Saltmarsh

The Wicker Goat

Creaky old tavern that smells of sea brine, spilled ale, and fried squid.
Kurrid, slow-talking and heavy-lidded, runs the grill with practiced slowness. Claims something’s been stealing from the cellar—sacks torn, fish gone, salt untouched. Swears it’s not human. The cellar trapdoor is barred from the inside some nights.

Wheatsmill Manor

Dusty curtains, cracked medal cases, and a fire that’s always too low.
Ingo the Fifth drinks tea with shaking hands. Hides from his past in Twib, where his medals earned him both honor and enemies. Keeps close ties with Eliander, and his butler was once a royal interrogator.

Falconer Hut

Cliffside shack, smells of feathers, guano, and dried blood.
The falconer never blinks. Whispers to his birds in a forgotten tongue. Some claim he spies for the crown, others say he works for something worse. His birds never call when flying inland.

The Crabbery

Slick boardwalks, rusted cages, and the stink of crab guts.
Xolec, one-legged and twice as loud, hobbles between pots and traps. Watches the sea with a telescope fashioned from a narwhal tusk. Says his wife’s soul still calls from the deep.

Winthrop Mining Co.

Boot prints in iron dust, and the sour stench of ambition.
William Winthrop boasts of imperial contracts and steel rail lines that never quite appear. He keeps a private vault below the office and hires mercenaries “for ore escort.” No one's sure what they bring back.

Eliander’s House

Trim garden, faded war banners, and a saber always within arm’s reach.
Eliander writes strange letters by candlelight, sometimes burning them before they dry. He trains in old drills, naming each stance after a lost friend. Keeps a locked chest buried in the shed.

Saltmarsh Jail

Low hill, high walls, and heavy doors that groan at night.
Kraddok Stonehorn enforces law without question. The cellar is always damp and never truly silent. One cell is permanently sealed. The mason who bricked it shut vanished the next week.

Hoolwatch Tower

The first stone ever laid in Saltmarsh, still darker than the rest.
Town guards train here daily. The armory below creaks even when still, and the signal fire has never gone out—even during storms. Eliander watches it closely when tides are high.

Snapping Line Inn

Warped floorboards, chipped mugs, and beer that tastes of moss and regret.
Fishermen drink here. Sailors fight here. The infamous “Eel Brew” is black, warm, and wriggles if left unattended. A traveler once drank three—then tried to swim out to sea with a knife in his teeth.

Milrose Brewery

Stone barrels, a bitter tang in the air, and a cursed copper still.
The brewmaster, always blindfolded, swears he can see the truth in taste. One sealed barrel shudders during storms. No one remembers when they last opened the cellar—nor why it was sealed with salt.

Orphanage

Grey stone walls, crooked shutters, and muffled cries after curfew.
The Matron is fair, but her rules are carved into the doors. At night, lights flicker in the attic where no children sleep. Some say the orphans know to stay away. Others say they go there on purpose.

Smithery

The clang of iron, soot-black walls, and blades sharp enough to whisper.
The blacksmith signs in silence. His blades are perfectly balanced, always cold to the touch. Once forged an axe that split the anvil—and refused to make another.

Market

Salt-dried fish, carved bone trinkets, and too many eyes watching.
Daylight brings shouting and barter. At night, hushed voices trade poisons, charms, and blood-bought secrets. A locked stall in the corner only opens during the new moon.

Militia Training Grounds

Packed dirt, broken teeth, and ghost stories.
Recruits sweat under old mercenaries with grim eyes. Beneath the far corner post, bones lie in rows. No one speaks of them aloud, but the ground there never holds grass.

Mariners’ Hall

Salt-stained walls, creaking beams, and rope that smells of tar and blood.
Old sailors play dice and swap tales. One faded map in the back shows a reef that moves with the tide—and a name etched in red ink: Leviatha.

Mr. Kankles Carpentry

Cold sawdust, quiet humming, and a coffin half-finished in the back.
Kankles works alone. Measures twice, nails once, and finishes coffins before deaths are reported. No one’s ever seen him eat, and no one ever finds mistakes in his work.

Winston’s Store

Leaning shelves, locked cabinets, and something watching from the back.
Winston sells anything for the right price. If you ask for something rare, give him a night. His “boy” never speaks, never smiles, and always delivers before dawn.

Sea Grove

A circle of trees older than Saltmarsh, surrounded by whispering wind.
The druids gather silently before dawn. The grove is warm year-round, and the earth breathes slow beneath the moss. No birds enter the inner ring. No sounds escape it.