Spring has come late to the land of Hearth. The sky is bright today, but as a breeze blows by, the chill of winter still clings to it. Despite this, merchants have started to make their way to Oakentide. The road to city’s outer gate is busy with wagons coming and going, early birds eager to get the best of the goods created over the winter.
The Acorn Inn stands at a fork in the road, at the edge of the farmlands that supply Oakentide with most of its food. Here the road leading off to the city proper in the west meets another running north to south leading travelers on to the strange stronghold of Minas Mide, or down to the cities of Myrendos and Halation. The inn itself is a timber-framed building with three floors, the pleasant smell of well-seasoned food wafting out each time someone passes through the main doors. A number of wagons are parked just off the road, with a handful of guards lingering about.
Inside the inn, the common room is bright, south-facing windows letting in the mid-day sun. Behind the bar, a plump human woman, her curly black hair shot through with silver strands, chats happily with familiar faces as she sets down their drinks. Two young half-orcs, both with the same dark curly hair as the innkeeper, weave their way through the tables. The elder, a lass of 16 or so, brings patrons their food and drink, while the younger, a boy of no more than 12, buses recently vacated tables.
The room is filled with the clink of glasses and silverware and murmurs of several separate conversations. Many of the patrons here are clearly merchants, though a few local farmers, in from the fields to have their mid-day meals, are also in the mix. Every so often someone comes or goes from the stairs leading to the inn’s upper floors.
A few stand out among the crowd. At a table not too far from the door, a trio of men dine, dressed in a bit more finery than those at the other tables surrounding them. In a back corner, a spotted tabaxi woman has a set of cards laid out before her in a strange pattern. A young halfling, a shiny bronze badge pinned to his chest, stands on a chair as he pins notices to a board near the fireplace, where a low flame burns.
You, too, have found yourself at the Acorn Inn this afternoon.
A woman wearing dark green leather armor walks into the inn and sits down at an open table. Her features look like that of an elf almost, though her long wavy hair is green and it appears to look like leaves are intertwined between her strands, along with many small bright orange flowers which are the same hue as her eyes, and small wooden branches that jut out almost like short horns. She scans the room, taking note of everyone in it and seeing if she can overhear anything interesting before trying to get the attention of the serving girl to order a glass of water.
Fastolph inhaled deeply the scent of the food and drink set out before him. His mouth curled up a bit at the prospect of fine dining, at least compared to the grub he had had the past days, and meticulously placed a napkin across his lap. With knife and fork in hand he quickly made his way through the inn's special.
After the meal the dwarf, as one could tell from his short, stocky stature, neatly combed beard and bushy eyebrows, moved over to the fireplace. Settling down on a chair made him look buried in the multitude of hides he wore and with a fiery red beard and hair poking out from the top, he appeared as if a fur tent with the tip aflame. He procured a long, thin pipe and lit it. The soft glow and smokey circles turned the fur tent into resembling a mountain jutting out against the sunset horizon of the low burning fire.
With his feet propped up, the smouldering mountain dwarf patiently waited for the halfling to finish. Notice boards were always a fine place to start looking for work and with merely two silver pieces to his name at the moment, Fastolph could use a job.
An armored figure enters the tavern wearing a black cloak over chainmail armor and a tabard bearing a veleian houses symbol of black with a yellow stripe and a sun. From under his hood a medium black beard and dark green skin peeks out. He looks over the colorful scene in the tavern before ordering a cup of coffee. Walking up to the mostly empty table with the elf like woman at it he asks, "May I join you?". He flips up his hood reveling a orcs face with elf like long hair.
Sitting alone at a table, a halfling woman diligently scribbles on a piece of paper. A half-eaten lunch of roast and potato sits slightly to the side of her writing setup. Once in a while, she puts down the pen, takes a spoonful of her meal, and picks the pen back up again to continue her writing.
Her small figure is barely visible with how she slouches as she writes, but her appearance seems worn down and slightly dusty from a long journey. Her rich brunette hair is arranged into a messy low bun, barely pinned together in a hurry with a yellow hair stick in the shape of a feather. A red cloak is draped across her body, covering most of her profile from view, but the clink of armour can be heard whenever she moves. A backpack sits under her chair, safely propped on what seems to be a worn, greyish, strangely shaped shield roughly a third the size of her body. The more martially-minded people can recognize the shield to be a modified goliath-sized tasset armour--a perfectly-sized shield substitute for a halfling.
When she finishes her writing, she carefully folds the paper, puts it inside an envelope, and stores it and her writing setup inside her bag before finishing her meal. She flags down a server for something warm to finish her lunch.
The woman looks at the orc that's come up to her and thinks for a moment before she nods "Sure." and motions for him to sit down with her. She glances around to the dwarf near the fireplace and the halfling sitting alone before focusing her attention back to the person who's sat with her. "May I ask for your name?"
"Nephele" she replies and turns her head to look out a window. "It's still rather cold for springtime in this strange place. Hopefully the chill fades soon so nature may flourish once more." she looks back at Turelio "I don't suppose your any kind of druid, are you?"
"Sorry just a humble swordsman looking around for a job." he takes a sip of his coffee "I don't know much about druids but another traveler probably dose." He looks over to the bulletin scanning it for good jobs.
A tall, gangly man in his early thirties awkwardly weaves through the crowded inn, carrying a tumbler full of wine. He contorts himself into a spectrum of odd positions to dodge passers-by, all while apologizing profusely. "Pardonme," he says as he almost collides with the half-orc serving drinks. "Sorry, so sorry," as he accidentally backs into a larger man. "Oh dear," he stepped on a dwarf's toe. He is fighting to keep the wine from sloshing out of the cup.
He continues to sidestep and stumble through the crowd until he finally escapes the thickest part. From his new vantage point, he searches for a vacant seat. Seeing none, he opts to lean against the stone wall beside the hearth. Clutching his cup with both hands, he gives the red-haired dwarf a hasty nod of acknowledgement. He becomes more relaxed as he takes a sip from the wooden tumbler.
With her meal finished, Wisteria moves toward the fireplace to relax and keep warm. When she notices a fellow halfling pinning some notes and notices on the board beside the fireplace, she cannot help but become intrigued. One of the first lessons she learnt when she left the safety of her home was to always check the noticeboard in each establishment she visited. It is a surprisingly good source of information.
"Any interesting news from the city and its surroundings lately, good sir?" She asks, loud enough for the halfling and the people around her to hear.
The half-orc girl sets down a glass of water before the nymph, pausing briefly to ask the orc if he’d like anything, and moving on once she had his answer.
The other patrons in the common room mostly make small talk, though one woman regales her tablemates of a dragonish creature with lamp-like eyes that hunted her in the hills. The well-dressed men near the door murmur softly among themselves, their eyes occasionally drifting to the orc and nymph’s table.
--
With a nod, the halfling steps down from the chair, sliding back under one of the tables. He turns his attention to Wisteria as she speaks up. “Only what I read in the notices, miss.” He says, giving a little shrug. He steps closer to her and drops his voice to a whisper before continuing. "I've heard there's been some bad blood between the masters of the Brewers' Guild and the Bakers' Guild. Some dispute over grain. But you didn't hear that from me."
Most of the notices he has posted concern local matters – guilds advertising spots for new apprentices and the like. A few are of more interest to adventurers:
-General Notice to the Travelers of Hearth: Unusually fearsome monsters have been reported recently in the Tharum Mountains. Alternate routes are suggested for those without skilled guards or guides.
-Axebeak Eggs Wanted. Seeking wild stock to add to my little flock. Eggs must be kept warm and intact prior to delivery. 5 gp per egg safely delivered. Bring them to Brightacre Farm, just off the main road.
-Delivery. Need deliveries made to locations throughout the west coast. Discretion of the utmost necessity. I’m staying here at the Inn, ask Clara at the bar for me. Payment to be discussed. -- Eilixi Palepeak
Noticing the halfling was done putting up the notices, Fastolph shifted his weight off his chair. His feet fell on the floor with a heavy thud, his stocky build heavier than it looked. He held his pipe in his right hand and scanned the papers.
'Also looking for work?'He grunted at the human next to the heart clutching a cup. His pipe switched hands so Fastolph could take one of the sheets for a closer read. 'Tharum Mountains are acting up? Good to know.'
A soft rustle of paper flitted about as he reached for another paper. 'Axe beak eggs? Gods knows why anyone would want those. Terrible temper.' Nonetheless he slid the notice in his pocket. 'But might as well keep my eyes open.'
The third paper was what really drew his attention. 'Deliveries... West Coast... Discretion, ask Clara.' Fastolph muttered in that characteristic way dwarves would call muttering but ordinary folk might call thinking out loud. He turned around to make his way to the bar and bumped into something. He had missed that the amount of halflings had doubled and it seemed he was rubbing shoulders with the newest one in a very literal way. 'Excuse me.' Fastolph said to the brown haired halfling woman. It was odd, he thought: she felt harder than her tiny frame would belie. The yellow feather hairpin was cute though. He grabbed his bag of tools and backpack and made his way to the bar.
"Perhaps, though I have my doubts of those in this place being the sort." she responds to the orc.
She looks at the human who stumbles into the inn knocking into people and chuckles slightly at the sight before thanking the half-orc girl for the water. She drinks half of the glass very quickly and sighs in relief, the flowers in her hair seem to bloom more at this.
She stares back at the well-dressed men murmuring when she notices their glances to the table in an attempt to make them uncomfortable enough to stop. After a few moments she looks back to Turelio "It seems wandering eyes are quite interested in us. Let's move shall we? If your looking for a job it wouldn't hurt to get closer to the notice board, but you might need to hurry since it looks like someone else is already snatching up quests."
"Well, you see, as a matter of fact, I am," the man says to the dwarf. "Tharum mountains, you say?" He swivels the head on his long neck, so as to view the notice board without moving from his place by the fire. "Hm. Interesting," That last part sounded a bit forced. He seems to speak as though anxious to get the words out of his mouth as quickly as possible. He gets a brief glance at the notices before the dwarf promptly pockets all three of them.
He stares at the empty notice board in disbelief for a moment, before scampering after the job-thief. He starts running his mouth without even waiting to see if the dwarf is even listening, while struggling to not lose him in the crowd. "Wait a minute, so you're not planning on taking all those jobs on your own, are you? You don't need help or anything? I could help, you see. I'm a guide! I know how to get places. Fighting isn't my specialty, but I know how to swing a sword or two. You could even take most of the pay, I just want to get to the coa—" He's cut short by a group getting up from their table, blocking his path while Fastolph runs into Wisteria.
"Grain dispute?" Wisteria asks confusedly to the halfling man. "Is there not enough for both guilds? Was the harvest short this year? Or was it something else? I saw the general notice about Tharum Mountain there."
She looks back toward the notice board as the dwarven man bumps into her and finds it sparser than a few moments ago. Seeing the notes on the dwarf's hand, she calls out, "Excuse me, sir! I have yet to finish reading that. At least let me finish reading the one that catches my eye. We can group up if we have the same interest and you are okay with it."
He walks towards the man who was chasing the dwarf. "Did you find any good quests before the dwarf stole them? I would share the job of course."
Fastolph stopped dead in his tracks.
'I did NOT!' He sputtered, his head slowly turning as red as his beard. 'I am an HONEST craftsman and have never stolen anything in my life.' He turned around to see who had said that. 'That is slander and I won't stand for it!'
Turelio walks out of the crowd toward the red-bearded (and faced) dwarf
"My utmost apologies craftsman but if you could please just let us three adventurers read the jobs? This was probably all a misunderstanding on both our parts," he says in a calm voice attempting to be diplomatic
'Preposterous.' Fastolph grunts as he turns around to gesture grandly at the notice board. 'These papers are common good. I'm sure there are more notices on the-'
His eyesbrows went up as his speech trailed off. He had, indeed, taken all the papers off the board. 'Yes, well... I uhm- they really ought to put up more... Hmph.' He harrumphed. 'I mean: of course.' Fastolph procured the papers from his pockets, smoothed out the creases and held them out for someone else to take.
Spring has come late to the land of Hearth. The sky is bright today, but as a breeze blows by, the chill of winter still clings to it. Despite this, merchants have started to make their way to Oakentide. The road to city’s outer gate is busy with wagons coming and going, early birds eager to get the best of the goods created over the winter.
The Acorn Inn stands at a fork in the road, at the edge of the farmlands that supply Oakentide with most of its food. Here the road leading off to the city proper in the west meets another running north to south leading travelers on to the strange stronghold of Minas Mide, or down to the cities of Myrendos and Halation. The inn itself is a timber-framed building with three floors, the pleasant smell of well-seasoned food wafting out each time someone passes through the main doors. A number of wagons are parked just off the road, with a handful of guards lingering about.
Inside the inn, the common room is bright, south-facing windows letting in the mid-day sun. Behind the bar, a plump human woman, her curly black hair shot through with silver strands, chats happily with familiar faces as she sets down their drinks. Two young half-orcs, both with the same dark curly hair as the innkeeper, weave their way through the tables. The elder, a lass of 16 or so, brings patrons their food and drink, while the younger, a boy of no more than 12, buses recently vacated tables.
The room is filled with the clink of glasses and silverware and murmurs of several separate conversations. Many of the patrons here are clearly merchants, though a few local farmers, in from the fields to have their mid-day meals, are also in the mix. Every so often someone comes or goes from the stairs leading to the inn’s upper floors.
A few stand out among the crowd. At a table not too far from the door, a trio of men dine, dressed in a bit more finery than those at the other tables surrounding them. In a back corner, a spotted tabaxi woman has a set of cards laid out before her in a strange pattern. A young halfling, a shiny bronze badge pinned to his chest, stands on a chair as he pins notices to a board near the fireplace, where a low flame burns.
You, too, have found yourself at the Acorn Inn this afternoon.
(Please introduce your characters)
A woman wearing dark green leather armor walks into the inn and sits down at an open table. Her features look like that of an elf almost, though her long wavy hair is green and it appears to look like leaves are intertwined between her strands, along with many small bright orange flowers which are the same hue as her eyes, and small wooden branches that jut out almost like short horns.
She scans the room, taking note of everyone in it and seeing if she can overhear anything interesting before trying to get the attention of the serving girl to order a glass of water.
Fastolph inhaled deeply the scent of the food and drink set out before him. His mouth curled up a bit at the prospect of fine dining, at least compared to the grub he had had the past days, and meticulously placed a napkin across his lap. With knife and fork in hand he quickly made his way through the inn's special.
After the meal the dwarf, as one could tell from his short, stocky stature, neatly combed beard and bushy eyebrows, moved over to the fireplace. Settling down on a chair made him look buried in the multitude of hides he wore and with a fiery red beard and hair poking out from the top, he appeared as if a fur tent with the tip aflame. He procured a long, thin pipe and lit it. The soft glow and smokey circles turned the fur tent into resembling a mountain jutting out against the sunset horizon of the low burning fire.
With his feet propped up, the smouldering mountain dwarf patiently waited for the halfling to finish. Notice boards were always a fine place to start looking for work and with merely two silver pieces to his name at the moment, Fastolph could use a job.
William Brackwater: Human Fighter - The Windward Isles
Tyrgram, the Butterfly Knight: Dwarf Warlock - Secret of Greenwold
Iòlinder Corrach: Half Elf War Cleric - Allansia Adventure
Valerius Sergius Publius: Dhampir Paladin - Vae Victus
An armored figure enters the tavern wearing a black cloak over chainmail armor and a tabard bearing a veleian houses symbol of black with a yellow stripe and a sun. From under his hood a medium black beard and dark green skin peeks out. He looks over the colorful scene in the tavern before ordering a cup of coffee. Walking up to the mostly empty table with the elf like woman at it he asks, "May I join you?". He flips up his hood reveling a orcs face with elf like long hair.
first place in instakill the tarrasque solo
Sitting alone at a table, a halfling woman diligently scribbles on a piece of paper. A half-eaten lunch of roast and potato sits slightly to the side of her writing setup. Once in a while, she puts down the pen, takes a spoonful of her meal, and picks the pen back up again to continue her writing.
Her small figure is barely visible with how she slouches as she writes, but her appearance seems worn down and slightly dusty from a long journey. Her rich brunette hair is arranged into a messy low bun, barely pinned together in a hurry with a yellow hair stick in the shape of a feather. A red cloak is draped across her body, covering most of her profile from view, but the clink of armour can be heard whenever she moves. A backpack sits under her chair, safely propped on what seems to be a worn, greyish, strangely shaped shield roughly a third the size of her body. The more martially-minded people can recognize the shield to be a modified goliath-sized tasset armour--a perfectly-sized shield substitute for a halfling.
When she finishes her writing, she carefully folds the paper, puts it inside an envelope, and stores it and her writing setup inside her bag before finishing her meal. She flags down a server for something warm to finish her lunch.
The woman looks at the orc that's come up to her and thinks for a moment before she nods "Sure." and motions for him to sit down with her. She glances around to the dwarf near the fireplace and the halfling sitting alone before focusing her attention back to the person who's sat with her. "May I ask for your name?"
He sits down and hesitates before answering. "Tùrelio. And yours?"
first place in instakill the tarrasque solo
"Nephele" she replies and turns her head to look out a window. "It's still rather cold for springtime in this strange place. Hopefully the chill fades soon so nature may flourish once more." she looks back at Turelio "I don't suppose your any kind of druid, are you?"
"Sorry just a humble swordsman looking around for a job." he takes a sip of his coffee "I don't know much about druids but another traveler probably dose." He looks over to the bulletin scanning it for good jobs.
first place in instakill the tarrasque solo
A tall, gangly man in his early thirties awkwardly weaves through the crowded inn, carrying a tumbler full of wine. He contorts himself into a spectrum of odd positions to dodge passers-by, all while apologizing profusely. "Pardon me," he says as he almost collides with the half-orc serving drinks. "Sorry, so sorry," as he accidentally backs into a larger man. "Oh dear," he stepped on a dwarf's toe. He is fighting to keep the wine from sloshing out of the cup.
He continues to sidestep and stumble through the crowd until he finally escapes the thickest part. From his new vantage point, he searches for a vacant seat. Seeing none, he opts to lean against the stone wall beside the hearth. Clutching his cup with both hands, he gives the red-haired dwarf a hasty nod of acknowledgement. He becomes more relaxed as he takes a sip from the wooden tumbler.
With her meal finished, Wisteria moves toward the fireplace to relax and keep warm. When she notices a fellow halfling pinning some notes and notices on the board beside the fireplace, she cannot help but become intrigued. One of the first lessons she learnt when she left the safety of her home was to always check the noticeboard in each establishment she visited. It is a surprisingly good source of information.
"Any interesting news from the city and its surroundings lately, good sir?" She asks, loud enough for the halfling and the people around her to hear.
The half-orc girl sets down a glass of water before the nymph, pausing briefly to ask the orc if he’d like anything, and moving on once she had his answer.
The other patrons in the common room mostly make small talk, though one woman regales her tablemates of a dragonish creature with lamp-like eyes that hunted her in the hills. The well-dressed men near the door murmur softly among themselves, their eyes occasionally drifting to the orc and nymph’s table.
--
With a nod, the halfling steps down from the chair, sliding back under one of the tables. He turns his attention to Wisteria as she speaks up. “Only what I read in the notices, miss.” He says, giving a little shrug. He steps closer to her and drops his voice to a whisper before continuing. "I've heard there's been some bad blood between the masters of the Brewers' Guild and the Bakers' Guild. Some dispute over grain. But you didn't hear that from me."
Most of the notices he has posted concern local matters – guilds advertising spots for new apprentices and the like. A few are of more interest to adventurers:
-General Notice to the Travelers of Hearth: Unusually fearsome monsters have been reported recently in the Tharum Mountains. Alternate routes are suggested for those without skilled guards or guides.
-Axebeak Eggs Wanted. Seeking wild stock to add to my little flock. Eggs must be kept warm and intact prior to delivery. 5 gp per egg safely delivered. Bring them to Brightacre Farm, just off the main road.
-Delivery. Need deliveries made to locations throughout the west coast. Discretion of the utmost necessity. I’m staying here at the Inn, ask Clara at the bar for me. Payment to be discussed. -- Eilixi Palepeak
Noticing the halfling was done putting up the notices, Fastolph shifted his weight off his chair. His feet fell on the floor with a heavy thud, his stocky build heavier than it looked. He held his pipe in his right hand and scanned the papers.
'Also looking for work?' He grunted at the human next to the heart clutching a cup. His pipe switched hands so Fastolph could take one of the sheets for a closer read. 'Tharum Mountains are acting up? Good to know.'
A soft rustle of paper flitted about as he reached for another paper. 'Axe beak eggs? Gods knows why anyone would want those. Terrible temper.' Nonetheless he slid the notice in his pocket. 'But might as well keep my eyes open.'
The third paper was what really drew his attention. 'Deliveries... West Coast... Discretion, ask Clara.' Fastolph muttered in that characteristic way dwarves would call muttering but ordinary folk might call thinking out loud. He turned around to make his way to the bar and bumped into something. He had missed that the amount of halflings had doubled and it seemed he was rubbing shoulders with the newest one in a very literal way. 'Excuse me.' Fastolph said to the brown haired halfling woman. It was odd, he thought: she felt harder than her tiny frame would belie. The yellow feather hairpin was cute though. He grabbed his bag of tools and backpack and made his way to the bar.
William Brackwater: Human Fighter - The Windward Isles
Tyrgram, the Butterfly Knight: Dwarf Warlock - Secret of Greenwold
Iòlinder Corrach: Half Elf War Cleric - Allansia Adventure
Valerius Sergius Publius: Dhampir Paladin - Vae Victus
"Perhaps, though I have my doubts of those in this place being the sort." she responds to the orc.
She looks at the human who stumbles into the inn knocking into people and chuckles slightly at the sight before thanking the half-orc girl for the water. She drinks half of the glass very quickly and sighs in relief, the flowers in her hair seem to bloom more at this.
She stares back at the well-dressed men murmuring when she notices their glances to the table in an attempt to make them uncomfortable enough to stop.
After a few moments she looks back to Turelio "It seems wandering eyes are quite interested in us. Let's move shall we? If your looking for a job it wouldn't hurt to get closer to the notice board, but you might need to hurry since it looks like someone else is already snatching up quests."
"Well, you see, as a matter of fact, I am," the man says to the dwarf. "Tharum mountains, you say?" He swivels the head on his long neck, so as to view the notice board without moving from his place by the fire. "Hm. Interesting," That last part sounded a bit forced. He seems to speak as though anxious to get the words out of his mouth as quickly as possible. He gets a brief glance at the notices before the dwarf promptly pockets all three of them.
He stares at the empty notice board in disbelief for a moment, before scampering after the job-thief. He starts running his mouth without even waiting to see if the dwarf is even listening, while struggling to not lose him in the crowd. "Wait a minute, so you're not planning on taking all those jobs on your own, are you? You don't need help or anything? I could help, you see. I'm a guide! I know how to get places. Fighting isn't my specialty, but I know how to swing a sword or two. You could even take most of the pay, I just want to get to the coa—" He's cut short by a group getting up from their table, blocking his path while Fastolph runs into Wisteria.
Turelio glances at the men "Great idea Nephele."
He walks towards the man who was chasing the dwarf. "Did you find any good quests before the dwarf stole them? I would share the job of course."
first place in instakill the tarrasque solo
"Grain dispute?" Wisteria asks confusedly to the halfling man. "Is there not enough for both guilds? Was the harvest short this year? Or was it something else? I saw the general notice about Tharum Mountain there."
She looks back toward the notice board as the dwarven man bumps into her and finds it sparser than a few moments ago. Seeing the notes on the dwarf's hand, she calls out, "Excuse me, sir! I have yet to finish reading that. At least let me finish reading the one that catches my eye. We can group up if we have the same interest and you are okay with it."
Fastolph stopped dead in his tracks.
'I did NOT!' He sputtered, his head slowly turning as red as his beard. 'I am an HONEST craftsman and have never stolen anything in my life.' He turned around to see who had said that. 'That is slander and I won't stand for it!'
William Brackwater: Human Fighter - The Windward Isles
Tyrgram, the Butterfly Knight: Dwarf Warlock - Secret of Greenwold
Iòlinder Corrach: Half Elf War Cleric - Allansia Adventure
Valerius Sergius Publius: Dhampir Paladin - Vae Victus
Turelio walks out of the crowd toward the red-bearded (and faced) dwarf
"My utmost apologies craftsman but if you could please just let us three adventurers read the jobs? This was probably all a misunderstanding on both our parts," he says in a calm voice attempting to be diplomatic
first place in instakill the tarrasque solo
'Preposterous.' Fastolph grunts as he turns around to gesture grandly at the notice board. 'These papers are common good. I'm sure there are more notices on the-'
His eyesbrows went up as his speech trailed off. He had, indeed, taken all the papers off the board. 'Yes, well... I uhm- they really ought to put up more... Hmph.' He harrumphed. 'I mean: of course.' Fastolph procured the papers from his pockets, smoothed out the creases and held them out for someone else to take.
William Brackwater: Human Fighter - The Windward Isles
Tyrgram, the Butterfly Knight: Dwarf Warlock - Secret of Greenwold
Iòlinder Corrach: Half Elf War Cleric - Allansia Adventure
Valerius Sergius Publius: Dhampir Paladin - Vae Victus