The Alliance of the Crimson Tunic
At the end of the narrow winding streets and alleyways of downtown Terpinhagen on the edge of the town sits the townhouse of former ally Torbin. It looks old but well kept with two visible stories, the second of which is larger than the first, leering over the street like much of Terpinhagen’s architecture. There is a bit of a yard adjacent to the building, surrounded by a tall brick wall, topped with iron bars. Above the doorway swings a wooden sign featuring what looks like a crudely-painted red shirt.
Verily, this is the headquarters for the freelance adventuring organization known as the Alliance of the Crimson Tunic, famed defenders of Terpinhagen.
The Ground Floor:
The ground floor of the famed headquarters of the Alliance of the Crimson Tunic looks spacious yet cozy, and there is that a certain pressure on the soul from the force of the personalities which reside here. Once inside the entryway, the house opens up into a magnificent main room, past which is a hallway. The hallway has two doors on each side, and it terminates at a series of mostly straight stairs on opposite sides, descending to the left and ascending to the right.
In the left door is found the pantry. The cupboards are empty, the cabinets are bare. A lone woven basket vibrates with arcane energies, and is still.
Across from the pantry is the lavatory. Available are common accoutrements such as two large sinks and a sizeable bathtub that can fit two medium-sized folk comfortably. There are two stalls available, each featuring a rather uncommon accoutrement: a white porcelain ring, the size and shape of large a dinner plate, resting on a sturdy wooden chair. The area ensconced by the ring ripples slightly, and through it can be seen a roiling, inky black abyss. These are PooPortals™, the product of a joint effort between the prominent continental Janitorial Guild and Sorcerer’s Guild. The PooPortal™ is a portable conduit to a dimensional plane primarily composed of excrement and other unsavory waste, allowing easy and environmentally-conscious disposal of small amounts of unwanted materials.
The Second Floor:
Here resides Brendan and Kalhevki’s rooms, as well as a number of other disused rooms awaiting heroes to fill them.
The carpeted wooden stairs give way to carpeted stone stairs as one descends into the basement and enters another world. Here, the smell of dwarven valor permeates the very air, a combination of alcoholic spirits, pipesmoke, and the telltale odor of stalwartness. Davekian runes are chipped into the walls of this one-time wine cellar, with evidence of new stonework forming distinctly dwarf-sized rooms where once were only the occasional dividing wall. There is a hallway here which branches off into four different rooms. Near the door nearest the stairway, the runes grow thicker, leading up to the door itself; an iron-reinforced behemoth which sports numerous locks and deadbolts and an emblem of Moradin. Opposite this, is a stately oaken door. Further down is a fairly non-descript door, opposite another door with a lightning bolt. Outside of this latter door are two large oaken kegs, filled to the brim with water.
The locked door belongs to Grundin. Once the massively thick door is unlocked and heaved open, the contents of the room are exposed. Against the far and right wall are a simple bed, a stout armor stand, a table, and a stack of barrels stamped with Furin’s insignia. On the table is a candle, a thick tome, and various beard-care utensils.
On the opposite wall is the countenance of Moradin himself. His eyes are red like the forge, and the carven stone appears as if flesh. He looks down on those before him in a patriarchal way. Glowing braziers to either side of this altar reflect in those great eyes. Those not of the faith feel anything from vague disquiet to gripping religious terror in this presence.
Behind the oaken door lies an obviously dwarven-engineered hydroponics laboratory. Entering this room assaults one’s nostrils with a multitude of earthy, organic smells. Four rows of tables line this room, each bathed in a pool of golden light produced by strange, mirror apparatuses built into holes in the upper walls and ceiling. Trays are set up on top of each of the tables, and all are connected via a series of tubes and clockwork to a curious magical amalgamation of plant-feed and water-supply. It operates with a faint, steady clicking sound, and an hourly burbling of fresh water.
A cursory glance over the trays reveals some exotic plants; clumps of embermoss, fronds of gigglyfruit, and several shoots of a plant with a singularly soothing aroma. Among other trays are many staples of the dwarven diet.
This is a nice, spacious yard. Here is a shrine dedicated to the Raven Queen, as well as a weathered tent. Near the tent there is a patch of earth displaying signs of digging. The smell in that area is of feces and ozone.