PLACES OF NOTE
Within the rough boundaries of Falcon’s Hollow—where no two maps quite agree—lie a handful of notable locales. Each bears its own strange character, and each is stitched tightly into the patchwork soul of this doomed frontier town.


Goose’n’Gander
The local general store is operated by the only known gnome in the region, a sprightly, fast-talking fellow who goes by Brickasnurd Hildrinsock among humans. His true gnomish name is a convoluted string of syllables that could tie a scholar’s tongue in knots—utterable perhaps only by elder dragons or certain eccentric sages. The shop stocks everything from humble essentials like grain, lamp oil, and ink, to curious oddities such as alchemist’s fire, antitoxins, a petrified pseudo-dragon, and taxidermied nixies (currently all the rage on the Perch, despite whispered protests from local druids).


Hollow Tribunal
This squat stone hall serves as the so-called court of Falcon’s Hollow. Here, the halfling Magistrate Vamros Harg doles out licenses, stamps claims, and issues rulings with the grim efficiency of a butcher trimming fat. Justice in the Tribunal is rarely equitable; most townsfolk treat its name with bitter irony. Harg’s allegiance to Gavel Kreed is an open secret—spoken of only in hushed tones by those who value their tongues, and more importantly, their lives.


Jak’a’Napes
A leaning, creaking inn beside the town stables, Jak’a’Napes is a favorite stop for travelers, vagrants, and wayward adventurers. Its owner, the rotund and ever-jovial Jak Crimmy, is a retired bard with a bald head, a single stubborn tuft of bright red hair, and a flair for showmanship. His cinnamon-crusted flapjacks are the stuff of legend, and his nightly performances include juggling frying pans and executing impossible trick shots with a heavy crossbow. Jak smiles easily, but some say he’s seen more blood than he lets on.


Quinn’s Carnival
Set at the town’s edge, this whimsical wonderland runs on broken hearts and borrowed magic. Founded by half-elf Namdrin Quinn after the tragic death of his beloved wife Tess, the carnival dazzles the crowds by night with feats of acrobatics and illusion. But when the last torch is doused, Namdrin and his companions are rumored to consort with dark fey, whose wrath simmers over the lumber barons’ ceaseless defiling of the Vale. Some whisper that Quinn is a spy for the vengeful fae. Others claim he merely seeks revenge. Or maybe, as the more superstitious townsfolk claim, it’s just further proof that half-elves are an unnatural mistake.


The Rouge Lady
Don’t let the lace and lantern light fool you—this burlesque and gambling hall doubles as Falcon’s Hollow’s most notorious brothel. In the back rooms behind velvet drapes and perfumed corridors, anything can be bought for the right coin. The place is run by Kabran Bloodeye, whose name alone keeps most from asking too many questions. Disappearances tied to the Lady are common, but none dare investigate… at least, not twice.


The Sitting Duck
Perched a little too close to the palisade for comfort, the Sitting Duck is where foolhardy glory-hounds and half-mad explorers go to drink, fight, and die. It’s infamous for its house brew—a bitter, tar-dark ale made from fermented darkwood leaves that’s been known to floor ogres in three tankards or less. It’s also the site of frequent brawls, most of them spurred on by dangerous local games like “knivesies” and “mig-a-mug-tug”—pastimes with a high rate of maiming and no known rules. Bragging about what you’ve seen in the Vale can get you a round of drinks—or a dagger between the ribs.


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