Named for the triskelion of creeks that converge here, the borders of Trisk are generally accepted to be the Burning Bridge, the Bridge of Pyres, and the Gray Vale. Trisk has long been a dependent of the Final District, therefore falling under the dominion of King Lōth's odious lineage. Happily, Hill of Bones affairs rarely impact life along Underpyre Creek. Even when taxes are collected, an anonymous rag-robed figure in a deep cowl sits outside the Bock House with a tin can and a register of names. Though bandaged, the tax collector's hands have a distinct claw-like quality that sends shivers through the residents, and quells most protests.
A defining feature of Trisk is its location relative to the ruins of Thorn Keep. When the great keep collapsed, most of its debris and stones from the District's great wall, tumbled into this Foothold. Perhaps the queerest object to fall from those heights was the Block House. Some twenty feet square, the "house" is comprised of small doorways, windows, and rooms carved from a single stone. Whatever purpose the block could have served in the Thorn Keep is unclear. The only real clues are a long frieze of runes etched across the walls of each room. Scholars have copied and studied the strange hieroglyphics but have never found another example of the script.
Varēa's Boarding House has been welcoming workers, travelers, and diners for many years. The ground floor of the building has a good-sized public room with nine tables, scattered chairs, and a fireplace. There is also a private room that be rented if the evening crowd hasn't already spilled over. The remainder of the ground floor includes an in-house prep kitchen, the cooking is done in the public room, and staircases leading to the basement (from the kitchen) and the first story. There is a ceiling hatch in the kitchen that opens downward, so it cannot be accessed when the alley door is open.
The first story of the boarding house is a jumble of private and common rooms. Each private room houses one person unless the house is particularly busy, in which each private room can fit two strangers for a 25% reduction in cost. The common rooms are another matter. Each guest is expected to share the oversized beds with three or more strangers. The common rooms each have two ceramic pots which are emptied every morning, mostly. The Upper Room is filled with chairs and a few rickety card game tables. The fireplace isn't used unless someone pays for it.
The topmost story of the boarding house is much like the first story except for the King's Suite. This group of rooms has two separate sleeping rooms and a sitting room with stuffed armchairs and lacquered tables. For the cost of renting the suite, the fireplace is kept burning and the chamber pots are emptied twice a day! As far as anyone can remember, no king has every stayed in the suite, not even King Lōth.
The basement is accessed through a door in the ground floor kitchen. It is a simple cellar filled with barrels of ale, a rack of wine bottles, piles of dishes and plates, crates of produce, salted fish, hanging sausage links, and dried game. A reinforced corner closet holds blocks of ice. Along the far wall are two double bunks for boarding house servants.
Every place has their ghost stories and Trisk is no different. The story is told that a man named Wellor Fērnut was walking home from the docks one night, deep in his thoughts and oblivious to everything around him. Wellor wore a tall hat, which was the custom at the time, with a brim that flopped down across his nose and ears. On his walk back to Trisk, Wellor passed beneath the Bridge of Pyres as an offering was being dumped into the gutters below. The burning offering struck him instead, setting his hat, head, and shoulders on fire. Wellor screamed and ran the length of Trisk, and Underpyre Creek, yelling for help but was unable to douse the flames. The story tells that This commotion lasted for hours with townspeople chasing the poor man with buckets of water, but unable to catch him. When he was finally found, the only thing remaining of the Matchhead Man were a pair of charred boots. In memory of poor Wellor Fērnut, the town holds a Matchhead Man Festival every year on the 6th of Felorn. Children are handed small torches and allowed to run free through the streets, which nearly always ends badly for someone.