About This Adventure
In the bustling trade-city of Marrowfen, where the river splits the old stone wards from the newer merchant spires, a discreet upper floor above a perfume importer houses the offices of *The Velvet Ledger*—a slim, gold-edged periodical sold only by subscription to nobles, archmages, and coin-heavy adventurers who prefer their pleasures catalogued with the same rigor as vintage wines. For four weeks your companions have returned from distant caravanserais and coastal pleasure-isles with ink-stained fingers, heavy purses, and the languid swagger of people paid handsomely to sample the exotic. They banter over late dinners about heated dens and living groves far from home, sliding freshly printed review sheets across the table like treasure maps, until finally the editor’s courier arrives with a local commission: the city’s own Crimson Quay district has opened a new “Enclave Wing” catering to rarer clientele, and the *Ledger* needs fresh eyes on its Lamia coil-houses, Dryad arboretums, Weretiger lairs, and River Nymph grottoes before the wealthy subscriptions renew. Tonight the lanterns along the quay are already lit in shades of amber and deep green; scented steam rises from hidden courtyards; a madam’s embossed invitation rests in your pocket beside a fresh notebook and a vial of the standard warding tonic. Your friends wait at the district’s wrought-iron arch, grinning, ready to show you which door leads where—and which first review might prove the whole enterprise was never too good to be true after all.
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