Background & Environment: A goblin fishing hamlet located in the center of a vast and fetid swampland, Rotbottom considers itself to be a haven for outcasts, scoundrels and the unsociably odd. Rotbottom is a ramshackle place, built of salvaged wood and stolen nails, and against all odds operates under a spirit of optimism despite the overwhelming sense of decay. The people there are ramshackle too, the many goblin families accepting and even adopting those found monstrous or maligned by other settlements.Â
Mood & Themes: Moral degeneracy and acceptance, the entire settlement is âthe wrong side of townâ.Â
Despite Rotbottom being ostensibly lawless, someone has to prevent the all the malcontents from terrorizing the innocent fisher folk and instituting some kind of stabbing based hierarchy of thugs. Thatâs where bugbear Thumbscrews McThunk comes in. Thumbscrews ( or âScrewsâ to his friends) is the settlements self appointed enforcer of the common good, Maintaining that order in a place like Rotbottom is about three things: 1) Respect, 2) Kindness 3) Gutting anyone who doesnât respect you alive and hanging them out by their noodly-bits over the dockside to send a message. McThunk has recently been laid up in a brawl with a local gang interested in throwing their weight around and heâs willing to pay the party to do some legwork ( read: kneebreaking) for him. Doing so will not only net the party some coin, but respect around Rotbottom for outsiders such as themselves.
Aside from the goblins and other wretches who trawl the swampâs waters netting and spearing as they please, the biggest employer in Rotbottom is the Wiggleworm Distillery: an industrious operation that produces a number of uniquely gobbish goods and hawks them all along the waterways of the swamp. Easy to spot by its hook & worm branding and mismatched chimneys belching foul miasmas out over the already polluted lake, the distillery spends each day producing bottles of rotgut, wormwood heavy absinthe , and a surprisingly artisanal selection of spirits distilled from the local root/berry/algae species. Frozen out by more ârespectableâ rivals in towns outside the swamp, Wiggleworm is happy supply the players as bootleggers, with the intention of creating a public demand for their products to use as leverage in future trade negations.Â
Castigated and exiled after delving into heretical knowledge, an occult scholar has made a begrudging home in Rotbottom, residing in a skeletal wooden tower as far away from the villageâs stink as they can. Willing to trade spellcasting services for coin and civilized comforts, the occultist can also send the party on numerous missions in the hopes of gaining enough power to âmake those fools rue the dayâŠ. (yada yada)â. Regardless, they pay well, and if their attempts at revenge donât end up causing the end of days, theyâre sure to be entertaining to watch.
In an effort to curb street violence (and have something more interesting to bet on) The Rotbottom chamber of commerce has introduced the âRotbottom Bugball Leagueâ, a completely fictitious sports bracket for a competition they made up in the moment. Rules are fluid, but generally involve two (or more) teams trying to move a ball down a dock, jetty or quay thatâs been roped off for the event. As if the game needed any more chaotic elements, the ball itself is infact an oversized woodlouse native to the area, which after being thoroughly tenderized by numerous kicks and slams is to be devoured by the victorious team.
Anyone around Rotbottom can tell you that Catfish Cait is the most trustworthy of riverguides. Unlike most who come to the hamlet, Cait isnât a criminal at all, and simply grew up in the swamp and loves ferrying people through it on her proudly maintained skiff. An old hand at avoiding beasts, robbers, and the shifting banks of the fen, its supprising that Cait hasnât been seen in some weeks. Folk are starting to worry, as even though they might be a town of cutthroats and outcasts, the people of Rotbottom have hearts, and truly do care for their own.
As a fishing community, respect in Rotbottom is often held by the one who can bag the biggest whopper, though thereâs lot of debates as to whether or not that solely applies to fish. Those with a desire for acceptance and a lax regard for fishing & game law could put themselves on the path of crocodiles, dire catfish, the king of the bullywugs or even a legendary kelpie thatâs said to haunt the surrounding swamp. Provided they can hook the beast or spin a good enough yarn, one could get quite the adulation among Rotbottomâs populace.Â
