Having fled Tuckborough before there was enough daylight for the locals to lynch me, I've since headed east and now find myself in the burgh of Frogmorten.
Let me tell you about Frogmorten. If you were to...
1) Dig a crater.
2) Allow it to fill with stagnant water.
3) Build some dilapidated houses at the bottom.
4) Fill the houses with crazy people.
...you would have a place that - while not exactly a replica of Frogmorten - would be a place where existing Frogmorten residents would feel right at home.
The place is a soggy pit inhabited by strange-looking people that tend to stare a lot and speak very little. The "town square" is a sinkhole. No, really:
The place smells like the armpit of an Orc who just got done wrestling a wet skunk inside an outhouse for the last mildewed copy of "Stinkweed Farmer Quarterly."
I've been here twice previously. Once when I delivered their mail, and again when I took away their rancid pie. (I think they were using it as an air freshener.) Both times it was murder getting out of the town.