Wilderness
Dangerous
Squalid prices
Crooked Tadpole Buoy
the raft bar above the drowned shrine
The buoy rocks with a slow, patient menace. Reeds and fetid steam seep up between rotting planks; the air is thick with the sour tang of swamp rot and the metallic bite of old offerings. Lanterns in jars cast sickly yellow circles, and the raftsmen shout over skittering frogs and the occasional scraping from below—something larger brushing the temple stones. Patrons lean on salt-caked barrels, trading rough coin and whispered maps; mud-splattered fishermen, a trio of quiet treasure-divers, and a nervous courier whose pack is wrapped in oilcloth. Every so often the raft creaks toward the tether, and the world tilts enough that mugs slosh over and a chorus of curses follows.
A warped wooden buoy lashed to a splintered post, painted with a grinning tadpole; the paint is salt-peeled and a length of old rope hangs from it like a tongue
Grem Pew
Lizardfolk
Manner
Quirk
Stats
Tide Warden's Bitter
5 spA rum-forward concoction with smoked eel oil and crushed swamp seeds; it clears the head and dulls cold down to the bone—drinkers feel steadier on rocking decks and gain advantage on one Athletics or Acrobatics check to stay aboard during a storm (once, lasts an hour).
Squalid (5e lifestyle: about 1 sp a day)
Nettle · barmaid
A wiry woman with a netted sleeve who moves between tables balancing jars of lamp oil and the stronger drinks, never staying long in one place.
Crookjaw · bouncer
A scarred river-orc whose smile shows more teeth than manners; he breaks fights with a thump and a basin of cold swamp water.
Tin-Drip · cook
An old halfling with a soot-blackened hat who fries swamp grub in a pan the size of a lid and insists every meal has 'just a pinch' of something secret.
Mara of the Ropes
A hardened diver who insists she knows the safe path into the sunken temple and wants someone reckless enough to go with her.
Brenk the Mapmonger
A one-eyed trader who collects torn maps and will trade a precise corridor sketch of the temple for a flask and a favor.
Old Silt
A mute fisherman who sits at the prow, staring into the water—rumor says he once saw the idol and now counts days by the tides.
1
The drowned shrine's central idol—called the Black Mouth—still speaks in whispers to those who hold its waterlogged reliquary, according to Brenk the Mapmonger.
2
Mara of the Ropes says a stone corridor under the temple opens only at low moon and leads to a chamber filled with jars that move on their own.
3
Old Silt was seen rowing out with a covered crate last tide; folks at the Buoy claim he took it to an old mangrove marked on his palm.
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