Story
Solcanum greeted them with heat, noise, and the smell of too many lives packed too tightly together.
The moment the crew stepped off the Blue Marlin and onto the stone pier, the shouting began. Hawkers lined the docks like gulls around a carcass, calling out promises in thick imperial accents. A man waved scrolls over his head, shouting that he sold the only accurate maps of Necropolis, guaranteed success or refund, though his ink was still wet. Another held up bronze trinkets, calling them gold relics from the heart of the ruins. Another sold slaves, claimed to be the fastest and most experienced runners, yet they only looked starved and scared.
Slaves marched past in a chain line, carrying crates toward a warehouse with a painted mural of the Emperor. Their handler shouted at them to keep pace. A auctioneer stood beside a raised platform, displaying a pair of youths with the pride of a horse trader. No one looked twice, chains were as common as sandals.
The main street rose from the harbor in a long, sun drenched slope. White stone buildings climbed both sides, polished bright to impress newcomers. Columns gleamed. Banners fluttered. It looked regal until one listened closely. Every wall had someone leaning against it with a gambling cup. Every doorway had someone whispering about quick coin, fast treasure, or the ruins that waited just beyond the horizon.
Adventurers strutted by in mismatched armor, bragging loudly about how deep they would venture and how rich they would return. Locals watched them with flat eyes, the kind that had seen too many hopeful fools go out and never come back. One old man muttered as they passed that the city made more money off graves than heroes.
Music drifted from a nearby tavern, bright and desperate, accompanied by laughter that sounded a little too forced. A brothel across the street marked itself with red lanterns and nearly naked slaves waiting by the door. Above them, a golden mask mural promised luck to those who touched it. A dirty man paid for admission with a golden amulet from Necropolis.
Further up the road, an arena loomed, its gates open for the afternoon matches. The roar of the crowd echoed against stone walls. Posters outside advertised fighters captured from distant lands, animals dragged from Imperial pits, and condemned thieves with a final chance to entertain. A vendor near the entrance sold roasted skewers and souvenir tokens stamped with the arena's crest.
All around, the city pulsed with movement. Hope mixed with greed. Opportunity with cruelty. Treasure hunters with slavers. Gold dust with blood stains.
Solcanum did not hide what it was. It celebrated it.
A city built on the promise that someone, somewhere, might strike fortune in Necropolis.
A city built on the certainty that most never would.
And as the crew walked deeper into its streets, they felt the weight of eyes on them. Some curious. Some calculating. Some cold.
There was weight in the air as they walked. Not heat. Not dust. Opportunity. It clung to the skin like sweat, and it smelled faintly of desperation.

Moments for Setting the Mood

Here is a list of short, ready to use moments you can drop anywhere as the crew walks through Solcanum. Each is designed to be quick, punchy, and atmospheric, giving you tools to portray the city’s bustle, cruelty, humor, and opportunism. Some target specific crew members so they feel the city reacting to them.

When a crew member's reaction is described, it is the assumed reaction if it is a NPC. If played by a player, let the player decide. It's also possible, in some cases, to replace the crew member with another as needed.

Use any number of these. Scatter them like street noise.

The Guide

A young man offers to guide them through Necropolis for a price. It's a trap, and as soon as they are out of sight from Solcanum, his friends will ambush them and try to rob them.

A Shouted Gamble

A crowd surrounds a makeshift gambling table where a man rolls bone dice carved with strange symbols. He claims they were taken from Necropolis itself. When a local loses and protests, the dealer’s guards drag him into an alley for “clarification of rules.”

A Young Hopeful

A teenager no older than Nera approaches the crew with a wooden spear and mismatched armor. He asks if they are going to Necropolis and begs for advice on where to search for treasure. His mother watches from a stall nearby, expression torn between pride and dread.

A Fake Miracle Cure

A vendor sells “night wards,” tiny bottles of scented oil that supposedly protect against Necropolis death. He demonstrates by pouring one on a rat. The rat sneezes, runs, and the crowd cheers. The bottles stink of cheap perfume.

A Slave Auction Interruption

As the crew passes, an auctioneer shouts bids for a chain of exhausted slaves advertised as “seasoned ruin runners.” One collapses. The auctioneer curses and kicks dust over him, promising discounts if someone buys the entire lot.

Yasmira’s Annoyance

A street cook tries to lure the crew with exaggerated gestures and claims he serves legendary Necropolis stew. Yasmira takes one sniff, mutters something sharp in Zarhalemi, and walks away. The cook is deeply offended and starts shouting about “foreign culinary sabotage.”

Amaxia’s Shadow

A brothel madam approach the crew, noticing that they seem to have money. She offers various delights, including exotics and chained enemies of the Empire. Every taste can be catered to, no limits, as long as they have the silver. Amaxia is not likely to take this well.

They don't know this yet, but the madam is Livia Licentius, wife of Varro Licentius they will meet later.

Cassandra’s Tension

A group of Imperial officers pass by laughing. One calls out teasingly to a dancing slave in the street. Cassandra stiffens. Her breathing turns shallow. She forces herself to keep walking. Anyone paying attention sees the moment hit her hard.

Galenor’s Delight

Galenor stops dead in front of a junk stall and begins digging through piles of gears, rods, and broken compass parts. The vendor explains loudly how each piece is a priceless relic, and Galenor laughs so hard tears form.

Shaedra’s Discomfort

A peddler offers “trophies” taken from the wild tribes beyond the Empire, including furs and carved bone. Shaedra recognizes one carving style from her homeland. Her jaw tightens.

A Returned Adventurer

A man limps down the street with his arm in a bloody sling, bragging loudly about his brush with fortune. Two locals follow him, tracking the pouch on his belt with hungry eyes. They pretend to be impressed. They are waiting for the right corner.

The Golden Mask Trick

Performers dressed in shimmering cloth reenact “The Last Stand of the Mask Bearer,” a dramatized story of a hero lost in Necropolis. It is melodramatic nonsense. The crowd loves it. Meanwhile, pickpockets stalk the audience.

Nasheem’s Charm

A merchant assumes Nasheem is a minor noble and tries to flatter him into buying an overpriced gilded dagger. Nasheem plays along for a moment, then turns the conversation around, casually exposing every lie in the pitch. The merchant deflates like a punctured wineskin.

The Arena Roar

The doors of the arena open briefly as chained prisoners are carted in. One of the chained men calls for help.

A Rumor Monger

A shabby old man tries to sell the crew information about “the secret heart of Necropolis.” He claims the Empire fears what lies below. He might be lying. He might not be.

Pickpocket Encounter

A child tries to cut Pelonias’s purse. Pelonias catches the wrist gently, looks the child in the eye, and simply says “Try someone slower.” The child blushes, nods, and flees.

A Dying Hope

Outside a pawn shop, a woman clutches a single artifact in both hands, whispering prayers that it will be genuine. The shopkeeper tests it, shakes his head, and offers a single copper. She crumples.

The Runaway Runners

A pair of starved youths sprint down the street with a slaver in pursuit. The slaver shouts that they stole from him. The boys shout they are being dragged to Necropolis tomorrow and would rather die on the street.

The chase barrels toward the crew.

Choices:

• Step aside. The slaver catches them.
• Block the slaver. He threatens legal trouble.
• Help the boys hide. The slaver calls other handlers.
• Confront all involved and risk drawing attention from the city watch.

The boys are not lying. Their wrists are bruised with fresh shackles.

The Rigged Demonstration

A merchant displays a massive metal chest, claiming he alone has discovered how to lock items against Necropolis nightfall. He invites adventurers to test it.

A volunteer climbs inside. The lid shuts. A helper taps three times to show the man is alive.

Then silence.

The merchant panics and fumbles the keys.

A crowd forms. Some laugh. Some place bets on whether the volunteer suffocated. Some urge the crew to open the chest by force.

Inside, the volunteer is alive and terrified. The chest is just poorly built.

The Whispered Legend

An old woman beckons the crew into the shade of her faded awning. She offers to tell them a story for a single copper. Her voice is raspy, theatrical, almost hypnotic.

She spins a tale about:

A door in Necropolis that opens only at sunset.

A figure seen walking the roofs at night without being taken.

A treasure buried beneath a statue of a woman holding a broken spear.

Half her details contradict each other. Some details eerily match what the crew experienced.

If pressed, she admits she has never entered the ruins. She just repeats what desperate people have whispered to her for years.

The Broken Performer

A street performer tries to juggle bronze spheres stamped with the mark of Necropolis. His hands shake too badly to keep the rhythm. The crowd jeers. Someone throws a stone.

He drops the spheres and they roll toward the crew.

If someone picks them up, the performer flinches away like he expects a blow.

If spoken to gently, he explains he once escaped the ruins by daylight but lost his entire group. The spheres belonged to them.

He begs the crew not to enter Necropolis.

The Tax Collector’s Trap

A man wearing a half uniform and a smug smile stops the crew, claiming they owe a city entry tax. The fee is outrageous.

• If challenged, he insists he has authority.
• If ignored, he loudly accuses them of fraud.
• If someone pays, he pockets the silver and vanishes into the crowd.

Later, another official appears, confused, asking why the crew paid a nonexistent tax.

This can become a small chase or investigation or a simple annoyance.

The Lost Child

A child no older than eight clings to a statue pedestal, crying. She cannot find her mother. The crowd ignores her.

If the crew helps, she leads them through twisting alleys to a tattered tenement. Her mother is inside, panicked and furious with worry. She thanks the crew with a handful of almonds, the only food she has.

As they turn to leave, they spot a man watching the tenement, counting the children who come and go. He is a slaver scouting new supply.

The Arena’s Aftermath

A procession leaves the arena carrying a stretcher with a wounded fighter. His ribs are crushed. His handler argues with an arena official about compensation. The handler insists the fighter is still alive. The official insists the man is dead and therefore the prize money is forfeit.

The handler asks the crew to help witness that the fighter is alive. The fighter gurgles faintly, then goes still.

The official smirks. The handler breaks down.

The Necropolis Gloaters

A group of triumphant adventurers parade through the street, showing off their loot. Crowds gather around them. One brags loudly that they made it all the way to the second ring. Another claims they fought shadows with flaming swords.

A local leans in and whispers to the crew.

“They are lying. They bought that loot from the pawn stalls yesterday.”

He is right.

The Sleeper’s Warning

A man sleeps on a bench clutching a battered lantern. When the crew walks past, he jerks awake and grabs Scarnax’s sleeve.

“Do not stay past dusk. It wakes up. It always wakes up.”

He smells of fear more than drink.

Before anyone can ask questions, he passes out again.

Leaving for Necropolis