Scotley
Hero
RG OOC: Recruiting
You step off the boat in Saltmarsh. Not much of a town to look at, but there seem to be a lot of people about moving with purpose. The smell of the nearby swamp mixed with the salty fishy smell of the harbor and stired up by the slow moving Kingfisher river doesn't fill you with hope. Your mind springs unbidden to the two letters you recieved a fortnight ago from Saltmarsh Sendings. The first was from Ambrose Wythwindle. It seemed upbeat and excited he was on the trail of a great find deep in the Hool Marshes in southern Keoland. He needed competent help to get to the root of a historical mystery and almost as an afterthought he mentioned a great treasure and the dangers. The old rogue's confident excitement made the second letter, dated three days later, but arriving to you at the same time, all the more shocking.
It was from J. Murdle Markman, Esquire. Saltmarsh, Keoland.
'I regret to inform you of the demise of Ambrose Wythwindle, who died of a swamp fever and old age yesterday here in Saltmarsh. I have been appointed executor of his Will and you are listed in the Will. Professor Wythwindle has asked that you attend the reading of the Will as you are named in the Will and a portion of his estate is to be given to you. The reading of the Will is to take place on Water day the 19th of Reeping, 592. Please present yourself no later than twelve noon on the 19th at The Lizard's Boat Tavern. The reading of the Will is set for 1:30 pm and that extra time is to be used to establish your identity as set forth in the Will.'
And now it is the afternoon of the 18th of Reeping and you find youself a new arival in a new town after a long journey. You see a nearby tavern, but it does not appear to be the Lizard's Boat. A sign above the door shows a grossly exaggerated satyr with one of his hoofed feet jammed into his mouth and an expression of shock and worry on his face. Other travelers mill about not sure where to go next, but most gather their things set off with a destination in mind.
You step off the boat in Saltmarsh. Not much of a town to look at, but there seem to be a lot of people about moving with purpose. The smell of the nearby swamp mixed with the salty fishy smell of the harbor and stired up by the slow moving Kingfisher river doesn't fill you with hope. Your mind springs unbidden to the two letters you recieved a fortnight ago from Saltmarsh Sendings. The first was from Ambrose Wythwindle. It seemed upbeat and excited he was on the trail of a great find deep in the Hool Marshes in southern Keoland. He needed competent help to get to the root of a historical mystery and almost as an afterthought he mentioned a great treasure and the dangers. The old rogue's confident excitement made the second letter, dated three days later, but arriving to you at the same time, all the more shocking.
It was from J. Murdle Markman, Esquire. Saltmarsh, Keoland.
'I regret to inform you of the demise of Ambrose Wythwindle, who died of a swamp fever and old age yesterday here in Saltmarsh. I have been appointed executor of his Will and you are listed in the Will. Professor Wythwindle has asked that you attend the reading of the Will as you are named in the Will and a portion of his estate is to be given to you. The reading of the Will is to take place on Water day the 19th of Reeping, 592. Please present yourself no later than twelve noon on the 19th at The Lizard's Boat Tavern. The reading of the Will is set for 1:30 pm and that extra time is to be used to establish your identity as set forth in the Will.'
And now it is the afternoon of the 18th of Reeping and you find youself a new arival in a new town after a long journey. You see a nearby tavern, but it does not appear to be the Lizard's Boat. A sign above the door shows a grossly exaggerated satyr with one of his hoofed feet jammed into his mouth and an expression of shock and worry on his face. Other travelers mill about not sure where to go next, but most gather their things set off with a destination in mind.
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