Crossroads Overview

Crossroads is a settlement on the frontier of human habitation. Established in ancient ruins 9 years ago by Klar Stonehelm, self-proclaimed Prince of Crossroads.

It is a small, but growing, mostly wooden settlement built around the 40 foot high stone walls of Klar’s caravanserai/fortress. 

Crossroads is the principal settlement between the mountain dwarf kingdom to the North, the human settlement to the East, and the civilized city-states to the South. 

All the region around Crossroads is a mountainous, wooded, uninhabited wilderness of strange ruins, lost shrines, dangerous creatures, and treasures waiting to be discovered.

Dwellings & Permanent Residents

• Crazy Ethel: Old, female, human wizard of an impatient and quarrelous nature.

• Learned Creeg: an old scholar/sage, studying the region and its history.

• Lion’s Den Inn: Run by “Rude” Rudenaur. Great food & drink. Clean rooms.
  Food=sp, drink=2cp, common room=2sp, private room=1gp, Bath=1sp

• Fitzy: cheerful, hulking ex-bandit, now assistant cook & earnest baker.

• Wicker: handsome widow, brewer of ales, lagers, and the Crossroads Dark beer.

• Watchtower of the Rangers - quietly in league with Crazy Ethel

• Krane: tall, rangy, longbow, sword -- far traveled 

• Bowen: average size, tough, wise, missing his left arm.

• Mingo: half-orc, broadsword, spear - unpleasant looking, but loyal & friendly

• Hatchet Jack: Longbow, hatchets, knife

• Nibs: excitable apprentice ranger (16-18), longbow, long knife

• Caravanserai - rebuilt ancient fortress with extensive baths & storage below ground.

• Klar Stonehelm: half-orc, ex-pit fighter, dwarf-friend, protects his fort!

            A few of Klar’s twelve champions:

• Smalljon: dwarf fighter, scarred & experienced 

• The Bill: old guard, official counter & payment taker. Large & strong!

• Verna One-Eye: female ½ orc, left eye patch, strong, short-temper, battle axe.

• Yujan: Horse archer, saber, short & stocky, surprisingly high Dex.

• Azan the Youth: trained knight, noble background. Black hair, clean shaven.

• Trading Post: sells & buys. Chandler runs the place with Klar as a silent partner.

• Morrys: Blacksmith, Huge. Common work, simple weapons & repairs.

• Arlo the Ferryman: older, lean, avid fisherman.  Assisted by:

• Mikel & Mikal: twins who operate the ferry. 20s. Not bright, some common sense.

Information is the most valuable commodity in Crossroads. The primary goal of all the powers that be in and around Crossroads is taming the wilderness and growing the village by attracting new settlers, tradesmen, and craftsmen.

The Weeping Tower

“The Weeping Tower?” Kytun called the drunken captain's attention back to the matter at hand.

Radaam, captain of the Cormorant, stared at Kytun a moment, catching up. "Yes,” Radaam nodded.

“One of the southern bays of the isle?”

“Yes. Desolation Isle. Bloody well-named, piss-pot of an island,” Radaam chuckled, amusing himself. “Piss-pot Isle. That’s what I would have called it.”

“This bay.”

Radaam focused on Kytun. “The bay, yes. Treacherous. Reefs. Shifting shoals. Murderous eighteen-foot tide comes charging up your arse one minute, then drags you onto the rocks or beaches you on sand the next.”

Welcome to Desolation Isle

The wheezing middle-aged fat man carried a small wooden crate down the moss-covered stone quay. In the afternoon glare of the two suns reflecting off the water, people were debarking from a ship. The fat man set the crate down in the middle of the quay, climbed on top of it and straightened his thigh length, red leather vest. In combination with the short sword belted at his waist, his clothing was recognizable as a uniform of sorts.

The first of the refugees stopped as the fat man held his hands outstretched over his head, regaining his breath. Behind him, where the stones of the quay ran into street paving, stood a collection of tables laden with fruit, vegetables, crocks of butter, honey, loaves of bread, jugs and cups.

Beyond the quay and tables stood the rest of Midport. The town was built on atop and among the ruins of an ancient city, often using the old greenish stones for new structures. Broken walls and towers lay tumbled down hillsides and cliffs, parts of the stonework fallen beneath the waters of the harbor, evidence of some past cataclysm. On a clear day such as this, weed-covered remnants of the old city were visible in the depths.

“Greetings. My name is Sergeant Lugwort,” the fat man began.

The people gathered before him, dazed by the sunlight, the promise of food and the splendor of Midport. Or just numb and exhausted. It varied from group to group. Lugwort had seen examples of all. The Sergeant had long since stopped asking why he always drew welcome duty. This lot looked much the worse for the journey. Probably rough seas.