Seldom Spring

Never Winter, Seldom Spring

Introduction: This document establishes a small settlement in the Sword Coast

region. It is a support document for the Seldom Spring series of adventures.

A place to rest between adventures

by Barry Dore

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logos are trademarks of Wizards of the Coast in the USA and other countries. This work contains material that is copyright Wizards of the Coast and/or other authors. Such material is used with permission
under the Community Content Agreement for Dungeon Masters Guild. All other original material in this work is copyright 2019 by Barry Dore and published under the Community Content Agreement for
Dungeon Masters Guild.

Not for resale. Permission granted to print or photocopy this document for personal use only. Seldom Spring 1
Seldom Spring
It was no ship-wrecking leviathan, but it left its mark
nonetheless.
—Dirk Seldom
Introduction
This document establishes the small settlement known
as Seldom Spring, including the inn of the same name.
It is intended to provide a resting place between
adventures and a source of future quests.
The exact location of Seldom Spring is left to the DM,
but midway between Neverwinter and Luskan is a good
fit.
Seldom Spring
With a welcoming hot spring at its heart, this small
settlement has swiftly grown in popularity since its
founding by retired adventurer Dirk Seldom.
With the construction of an inn, trading post, and
hunting lodge, it provides the essential services required
by most travelers far from home.
Indeed, some caravans have halved their journey by
trading at Seldom Spring, instead of their original
destination, and business is booming.
Growth seems inevitable, but for now the settlement
remains small and vibrant.
The Seldom Spring
The Seldom Spring is a large inn, barely a year old,
built close to the hot spring from which it takes its
name. It was established by its proprietor, Dirk Seldom.
Its well-lit common room is a warm and hospitable
place, with no private booths or shadowy corners.
Numerous tables and chairs are provided for its patrons,
with food and drinks delivered from the kitchen on
request. A small stage offers a place for traveling
performers to work their trade, and the walls are
adorned with an eclectic range of trophies and
keepsakes.
The inn also boasts a decent stable, comfortable
bedrooms of varying size and quality, and of course, the
spring itself.
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Dirk Seldom, Proprietor
The hugely popular founder of Seldom Spring, Dirk
Seldom is a retired adventurer of simple upbringing, for
whom the thrill of the escapade was its own reward. He
grew up in Waterdeep's busy Dock Ward, and briefly
served in the Church of Lathander, but his heart yearned
to explore and adventure.
With the questing life now behind him, Dirk lives the
classic adventurer's dream of running his own inn. He
remains a true adventurer's paragon. As a long-term
party leader, multi-classed combatant and veteran of
countless expeditions, his wealth of experience is
considerable. He remains keenly enthusiastic about the
adventuring life and is only too happy to share his tales
with any who will listen.
Brunthor Kettlegrip, Cook
Hailing from Citadel Adbar, Brunthor is a proud shield
dwarf and retired paladin. He finished his many years of
service in Dirk's company, and still bears the scars to
show for it. The right side of his face is heavily burnt,
the damage barely missing his eye, and his left leg has
been replaced by a metal substitute from the knee down.
For one who once swore an oath of vengeance, and lost
much in fulfilling that oath, Brunthor remains
remarkably good humored, for a dwarf.
Though his appearance may give customers pause,
Brunthor is actually a fine cook, for it is in this duty that
he follows his family traditions.
Jambiya, Waitress
Jambiya is a goblin maid, possessed of such grace and
beauty as is normally reserved for the fairest of the fey.
She was only an infant, captive among orcs, when Dirk
and Brunthor found her, but she has quickly grown into
a striking young woman. With her disarming
personality and a penchant for playful mischief, she is a
firm favorite among even the most intolerant of patrons.
With expert tutelage from a very early age, Jambiya
was already an accomplished adventurer by the time she
reached adulthood, at the age of eight.
Beloved by both her adoptive parents and now a full ten
years old, Jambiya is a beacon of warmth and joy,
shining brightly in defiance of those who would cast all
humanoids as twisted and evil. Perhaps she is touched
by fey blood or divine grace. Nobody really knows, but
none can dispute her considerable charm.
Seldom Spring 2
Staff
Additional staff assist with the running of the inn, but they
come and go almost as often as the caravans that pass
through Seldom Spring.
Many struggle with the realities of living in such a remote
location, while some can't abide playing second fiddle to a
goblin, and others are inspired by Dirk's tales to set off on
their own adventure.
Regulars
The following characters are among the most regular
visitors to Seldom Spring.
Anafrey Iceriver, Huntress
Anafrey is an Illuskan woman with an acute fondness
for ale. She typically sleeps in the wilderness, hunting
only enough to feed herself and to cover the cost of her
drinking.
Few would consider her civilized company, but she's a
friendly enough drinking companion, especially when
someone else is paying.
Ekemos
This mysterious tiefling is a regular patron of the inn,
though he never stays the night and is never seen
entering or leaving the settlement.
He has a fondness for wine, in moderation, and for
games of skill and intellect, at which he excels.
Erric Hillfall, Aspiring Bard
Erric is a young lightfoot halfling with a fondness for
music and dance, and a growing romantic obsession
with Jambiya. He regularly leaves to prove his worth,
only to return before reaching his destination.
Juglut, Scout
This middle-aged half-orc is a skilled woodsman and
expert scout. He spends his days close to Seldom
Spring, ever-vigilant for potential threats to the
settlement.
When entering Seldom Spring, he typically avoids the
inn. Although he has been shown no ill will by anyone
therein, he is aware of their troubled history with orcs
and does not wish to cause them needless discomfort.
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The Welcome Exchange
Formerly known as Seldom Trading, the Welcome
Exchange is Seldom Spring's general store. It stocks a
diverse collection of mundane supplies, adventuring
gear, and an ever-changing selection of arms and armor.
Kul'ra, Proprietor
Kul'ra is a dragonborn male of bronze ancestry. He is
unusually short for one of his kind, but is stout and
hardy nonetheless. Though he names no clan as his
own, Kul'ra is fiercely loyal to his friends, and even to
favored customers.
Kul'ra took over from the original owner, who left when
Seldom Trading proved to be a prophetic name for the
store. Business has improved dramatically since then,
thanks to the dragonborn's fair and generous nature, and
his willingness to trade with any who come in peace.
Aseid, Assistant
Kul'ra is assisted by a young Calishite male named
Aseid. Though somewhat naive, Aseid is a keen and
honest worker. He is also a capable swordsman.
Aseid fled his homeland after accidentally joining a
malevolent cult, during what he perceived at the time to
be an elaborate initiation rite for the local militia. He
served as a caravan guard until his arrival in Seldom
Spring, and has worked for Kul'ra ever since.
Hunting Lodge
This large wooden cabin serves as a warm retreat for
the hunters and trappers of the region. Though it houses
only one permanent resident, many others consider it
home, and several such regulars can be found here as
often as not.
Maldorn Whitehare, Caretaker
Maldorn is a retired trapper of Tethyrian descent.
Though born and raised in Yartar, he held no love for
the fortified town and left as soon as he came of age.
Never looking back, he spent most of his adult life in
and around Neverwinter Wood, becoming an expert at
living off the land. Now in his twilight years, he serves
as custodian of the hunting lodge.
Despite a lifetime spent largely in solitude, Maldorn can
be an extremely talkative fellow. He is particularly
happy to share his expertise as a trapper, discuss
wilderness survival techniques, or reminisce about his
time in the wilds.
Seldom Spring 3
The Tales of Seldom Spring
The following are a collection of tales relating to the
past exploits of Dirk Seldom and the many companions
that have joined him on his adventures over the years.
Each tale is tied to one of the numerous relics that adorn
the walls of his inn's common room.
As well as adding flavor to the location, these tales pave
the way for future adventures, as detailed in the Seldom
Spring series.
The Dwarven Boot
“Enjoy your meal.”
Jambiya delivers the words with lyrical perfection, spins on
her heel, and glides away to her next customer. The goblin
is such a delightful enigma. So unfathomably vibrant and
beautiful.
“A fine specimen to be sure,” declares Dirk, prompting
nods of agreement as you continue to watch the waitress
depart.
“Magical,” he continues, drawing quiet consensus.
“And a fine example of dwarven craftsmanship,” he
concludes.
Noting your look of confusion, he motions to the wall,
where a single sturdy boot has pride of place above the fire.
“Alas, it's not much use on its own,” he claims, falling
briefly silent in contemplation.
Turning to your meal, you dig in enthusiastically, enjoying
every tasty morsel.
“Much was lost on that expedition,” announces Dirk, just
when you'd almost forgotten he was there.
“But we recovered the most wonderful treasure of all,” he
continues, his gaze directing you back to the young goblin.
“To think that we found her in an orc's cauldron,” he says
with a chuckle, and with that he departs on another errand.
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The Sundered Helmet
“A minotaur,” declares Dirk Seldom, dragging you from
your thoughts.
He places a wooden tray on the edge of your table and
reaches for an empty flagon. Noting your apparent
confusion, he gestures toward a sundered helmet, mounted
like a trophy on the nearby wall.
“You were probably wondering what could have struck
such a powerful blow,” he suggests, proceeding to clear
your table as he speaks.
He pauses for a moment, his gaze returning to the helmet.
“Alas, poor Radyard fared no better.”
Releasing a gentle sigh, he continues his impromptu tale.
“It was many years ago now. Radyard was a keen young
warrior. Though he lacked my experience, he made up for it
with fearless enthusiasm.”
“I had discovered the location of an ancient vault in
Calimshan and gathered a party to uncover its secrets.”
Dirk motions towards Brunthor, who appears as if on cue.
“Brunthor was with us, I think for the first time,” he
announces with a smile.
“That I was,” confirms the dwarven cook as he trudges past,
his metallic foot releasing a tortured squeal with every step.
“Yes,” Dirk continues. “There was also Hanjo, our nimble-
fingered halfling friend, and Daratin, the party wizard.”
A grunt of disdain breaks Dirk's flow and the hiss of spit
meeting flame as Brunthor sends his regards to whichever
god resides within the inn's welcoming hearth.
“Daratin did not leave us on the best of terms,” Dirk admits,
“but at the time he was a valued member of our party.”
“As for Radyard, he left us rather too abruptly,” Dirk
concludes, sighing once again.
His story seemingly at an end, he lifts the wooden tray and
departs for the kitchen.
Seldom Spring 4
The Elven Lute
“No, you can't buy the lute,” declares Dirk, conversing with
an immaculately dressed elven woman.
“I know it's an elven lute,” he continues, “but it holds great
sentimental value for me.”
The elven woman looks up, drawing your gaze to a finely
crafted instrument on the wall above her, stamps her foot,
and walks off in a huff.
Dirk shakes his head and wanders over to your table.
“It belonged to Caelynn,” he informs you, in an
uncharacteristically sad voice, taking a seat before
continuing.
“She was a bard, like her mother, but the lute is all she had
to remember her by. Being a half-elf, she was sent away
with her human father. They settled in Waterdeep.”
“Caelynn was a member of my first expedition. Together
with Daratin, Hanjo, Rossele, and I.”
“We took passage on a ship exploring the Sea of Swords.
The captain was an eccentric with an interest in bugs, so
while he searched remote islands for rare breeds of insect,
we would scour them for hidden treasure.”
“We had lots of fun, but little success, and eventually it was
time to head home.”
He pauses for a moment, turning his gaze back to the lute
on the wall.
“But alas, the fun was not to last,” he continues, a single
tear running down his cheek.
“The ship was beset by a tentacled sea monster, just one
day out from port.”
“It was no ship-wrecking leviathan, but it left its mark
nonetheless.”
“Caelynn was dragged overboard and lost forever, her lute
left floating in her wake,” he concludes with a trembling
voice.
Dirk sighs aloud and rises from his chair, silently bidding
you farewell before departing to the kitchen.
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The Scarlet Shield
“So who did this belong to?” asks Dirk, pointing to a scarlet
colored shield mounted on the wall.
Caught off guard by the sudden question, you struggle to
respond, only for the answer to be given for you.
“It belonged to your dear friend Rossele,” replies Jambiya,
her voice a fine blend of compassion and triumph.
Though barely visible behind a high-backed chair, she is
clearly stood in front of Dirk, and the true target of the
question.
“Correct,” replies Dirk, “so what's her story?”
Jambiya flashes a glance in your direction. Noting that she
has an audience, she vaults onto the chair to present herself
to the room. Clearing her throat and speaking in lyrical
tones, she recites her tale.
“Rossele was a childhood friend from Waterdeep.”
“After your early sea voyage, she became focused on
defense, replacing her light weapons with a sturdy shield
and knightly blade.”
“You recruited a couple of dwarven rangers to bolster your
party and joined the fight to liberate Neverwinter from all
kinds of evil.”
“You hunted wererats in the sewers, and orcs in the streets,
shining the renewing light of Lathander before you.”
“Your battles were glorious and victories many. But alas,
all good things must end, even the life of a friend.”
“Rossele could not accept that, so she gave her life to save
yours. She died a valiant hero.”
“Though her sacrifice ensured your victory, you had no
choice but to bury her where she fell.”
“Then you took up her shield and fought your way to
safety. The end.”
Brunthor is stood by the door to the kitchen.
“That the short version?” he asks with a grin. “I like it.”
Seldom Spring 5
The Feathered Hat
“A beholder?” scoffs a patron at a nearby table, “you've
never fought a beholder!”
Dirk raises his hands and shakes his head, replying loud
enough that all can hear.
“I never said I fought a beholder, only that I met one.”
Turning to indicate a feathered hat on the wall he continues.
“This, my friends, is all that remains of poor Hanjo, who
came to a very sudden and complete end, reduced to dust by
the beholder in question.”
As the room falls quiet, Dirk clears his throat and proceeds
to recount the fateful encounter.
“For those of you unacquainted with the deadly beholder,
they are fearsome floating abominations, spherical in form
and covered in eyes.”
“We had entered a vault believed to house the treasures of
esteemed Illuskan heroes, Raman and Grath Turntide.”
“Within this vault a puzzle blocked our path, with a
beholder floating beyond, observing our progress.”
“This beholder was quite talkative, even polite, but made it
very clear that if we tried to cheat our way past the puzzle,
there would be consequences.”
“Now Hanjo was a fine-fingered halfling with a knack for
disarming traps, but on this occasion it was a skill that cost
him dear.”
“Believing our host's warning to be an indication of such
traps, he stooped to examine them before anyone could
intercede.”
“Alas, that was not the beholder's intention at all. A ray of
light flashed from one of the creature's many eyes, and in
an instant, Hanjo was gone.”
Quiet murmurs fill the room as Dirk finishes his tale.
“His hat began to tumble from his head, just at the moment
of disintegration, and now it hangs here on the wall as a
reminder to us all.”
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The Raccoon Mask
“I swear that thing still smells,” declares Dirk as he passes
Jambiya.
“Well it sure isn't me,” replies the goblin cheerfully.
Noting your interest, Dirk stops at your table and turns to
point at a raccoon mask hung on the wall nearby.
“It belonged to a young gnomish cleric with whom we were
briefly acquainted,” he informs you.
Stopping to collect his thoughts, he slowly continues.
“He served Baervan Wildwanderer, I believe. That's their
god of the woodlands. Oh yes, his name was Acorn.”
“Now gnomes and goblins don't really mix as a rule, but
this fellow was pleasant enough.”
“Mad too!” pipes in Jambiya with a grin.
“Well yes,” Dirk continues, “I'll come to that.”
“This was a few years back when Jambiya was new to
adventuring and we needed a low-threat environment for
her to practice in.”
“With this in mind, it seemed like a good time to recruit a
new healer as well, so we encouraged Acorn to tag along.”
“Now troglodytes are loathsome creatures with vicious
claws and an odor as foul as their temperament.”
“They can pose a danger to remote outposts, but are of little
concern to experienced adventurers, so when we heard of a
marauding band in the vicinity, it seemed like an ideal
target for our fledgling members to test their mettle on.”
“Unfortunately, Acorn's madness came to the fore as soon
as battle was joined. Before we knew what was happening,
he had scrambled into the fray on all fours, mimicking the
raccoon embodied by his mask.”
“In truth, had we not been so focused on Jambiya's safety,
we may have been able to save the little chap, but alas, we
did not.”
Dirk sighs and continues on his way.
Seldom Spring 6
The Wooden Doll
It's quite busy in the common room, but you notice that
Jambiya has stopped to gaze at an old wooden doll hanging
on the wall.
“Refills?” asks Dirk Seldom, suddenly at your side with a
pitcher of ale.
As he starts pouring, he also begins to tell a tale.
“She could barely stand when we found her,” he says,
motioning toward the cherished goblin.
“The Ripped Beard tribe didn't just attack dwarves and
humans. They raided goblins too.”
“We believe they killed Jambiya's parents and took her
among their prisoners.”
“Thankfully, there was one among them who took pity on
her and sheltered her from his bloodthirsty kin.”
“She called him Da-Pa,” Dirk continues with a smile,
“though I doubt that was his real name.”
“He was the largest orc I've ever seen, and had a huge mess
of alarming ginger hair!”
“Yet he was as gentle as any orc you could hope to meet.”
“I believe he was a cook, of all things.”
Jambiya turns in your direction, her broad smile brightening
the common room.
“Da-Pa!” she shouts gleefully, to the clear confusion of
several less attentive patrons.
“That was her only childhood possession,” Dirk continues,
pointing to the doll, “aside from a dirty loincloth.”
“Fine orcish craftsmanship,” adds Brunthor cheerily, as he
passes with a tray of empties.
Dirk smiles and silently bids you farewell.
Proceeding to the next table, he soon starts reciting another
familiar tale for his latest audience.
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The Tavern Sign
As you savor the first bite of your meal, you are disturbed
by a sudden nearby rattling sound, followed by the clatter
of a wooden object hitting the floor.
“Sorry,” cries Dirk Seldom, who rushes to retrieve the
fallen object.
He turns it in his hands to present it to you.
“Its an old tavern sign,” he declares, holding up a painted
board depicting a writhing mass of black tentacles above
the name Hadar's Arms.
“It's possessed!” announces Jambiya gleefully from behind
you, raising an amused smile from Dirk.
“Actually, it's all that's left of the tavern,” explains Dirk.
“Before Jambiya was fully grown, my old friend Daratin
took the final plunge into madness, kidnapping her and
spiriting her away.”
“He was scary,” adds Jambiya.
“What possessed him to do it, I can only guess,” Dirk
continues, “but Brunthor and I soon tracked him down.”
“He had holed up in a tavern run by a retired warlock, if
there is such a thing, which was frequented by all manner
of disreputable magicians.”
“It wasn't long before things got out of control,” he says
with a grimace, looking down at the sign in his hands.
“We retrieved Jambiya unharmed, but Daratin escaped,
Brunthor picked up some nasty burns, and this is all that
remained of the tavern by the time we were finished.”
He turns and stretches to mount the sign back on the wall.
“I keep it as a reminder,” he concludes.
“And as a trophy!” adds Jambiya, smiling brightly as she
applauds her adoptive parent.
With a final clap of her hands, she spins on the spot and
heads off to welcome some fresh customers.
Seldom Spring 7