A man approaches you with a proposition; a cult that seeks to only protect the weak; plots mingling and causing destruction.
Death, it seems, shall stalk the land of Merthia tonight- unless, of course, the PCs can stop it.
When the barbarian increase their raiding of Tauria, the King of Tauria decides that hiring a couple of lowlife mercenaries (the PCs) is his best option to fix the problem.
Wilhelm the Courageus they used to call him. He used to have it all. People would cheer as he rode down the street, clad in the specialized full-plate armor that the Knights of Trul wore. But no this is no more. Now Wilhelm is a nothing. People would jeer if he walked down the street, which is why Wilhelm waits in the background- until, that is, the day of his plot comes to fruition and his revenge is gained. For Wilhelm has launched a conspiracy to gain the thing that matters most to him, has brought to bear a plot through all of his means, and is a man with a plan.
Whistling on the sea is bad luck. It is said to mock the sound of a strong wind and will call it so nature can show the true sound. Whistling is only allowed when becalmed or when shrouded in fog.