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- NPCs
	- [[Captain Griswald]]
- Shops
	- [[#Brownwater Tavern]]
	- [[#Herbert and Gherbert]]
	- General store
	- Smithy

> The air is heavy with the scent of salt and fish, mingled with the earthy aroma of rain-soaked stone. A light, persistent drizzle falls from the pewter sky.
> 
> **Slateford** is a maze of narrow, winding streets paved with smooth cobblestones. These roads, slick with ever-present rain, require a careful step, especially when the occasional gust of wind sends rainwater cascading from the eaves above. The buildings press close on either side, their upper stories seeming to lean towards each other.
> 
> The architecture is a hodgepodge of styles, unified by the omnipresent slate roofs that give the city its distinctive silhouette. Most structures serve dual purposes—the ground floors house an eclectic array of shops, taverns, and businesses, while the upper levels provide modest lodgings for the owners and their families. Colorful signs swing in the breeze, competing for attention.
> 
> The streets teem with life, weather-beaten sailors with sun-bleached hair rub shoulders with quick-fingered urchins darting through the crowd. Sharp-eyed merchants haggle with customers, their voices adding to the cacophony of street cries, snippets of sea shanties, and the occasional clash of steel from a mock duel or an all-too-real disagreement.
> 
> In the harbor, ships of all sizes and origins bob at anchor or tie up at weathered wooden docks. The waterfront is a hive of activity, with sailors unloading exotic cargoes, fishmongers hawking the day's catch, and grizzled captains seeking crew for their next voyage.

## Brownwater Tavern
The sign outside depicts a mug overflowing with murky liquid, swinging gently in the breeze. The faint sounds of laughter and clinking glasses drift from behind a sturdy oak door. This is the **Brownwater Tavern**, a local favorite known for its potent house brew and colorful patrons.

> As you push open the heavy oak door of the **Brownwater Tavern**, you're enveloped by a wall of sound, smell, and warmth that's a stark contrast to **Slateford**'s damp streets. The air is thick with the aroma of spilled ale, pipe smoke, and something vaguely fishy.
> 
> The tavern is larger than it appeared from outside, with a low-beamed ceiling and walls of dark wood that have soaked up decades of stories and secrets. Mismatched tables and chairs, some bearing scars from old brawls, are scattered throughout. In one corner, a group of grizzled sailors huddle over a game of dice, while nearby, a pair of merchants argue quietly over a contract.
> 
> The heart of the tavern is its long, polished bar, behind which stands an impressive array of bottles, kegs, and mysterious containers. The bartender, a burly half-orc with a surprisingly delicate touch, deftly pours drinks and keeps a watchful eye on the room. Several barmaids weave expertly through the bustle without losing a single drop from the mugs of ale they carry. 

## Herbert and Gherbert
Herbal sandwich shop. Serves cold sandwiches and slightly less cold sandwiches.