Vagrants, vagabonds, gaberlunzies, gypsies, thieves, beggars and more, presenting a list of 30 of the downtrodden and desperate.
Stalwart men and true, they can be found wherever true heroes gather. What they’re doing there is a mystery to all…
You step in from the fog swirled street. It is not as dark as you expected, but it is just as loud and smelly. There is about 30 people in this dockside bar.
Crunk is a typical sailor aboard the privateer Blue Raider. The ship sails from Formour, but like most of its crew, Crunk is from Osterre. As a Half-Orck, Crunk always has something to prove, and a chip on his shoulder large enough to throw his posture off.
The PCs have travelled long and far. As nightfall approaches a mighty storm is unleashed. Luckily there is a lush wood nearby the path.
A good shelter for the rage of the unnamed weather gods it seams at first. As the PCs enter under the roof of this dense wood, they are welcomed by only a few drops wich is allowed trough the thick forest crown. A fire is offcourse required to warm the weary bones of the travellers. As one of the party is set to the task of collecting firewood the others settle down at a suitable location. But alas, they did not know the perils of this forest. But it seems clear to the rest of the party that something ill is at work as the woodcutters scream echo from afar.