreaded Bowl off the ground. Without money, they wouldn’t be able to pay for repairs, let alone attract customers. Of course, legal measures were scarce thanks to Aedou and her tax-Nazis. So there was really only one thing to do, the one thing that they’d all left for their own reasons: adventuring.
But where would they adventure? Soren had an idea, but he needed to find out more information. He tried to research in the bar while there were no guests, but that damn parrot came crashing in through the front door playing his pan pipes. He tried reading about the history of the Deadwood in the guest rooms, but they were short staffed and that bird came in squawking and carrying a pile of sheets. He tried to examine ancient treaties in his room – surely the lock could keep that bird out – but then crash! that Phaulkon-blessed bird smashed through the window.
He found some peace at last in the stables amid the hay. The horses wouldn’t shut up, but they were less annoying than that kleptomaniac. With his mind focussed, it was not long until he found it. There. All the sources corroborated. He charted it out on a map of the local area. Yes. Two days to the East, in the parts of the Dreadwood so deadly and dangerous that even the more imbecilic adventurers would never there venture, they would find it.
… Welcome to The Landship of The Sea Prince!
“I found it!” cried Soren.
“That’s very good for you, NEIGH-bour,” said the horse nearby.