<strong>Characters in this adventure: Leo, Brannock, Rosalie, Sora, OPEN</strong><br/><br/><div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/8/8d/NLGerradNPC.jpg)</div>It was just before noon when one of the Grand Burgher's men stood at the City Forum and made the pronouncement.  "The Grand Burgher, in his desire to be welcoming and kind to all and not just those under his merciful rule, has decreed that aid and comfort is to be sent to Ironmote.  Three fortnights ago they were victim of a landslide that damaged many of their farms, but also opened an abandoned mine populated by the most vile of kobolds which have cruelly raided their outlying affairs.  To whomever returns to the Grand Burgher the grateful declaration of Ironmote's mayor that this menace has been crushed, the Grand Burgher, in his overflowing generosity, will award one-hundred gold per name contained there within!  Such group shall have salvage and discovery rights as well"<br/><br/>Word spread quickly throughout Starfall, reaching the usual places including the Last Light Pub just off the docks.  It is a damp, rundown place but boasts cheap ale and wine, warm food and a right supply of ladies to keep sailors and passers-through warm from the cool sea breeze at night.  There the owner, a novice historian named Gerrad, smiles as hears the news, making his way through the drunken crowd to each of you in turn, tapping your shoulder and telling you he knows of something that might be of interest to you, pointing to one of the storerooms at the rear.  You see one or two others enter after he reaches the door and unlocks it, but by the time you enter, you see that he's already fumbling through his papers, muttering about trying to find a map and finally, with a joyous noise, he smiles brightly.  "Here it is."<br/><br/>He lays it out, an old map of the Northern Borderlands, as the lands were called a hundred years before.  Moving his glasses from the tip of his nose, his finger runs along the thick paper on the northward-marked end until he smiles again.  "Ironmote."  Pulling another scroll of paper from his bag, he sets it down and pins it with two stones.  "It was once an old dwarven mine and foundry, but about two generations ago they allowed some gnomes and human refugees to settle there with them.  Its principle export is iron... I guess that's why they named it that..." he cracked, the bad joke barely drawing a laugh from the others in the room.  "Anyway.   I heard rumors about something going on there, so that's why I'm prepared.  There's going to be a lot of people heading that way, but I can help you.  There's an old trade road that ran along the bog but after some floods, part of it became impassable for heavier caravans.  After that, it just fell out of style and all the modern maps don't even show it anymore.  If you have this, you could cut almost a week from your trip..." he teases, pulling another piece of scrolled paper and holding it out, but not open.<br/><br/>"Ten gold upon your success and its yours.  Deal?" he asks, looking at each one of you.  "I mean, unless you want to force march your way up there."