About the TownEdit
Brindol is a bustling, diverse city-state, encompassing the eponymous city and a large swath of farmland, roads, forests and rivers. The city itselt is located at the site of a major crossroads, the junction of the Khast Peninsula's two most important trade routes: the Old Highway, an ancient road spanning the breadth of the peninsula from coast to coast; and the Ferrinac River, a mighty waterway flowing north to south, nearly the entire length of the peninsula.
Kingdoms and Nations have come and gone, and some two hundred years ago the last glorious Empire shattered, leaving behind a patchwork confederation of city-states and principalities strewn over not merely the Khast Peninsula, but well into the Great Northern Continent above. Between the last remaining strongholds, civilization has all but collapsed. Savage beasts and dark powers roam at will beyond the boundaries of the local principates, at times even breaching the walls of the holdouts.
The First NightEdit
Even Brindol, once a peaceful halfling fishing town and now a bastion of hope for the races of the Ferrinac Valley, is not safe from the dangers that lurk outside its borders. For whatever reasons, you have all sought shelter and respite in the ale halls and inns of Brindol. Fate, it seems, has brought your motley band of adventurers together in the heat of battle, as marauding hobgoblins wreak havoc in the streets of Brindol. The glow of fires light the warm summer night, and the sounds of shouting, metal clashing and the occasional explosion rend the air. Amid calls for help in the familiar tongues of the civilized races, battlecries in harsh common and goblin speech can be heard: "For Sinruth! For the Red Hand!"
Volunteers on the city's makeshift fire brigade have their hands full this night; the sluice gates are open and the water pumps are running non-stop as brave citizens of Brindol attempt to quell the last of the hobgoblins' arsony. The bar you had frequented is, sadly, much the worse for wear. While the fire is out, a good portion of its walls are charred and smoking. A small band of townsfolk and guards are dragging the mangled bodies of the hobgoblins and ogre you slew, heaping them on the conveniently provided cart for disposal.
Captain Evarr Wrex, as he introduces himself, congratulates you on a job well done. With hobgoblins striking at many points in the city, Brindol's guards were simply spread too thin. Runners are still bringing in reports from different quarters, but hit-and-run raid seems to be over as soon as it started.
The scarred dragonborn invites you to stay at the Thistle and Rose, an upscale inn a mere block from the city's Keep. He urges you to drink well and get a good nights sleep, for tomorrow at dawn, calls will be going out to form a militia to hunt down the marauders. He also suggests that you may be interested in witnessing the interrogation of one of the captured hobgoblins, apparently a sargeant of the Red Hand, who lies unconscious in one of the Keep's holding cells. With that, he points the way to the Thistle and Rose before going on his way.