Princes of the Apocalypse
This former warehouse reeks with an eye-watering, throat-closing stench that obliterates all other smells within a bowshot of the place. Inside are stretching racks, cutting tables with sharp knives and scraps of tanned hide, a back room of finished leather ready for sale, and six huge, open-topped vats containing various foul-smelling, caustic liquids used in tanning.
The proprietor is Ulhro Luruth. He can’t smell a thing, thanks to years of working in tanneries. He and his five loyal, terse assistants live and work here.