The town of Snifflehelm is rather aptly named, according to many who are unfortunate to wander within odor range. As the name goes, sniffling the inside of your own helmet is preferred to the pungent, bowels-of-the-seven-devils aroma that filters through the streets. Especially on MuttonMeal Mondays, a local delicacy1 of the only inn in town. Still, towns like this often have their charm in other areas. Snifflehelm for example, tends to be a surprisingly popular travel spot for adventurers. This is likely due to a few reasons:

  1. The town of Snifflehelm is so destitute, that the likelihood of being pillaged by bandits is virtually nil2.
  2. There is a rather bizarre belief among adventurers that the dingier the location, the more likely to be sent on a quest of epic proportion from a local3.
  3. It is the only town along the easy path through the Viltan Mountains from the port city of Elwat to the castle of Grindalon. Most travelers with more than a few copper to their name choose instead to spend the extra week it takes to travel along the coast, around the mountain range. Only those mentioned in the earlier points, or travelers with absolutely no other alternative travel through.

Town Buildings

  • Inn
  • Town Hall
  • Marketplace

Important People

  • TBD

1 The term “delicacy” usually refers to something that is only eaten by locals because they have to, and by locals because they “want to experience authenticity.” Anyone who says they enjoy a local delicacy can be immediately and accurately labeled a liar and an idiot; no intelligent person would even attempt to lie about such things.

2 Virtually, but not entirely. A group of bandits once raided the town, and were rather shocked to discover that they left with less gold than they had to start with.

3 This belief may not have been entirely on accident and coincidence. In fact, there were allegations that Hubris Baglasher, the tourism minister of Snifflehelm (the only person to ever hold this title, incidentally) had purposefully and intentionally spread propaganda including pre-paid town criers, church flyers, and a few cheat sheets to bartenders to boost tourism to the town. The allegations were dropped, however, when the town shops actually started to have a customer or two, and everyone stopped caring.


Good Omens AquaJew