TN Large City
Corruption +4, Crime +4, Economy +6, Law -4, Lore +5, Society +2
Qualities
academic, prosperous, strategic location
Danger 10
Danger 10
Demographics
Government Secret Society (Silver Fangs)
Population 11,053
(4,089 humans, 2,210 halflings, 1,989 elves, 1,102 dwarves, 1663 other)
Notable NPCs
Mayor Bedric Wilfrod (LN halfling aristocrat 3)
Father Kisran (NE human cult leader mesmerist 6)
Tathan Longhook, Head Librarian (TN dwarf expert 5)
Marketplace
Base Value 11,200
gp; Purchase Limit 75,000 gp; Spellcasting 6th
Minor Items 4d4; Medium Items 3d4; Major Items 2d4
The largest city in the known regions of Sylvanor, Whaleden rose to prominence entirely by happenstance. One of the first of the Sylvanor colonies, it was founded as a whaling settlement. Today it is the single largest trading port on the continent.
A Happy Accident
For the first decade Whaleden managed to sustain itself off of whaling as well as the trade from groups stopping before making their way further inland, typically along the White-Crest River. Most of the oils that they harvested were shipped back to the Green Coast, while the meat was eaten and provided a significant portion of the whalers' diet. The bones were largely seen as useless, but with little else to do they began carving pictures and images into the bones.
This changed when a Glastig nobleman found a carved whalebone trinket depicting various sea monsters amongst a box of rendered whale oil. He was so impressed by the workmanship that he demanded more. The whalers of Whaleden didn't know who had carved the scrimshaw piece, it was one of the many pieces they carved and then forgot about. Undaunted, the whalers collected all of the odd bones that they had previously cast off and began carving elaborate images into them.
The scrimshaw sold like wildfire. A year after the first trinket brought notice to Whaleden demand for the city's scrimshaw resulted in a boom in the small port's economy and population as countless amateur carvers made their way to Whaleden in a scrimshaw gold rush. While the demand tapered off with the rise of the hobgoblins, it didn't go away and several scrimshaw guilds exist to this day.
Silver Teeth
Unknown to all but a handful, the leaders of Whaleden are puppets to a cult called the Silver Fangs. Worshiping the demon lord Lekorch, the Silver Fangs have chosen to adopt a more subtle and secretive method than several of their fellows. They do not engage in the sacrifice of humanoids, as it eventually draws unnecessary attention. Their focus is instead on politics and gold.
They took advantage of the rush for scrimshaw to whisper in the ears of then and current mayor. Every decision that he makes is only made with their approval. They used the need for scrimshaw to amass a vast fortune by selling the knives, chisels, and other tools. Using the vast resources available to them, they determine Whaleden's fate.
With their position as the gateway from northern Sylvanor to the rest of the world, they have a hand in a darker, hidden export: beasts and monsters. Hunters are paid vast amounts to capture live specimens of the strange creatures native to the cold land that are then shipped to interested buyers in the Green Coast. A significant number of these shipments are sent to the gladiator rings of the hobgoblins through intermediaries.
Plot Hooks
A Happy Accident
For the first decade Whaleden managed to sustain itself off of whaling as well as the trade from groups stopping before making their way further inland, typically along the White-Crest River. Most of the oils that they harvested were shipped back to the Green Coast, while the meat was eaten and provided a significant portion of the whalers' diet. The bones were largely seen as useless, but with little else to do they began carving pictures and images into the bones.
This changed when a Glastig nobleman found a carved whalebone trinket depicting various sea monsters amongst a box of rendered whale oil. He was so impressed by the workmanship that he demanded more. The whalers of Whaleden didn't know who had carved the scrimshaw piece, it was one of the many pieces they carved and then forgot about. Undaunted, the whalers collected all of the odd bones that they had previously cast off and began carving elaborate images into them.
The scrimshaw sold like wildfire. A year after the first trinket brought notice to Whaleden demand for the city's scrimshaw resulted in a boom in the small port's economy and population as countless amateur carvers made their way to Whaleden in a scrimshaw gold rush. While the demand tapered off with the rise of the hobgoblins, it didn't go away and several scrimshaw guilds exist to this day.
Silver Teeth
Unknown to all but a handful, the leaders of Whaleden are puppets to a cult called the Silver Fangs. Worshiping the demon lord Lekorch, the Silver Fangs have chosen to adopt a more subtle and secretive method than several of their fellows. They do not engage in the sacrifice of humanoids, as it eventually draws unnecessary attention. Their focus is instead on politics and gold.
They took advantage of the rush for scrimshaw to whisper in the ears of then and current mayor. Every decision that he makes is only made with their approval. They used the need for scrimshaw to amass a vast fortune by selling the knives, chisels, and other tools. Using the vast resources available to them, they determine Whaleden's fate.
With their position as the gateway from northern Sylvanor to the rest of the world, they have a hand in a darker, hidden export: beasts and monsters. Hunters are paid vast amounts to capture live specimens of the strange creatures native to the cold land that are then shipped to interested buyers in the Green Coast. A significant number of these shipments are sent to the gladiator rings of the hobgoblins through intermediaries.
Plot Hooks
- The party arrives in Whaleden for the annual Scrimshaw Festival. Stands in the market square sell foods hailing from throughout the Green Coast and Sylvanor while countless games are held.
- Townsfolk have been whispering of strange sounds coming from an old warehouse. Of flickering lights and sounds not unlike chanting. Perhaps a cult?
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