At The Leafy Seadragon Inn, we partner with story masters who endeavor to bridge the divide between their desire to play and the preparation needed to fluidly guide a party of eager adventurers. Read More….
Welcome Brave Adventurer!
The Leafy Seadragon Inn is one of the oldest inns in the capital city of Shalannan. The Leafy Seadragon is a spot for weary travelers to find food, drink, and a bed. It is also a hot spot for rumor, tales of wonder, and the traveling minstrels. Here, more often than not, a plea for rescue, a harrowing tale of risk and reward, or a mundane errand for a venerated mage will emerge.
What happens after that is totally up to you!
Your Arrival in Shalannan
It is a windy winter day as you step off the ship at the merchant docks of Shalannan. Starting out in your expeditions, you couldn’t afford comfortable passage on a luxury ship but rather paid your way as a hand on the vessel that just docked. The air is cold and damp from the sea, but you can see a lush grove of trees up the hill, beyond a large stone wall.
Looking to your left you see a good sized inn with comforting smoke curling from the chimney. As you approach you can hear numerous conversations occurring inside and the occasional tones of a lyre and bardic melodies, some of which you recognize.
The Leafy Seadragon Inn
As you open the door every conversation stops and the weight of every patron’s eyes settles upon you. Behind the bar you can see a stunning woman of young age and full build; with a keen eye she assesses you.
You are then suddenly aware of the longbow and longsword on the wall behind her. She is absent mindedly toying with the hilt of a short sword slung at her waist. An inn this close to the wharves would be lax if they didn’t take a hard eye to a new patron.
As you raise your hands away from your weapons, her shoulders relax and her hand returns to the bar. “Hail, stranger, what brings you here?” You approach her responding honestly and quickly that you’ve just arrived on a recent ship and are looking for adventure, riches, and fame. You hear her chuckle and under her breath mutter “Aren’t they all…..”
“Alright then,” she says in a clear voice, “Why don’t you pull up a seat and enjoy the fire. Around here adventure, riches, and fame will find you; you don’t need to go looking for them!”
You find a seat at a table near the fireplace, order a meal and ale in exchange for a reasonable sum; lower than you would have expected from a dock-side establishment. In a short time half a chicken, a loaf of bread, and a full pint of hearty ale arrives. You settle in and allow the warmth of the fire, food, and drink to take hold.
A Dainty Flower
After a time, another patron wanders your way. You note a squattish individual with a full beard and a temperate smile. A gruff, yet feminine voice greets you stating that her name is “Flower”. You inquire, politely, as to what profession Flower ascribes to and her eyes flare, her neck thickens, and she retorts shortly “I. AM. A. BARD!” You apologize quickly for any offense as she turns her back to you and says “Let me know if you need anything; news, information, or tales. If I feel like it, I’ll see what I can do to accommodate you….”
Slightly flushed, you slink down in your chair and try to hide behind your tankard. About that time the young woman from earlier comes by your table, and this time provides an introduction.
“I apologize for the scene before, and a little for Flower; she’s a touch self conscious as I’m sure you understand any dwarf who chooses to sing for a living would be. By the by, my name is Amira Nyrond, owner and proprietor of this establishment. It looks like your tankard is empty, would you care for another?”
Afternoon Draws Long
The rest of the afternoon seems to pass quickly. Several other patrons drop by to “interview” you. They ask about your heritage, experience, and some pry a little deeper into your moral fortitude. As some depart your company you can tell that they are unimpressed. Others, however, seem to take note and bid you a “see you tomorrow then” as they wander back to their table.
Making New Friends
It is a quiet and calm late-afternoon when you hear the back door of the inn open and close. As the cold draft hits the nape of your neck you, now a patron of the inn yourself, conduct the customary assessment of the new entrant. You are alarmed and jump to your feet drawing your weapon, readying yourself for battle. As you prepare to charge, you notice that no one else appears the least bit flustered and has returned to their conversations.
It is only then that you realize Amira is conversing with.. with.. that thing. It must be almost 7′ tall, outweighs you by at least half again, and has shoulders so large you don’t know how it got through the door. Grayish skin and coarse black hair cover it’s body while coal black eyes, a smashed nose, and savage lower jaw tusks define the face. Realizing you still have your weapon unsheathed, you clumsily return it and try to take your seat again; still not taking your eyes off of that abomination.
Upon a word from Amira it turns its head towards you, gazing at you with those black… black eyes. It then lets out a deep hearty laugh and a grin breaks across that horrid face. She and it walk over to you and you begin to shake noticeably as they approach. Is this thing a creature that she keeps to off those she doesn’t like? Have I offended her in some way? “Oh Pelor,” you internalize, “I shouldn’t have had that third ale….”
As they draw to you the thing opens its mouth and speaks with a booming, somewhat garbled yet intelligible voice. It speaks only one word “Kronk!” Is this its battle cry? A challenge for combat? Is this what he says before he crushes someone by sitting on them?
Still tensed and ready to spring, looking side to side for an escape, your nerves are set at ease when Amira finally says “This is Kronk, our stable hand. He’s harmless, unless of course it is you that means to do harm.”
Night Falls
At the end of the day, you recount that you’ve met no fewer than seven other adventurers, the proprietress, the bard, and the… Kronk. This seems like a good place to set up shop and await the inevitable adventures that Amira alluded to. You pony up coin for week’s rent and climb the stairs, opening the door to your leased room. You find a rack for your weapons, a rack for your armor, a small chest, and a real bed.
Falling into it, the rest of this day you don’t remember.
A New Day Dawns
In the morning you awake, put on some traveling clothes and head down to the common room looking for something to eat, leaving your armor and weapons in your room. You are provided a decent meal of bread, cheese, and and egg. You settle in to consume it when suddenly the inn door that faces the docks is kicked open! Wood splinters and metal clangs.
Three ruffians enter. Drawn weapons and scowling faces prove to you that they aren’t here for a pint; they’re here for blood.
From behind the bar you hear Amira claiming her bow, a projectile being nocked and let fly; all in a blink of your eye. The lead intruder drops to the floor being felled by one expertly targeted arrow. The other two turn tail and run, their slain comrade dragging between them.
Amira jumps the bar, walks calmly across the common room, and moves to shut the door. “Damn, they broke the latch. Third time this month. Someone’s going to have to put a stop to this.”
