"There must be a good trail for the wine wagons to pass", reasons Galqarin. "We could ask how long it will take afoot, or if there are horses we - some of us - could rent". Galqarin himself would prefer to travel afoot and, in any case, his easy lope could keep pace with a working horse. As for Davedeth, she would clearly be able to travel on her own four hooves.
Cerio blanches at Galqarin. "Alright. Then I'd like, uh, some clarification by what you meant when you said you was hung. Like, you fell out tha noose 'n survived?"
Galqarin stares at Cerio for a long moment before replying, succinctly, "Yes".
'He fell out of a noose, I stepped in a bear trap, fun times all around.' Sandu added to the conversation. Whatever sarcasm there was in his voice was overpowered by the yawn that followed.
'The winery it is. Got to be late afternoon somewhere in the world.'He finished stuffing his belongings into his backpack and hoisted it on his shoulders. 'Back to the crossroads and just head the other way. Shouldn't be too hard.'
"How far away is this winery?" She does ask as indications of where the others wish to head are made. "If it is too-far away, we may need to wait on that, as we need to be close by for going to that gathering this night."
Sandu turned to the centauress. 'Wasn't it said yesterday that a fully laded cart could make the trip from the winery and back in a day? I'd wager we'll be quicker.'
He shook his head to get the hair out of his eyes and clear his mind of any intrusive thoughts. If anything travelling during the day would be marginally safer than at night and he would take any positive he could.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Morning - Day 8 - We're off to see the Wizard, the wonderful Wizard... of Wines
Ismark and Tatyana join the others after breakfast. Ismark is fully decked out in his armour and carried a full rucksack. "I've been talking with Tatyana,"he says stiltedly, not used to addressing his sister by a different name. "She will stay in Krezk whilst I head back to the village of Barovia, via Vallaki. Hopefully, I should be able to see both Val and Vasili en route. It is best that I assume my position of Burgomaster of the village, that is where I will be best placed to help you."He casts a look at his sister who, in turn, provides a confirmatory nod.
Tatyana sits down at the dining room table. "I had a mind to stay here. A lot seems to have changed in a very short period of time. I'll make some enquiries locally about the Abbot. Never know, perhaps it might jog an old memory."
The party gathers and proceeds to leave the small cottage. Evidence of the disturbance near the pig pen from the previous night is still visible, including tracks leading into the nearby wooded area. The town is sleepy and the few residents go about their business, paying the group little heed.
A fresh frost covers the ground and the now all too familiar mist seems thicker than usual, reducing visibility. In short, it is cold and bleak, a normal day for Barovia.
The guards stationed by Krezk town gate wave the party down. "Careful ou' there," one of the guards warns, "'eard talk of werewolves spot'ed near town las' nigh'."He explains that the route to the Wizard of Wines winery is well signed and around 5miles long.
The first half of your trek goes without issue. You tread a familiar road back eastwards in the direction of Vallaki, following the Raven River. After around 2.5 miles of travel ((roughly an hour and 20 minutes, or possibly a tad longer if the animated suit of armour is in tow)), you cross the river and start heading southwards.
On the road ahead, you hear raised voices, then several people come into view. A roving band of villagers is headed in your direction with scowls and pitchforks. They seem angry and desperate. Their faces are pale, their eyes wide, and their hands shake, all suggesting that they are unwell. The closest villager to the party, you would assume their leader, stretches out a hand towards you and yells to the others.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
"'Nother lynch mob?"Cerio asks, exasperated. "Maybe they's after them werewolves. Ain't naught t'do wit' us, anyways."
"'Lo!" he calls out to the leader of the group, eyeing the weapons warily. "We's just travlers outta Kresk lookin' fer tha winery. What troubles ya?"
Persuasion: 29
Relevant Background feature:
Heart of Darkness - Those who look into your eyes can see that you have faced unimaginable horror and that you are no stranger to darkness. Though they might fear you, commoners will extend you every courtesy and do their utmost to help you.
Galqarin pulls his hood further over his masked face and tucks his hands inside the sleeves of his robes. Adopting a stooped pose, he loiters at the rear. Glancing at his strange companions, he wonders what the villagers will make of them.
As soon as they hear Cerio, the mob quietens. Now, the de facto leader of the group seems a lot less sure of himself. He attempts to take a few steps backwards but is blocked by the others, who are more than pleased to shove him forward.
"Oh, uh, you ain't, uhhh, seen that Morgantha woman, has ya?" he mumbles, avoiding eye contact. "Jus', well, some of us 'ave taken quite a'fancy for some o'those pastries." He rubs drool away from his mouth and flicks it to the ground in one motion.
Several of his peers whisper and mumble behind his back; "Ask 'im, if 'e's got any money", "'member th' plan?", "'ow's we gonna afford pastries f' e'eryone?".
Their leader coughs nervously. "Me an', err, my 'quain-tan-cees, well we woz a'wonderin' -- maybe we sets up a'fund. A pastry fund. An' you an' yours could, uhhh, con-tree-bute. Y'know t' th' fund. An' then we," he motions to himself and the rest of the mob, who nod eagerly in return, "could, uh... y'know... go an' get some pastries."
He shoots you a giant, toothy grin, pleased that he got to the point in a concise manner. "S'hows abou' it?"
After around 2.5 miles of travel ((roughly an hour and 20 minutes, or possibly a tad longer if the animated suit of armour is in tow)
Sandu had not yet gotten used to Ireena now going by Tatyana but the lass seemed to have settled into her new identity without any issue. She declared her intention to snoop around Krezk, saving them time while on their journey to the winery, while Ismark would go back to Barovia to assume the position of burgomaster. Not that it would help to have someone in a position of authority the group was friends with but Ismark had been travelling with Sandu and Dormark for such a while that he truly felt part of the group. Seeing him leave after Alder, Baern, Ioben, and Valerie might have proved sentimental should Sandu not be used to people leaving by now. He said his goodbyes and wished the young man the best of luck in the coming ordeals of managing the village of Barovia, bleak and despondent as it was.
Sandu joined the others on their way out of Krezk and instructed the animated armour to follow suit. Its dull trudging along the way even managed to form some sort of beat for Sandu to match his stride. He briefly entertained the idea of climbing on the armour's shoulders or back when their little group was stopped by a much larger group of peasants and ruffians.
As soon as they hear Cerio, the mob quietens. Now, the de facto leader of the group seems a lot less sure of himself. He attempts to take a few steps backwards but is blocked by the others, who are more than pleased to shove him forward.
"Oh, uh, you ain't, uhhh, seen that Morgantha woman, has ya?" he mumbles, avoiding eye contact. "Jus', well, some of us 'ave taken quite a'fancy for some o'those pastries." He rubs drool away from his mouth and flicks it to the ground in one motion.
Several of his peers whisper and mumble behind his back; "Ask 'im, if 'e's got any money", "'member th' plan?", "'ow's we gonna afford pastries f' e'eryone?".
Their leader coughs nervously. "Me an', err, my 'quain-tan-cees, well we woz a'wonderin' -- maybe we sets up a'fund. A pastry fund. An' you an' yours could, uhhh, con-tree-bute. Y'know t' th' fund. An' then we," he motions to himself and the rest of the mob, who nod eagerly in return, "could, uh... y'know... go an' get some pastries."
He shoots you a giant, toothy grin, pleased that he got to the point in a concise manner. "S'hows abou' it?"
Sandu peeked from behind the armour. 'Is that the old lady with the cart?' He asked. He made sure not to stick out too much from behind the armour's back. Better to keep a hard piece of metal, preferably armour shaped, between him and the mob. They certainly did not seem all that friendly and Sandu was not about to take much risk.
'Why do you want her pastries so bad?' It was a genuine question he could not fathom the answer to. 'Don't they kind of, you know?' He tapped his right temple with his index and middle finger, 'Mess with your head?' He tried to say it as diplomatically as he could.
"So, you spent all your money on pastries and now you have none you come to threaten others to get more? What is wrong with you? All of you hard working folk should have more pride than that," says Dormark.
Sandu - "Wotcha mean, 'mess wit' yer 'ead'?"the leader of the group asks, quite taken aback, "ain't nowt wrong wit' me 'ead, an' I 'ad loadsa 'em." ((You can make an Insight check if you wish)).
Dormark - "'Ere!"the man takes one look at you and takes a step back. "Wha' in 'ells are y'?" he asks, his voice wrought with fear and awe. "Bloody 'ell mate, be' y'could crush a man wit' yer bare 'ands." He scratches at his noggin. "We ain't a-threatenin' no one. We jus' need some more pastries..." he rubs his arms, "tha's all."
A voice pipes up from behind him, it belongs to a woman with a long, drawn face. "Ain't no use a-talkin' to folk as these," she says with a sneer. "Either they give us moneys or we find some elsewhere. All this talk an' I am still pastry-less!" You notice that she seems overly agitated and irritable.
You find it quite fascinating really. It seems like these people are under the effects of powerful magic. It is clear that this elderly woman - Morgantha - is likely a witch or a hag that has cast a spell (or perhaps included special ingredients) that has added addictive properties to these pastries -- an ingenious way of ensuring repeat business. You find your mind wandering to the potential applications of such magic. It seems this Morgantha is definitely a capable spell-caster.
It is clear to your that these people are suffering from strong withdrawal effects; you are aware of certain substances (often ingested or smoked) that have similar properties. All the individuals within the group share an unhealthy pallor and irritable demeanour. You would suspect that something within the pastries is causing them to experience these effects.
The group are likely attempting to rob passersby as a means of funding their habit. It seems that this was their initial intent when approaching the party, but upon seeing a heavily-equipped group of adventurers (let alone a massive warforged and towering figure (Galqarin)), have decided against it.
You get the sense that the group could be easily manipulated should the lure of pastries (or money for pastries) be levied as a potential reward.
Dadeveth stayed at the back of the group she was traveling with. As the ragtag mob came towards them she just stayed in the background, but studied the mob to try to understand what was wrong with them.
It is clear to your that these people are suffering from strong withdrawal effects; you are aware of certain substances (often ingested or smoked) that have similar properties. All the individuals within the group share an unhealthy pallor and irritable demeanour. You would suspect that something within the pastries is causing them to experience these effects.
The group are likely attempting to rob passersby as a means of funding their habit. It seems that this was their initial intent when approaching the party, but upon seeing a heavily-equipped group of adventurers (let alone a massive warforged and towering figure (Galqarin)), have decided against it.
You get the sense that the group could be easily manipulated should the lure of pastries (or money for pastries) be levied as a potential reward.
((Furthermore...))
The group already seem to be regretting their decision to approach the party. However, you are aware that addictions, such as the mob is displaying, can cause people to do the craziest things when pushed. It is clear that this group could be volatile should they be provoked.
Dallid taps Cerio on the shoulder. "Something magic is afoot. They are unwitting victims of this Morgantha. A powerful lever over their wills. We should address that or the mob will grow and become problematic to our greater mission."
> "ain't nowt wrong wit' me 'ead, an' I 'ad loadsa 'em."
Galqarin can restrain his curiosity no longer and steps forward, "How many heads had you?"
Galqarin has heard fairytales of two headed ogres - or was it trolls? - and, given what he has seen over the last few days, nothing seems as implausible as it once did.
It is clear to your that these people are suffering from strong withdrawal effects; you are aware of certain substances (often ingested or smoked) that have similar properties. All the individuals within the group share an unhealthy pallor and irritable demeanour. You would suspect that something within the pastries is causing them to experience these effects.
The group are likely attempting to rob passersby as a means of funding their habit. It seems that this was their initial intent when approaching the party, but upon seeing a heavily-equipped group of adventurers (let alone a massive warforged and towering figure (Galqarin)), have decided against it.
You get the sense that the group could be easily manipulated should the lure of pastries (or money for pastries) be levied as a potential reward.
'So much so that you're willing to beat and rob innocent travellers just to buy more?' Sandu replied with an arched eyebrow. 'To commit crime? No pastry can be that great...'
He recalled how his familars had reacted when they got a piece of said pastry. Why anyone would want to voluntarily experience that was beyond him.
> "ain't nowt wrong wit' me 'ead, an' I 'ad loadsa 'em."
Galqarin can restrain his curiosity no longer and steps forward, "How many heads had you?"
Galqarin has heard fairytales of two headed ogres - or was it trolls? - and, given what he has seen over the last few days, nothing seems as implausible as it once did.
Sorry, I couldn't resist.
Sandu actually snickered at the remark before quickly stopping when he realised he was laughing at a joke Galqarin made.
"There must be a good trail for the wine wagons to pass", reasons Galqarin. "We could ask how long it will take afoot, or if there are horses we - some of us - could rent". Galqarin himself would prefer to travel afoot and, in any case, his easy lope could keep pace with a working horse. As for Davedeth, she would clearly be able to travel on her own four hooves.
Cerio blanches at Galqarin. "Alright. Then I'd like, uh, some clarification by what you meant when you said you was hung. Like, you fell out tha noose 'n survived?"
Galqarin stares at Cerio for a long moment before replying, succinctly, "Yes".
'He fell out of a noose, I stepped in a bear trap, fun times all around.' Sandu added to the conversation. Whatever sarcasm there was in his voice was overpowered by the yawn that followed.
'The winery it is. Got to be late afternoon somewhere in the world.' He finished stuffing his belongings into his backpack and hoisted it on his shoulders. 'Back to the crossroads and just head the other way. Shouldn't be too hard.'
Sandu turned to the centauress. 'Wasn't it said yesterday that a fully laded cart could make the trip from the winery and back in a day? I'd wager we'll be quicker.'
He shook his head to get the hair out of his eyes and clear his mind of any intrusive thoughts. If anything travelling during the day would be marginally safer than at night and he would take any positive he could.
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
Morning - Day 8 - We're off to see the Wizard, the wonderful Wizard... of Wines
Ismark and Tatyana join the others after breakfast. Ismark is fully decked out in his armour and carried a full rucksack. "I've been talking with Tatyana," he says stiltedly, not used to addressing his sister by a different name. "She will stay in Krezk whilst I head back to the village of Barovia, via Vallaki. Hopefully, I should be able to see both Val and Vasili en route. It is best that I assume my position of Burgomaster of the village, that is where I will be best placed to help you." He casts a look at his sister who, in turn, provides a confirmatory nod.
Tatyana sits down at the dining room table. "I had a mind to stay here. A lot seems to have changed in a very short period of time. I'll make some enquiries locally about the Abbot. Never know, perhaps it might jog an old memory."
The party gathers and proceeds to leave the small cottage. Evidence of the disturbance near the pig pen from the previous night is still visible, including tracks leading into the nearby wooded area. The town is sleepy and the few residents go about their business, paying the group little heed.
A fresh frost covers the ground and the now all too familiar mist seems thicker than usual, reducing visibility. In short, it is cold and bleak, a normal day for Barovia.
The guards stationed by Krezk town gate wave the party down. "Careful ou' there," one of the guards warns, "'eard talk of werewolves spot'ed near town las' nigh'." He explains that the route to the Wizard of Wines winery is well signed and around 5miles long.
DM Rolls:
16, 8, 13
19, 15
29
21
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
((The post above was not manipulated in any way))
The first half of your trek goes without issue. You tread a familiar road back eastwards in the direction of Vallaki, following the Raven River. After around 2.5 miles of travel ((roughly an hour and 20 minutes, or possibly a tad longer if the animated suit of armour is in tow)), you cross the river and start heading southwards.
On the road ahead, you hear raised voices, then several people come into view. A roving band of villagers is headed in your direction with scowls and pitchforks. They seem angry and desperate. Their faces are pale, their eyes wide, and their hands shake, all suggesting that they are unwell. The closest villager to the party, you would assume their leader, stretches out a hand towards you and yells to the others.
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
"'Nother lynch mob?" Cerio asks, exasperated. "Maybe they's after them werewolves. Ain't naught t'do wit' us, anyways."
"'Lo!" he calls out to the leader of the group, eyeing the weapons warily. "We's just travlers outta Kresk lookin' fer tha winery. What troubles ya?"
Persuasion: 29
Relevant Background feature:
Heart of Darkness - Those who look into your eyes can see that you have faced unimaginable horror and that you are no stranger to darkness. Though they might fear you, commoners will extend you every courtesy and do their utmost to help you.
Galqarin pulls his hood further over his masked face and tucks his hands inside the sleeves of his robes. Adopting a stooped pose, he loiters at the rear. Glancing at his strange companions, he wonders what the villagers will make of them.
As soon as they hear Cerio, the mob quietens. Now, the de facto leader of the group seems a lot less sure of himself. He attempts to take a few steps backwards but is blocked by the others, who are more than pleased to shove him forward.
"Oh, uh, you ain't, uhhh, seen that Morgantha woman, has ya?" he mumbles, avoiding eye contact. "Jus', well, some of us 'ave taken quite a'fancy for some o'those pastries." He rubs drool away from his mouth and flicks it to the ground in one motion.
Several of his peers whisper and mumble behind his back; "Ask 'im, if 'e's got any money", "'member th' plan?", "'ow's we gonna afford pastries f' e'eryone?".
Their leader coughs nervously. "Me an', err, my 'quain-tan-cees, well we woz a'wonderin' -- maybe we sets up a'fund. A pastry fund. An' you an' yours could, uhhh, con-tree-bute. Y'know t' th' fund. An' then we," he motions to himself and the rest of the mob, who nod eagerly in return, "could, uh... y'know... go an' get some pastries."
He shoots you a giant, toothy grin, pleased that he got to the point in a concise manner. "S'hows abou' it?"
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
Sandu had not yet gotten used to Ireena now going by Tatyana but the lass seemed to have settled into her new identity without any issue. She declared her intention to snoop around Krezk, saving them time while on their journey to the winery, while Ismark would go back to Barovia to assume the position of burgomaster. Not that it would help to have someone in a position of authority the group was friends with but Ismark had been travelling with Sandu and Dormark for such a while that he truly felt part of the group. Seeing him leave after Alder, Baern, Ioben, and Valerie might have proved sentimental should Sandu not be used to people leaving by now. He said his goodbyes and wished the young man the best of luck in the coming ordeals of managing the village of Barovia, bleak and despondent as it was.
Sandu joined the others on their way out of Krezk and instructed the animated armour to follow suit. Its dull trudging along the way even managed to form some sort of beat for Sandu to match his stride. He briefly entertained the idea of climbing on the armour's shoulders or back when their little group was stopped by a much larger group of peasants and ruffians.
Sandu peeked from behind the armour. 'Is that the old lady with the cart?' He asked. He made sure not to stick out too much from behind the armour's back. Better to keep a hard piece of metal, preferably armour shaped, between him and the mob. They certainly did not seem all that friendly and Sandu was not about to take much risk.
'Why do you want her pastries so bad?' It was a genuine question he could not fathom the answer to. 'Don't they kind of, you know?' He tapped his right temple with his index and middle finger, 'Mess with your head?' He tried to say it as diplomatically as he could.
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
"So, you spent all your money on pastries and now you have none you come to threaten others to get more? What is wrong with you? All of you hard working folk should have more pride than that," says Dormark.
Dormark Calling of Strahd (warforged cleric) 4
Dallid would like to interpret what he can see and hear to narrow down if/what magic might be effecting them. As much info as I can
Arcana 12 + 3 for tireless precision
Paladin - warforged - orange
Sandu - "Wotcha mean, 'mess wit' yer 'ead'?" the leader of the group asks, quite taken aback, "ain't nowt wrong wit' me 'ead, an' I 'ad loadsa 'em." ((You can make an Insight check if you wish)).
Dormark - "'Ere!" the man takes one look at you and takes a step back. "Wha' in 'ells are y'?" he asks, his voice wrought with fear and awe. "Bloody 'ell mate, be' y'could crush a man wit' yer bare 'ands." He scratches at his noggin. "We ain't a-threatenin' no one. We jus' need some more pastries..." he rubs his arms, "tha's all."
A voice pipes up from behind him, it belongs to a woman with a long, drawn face. "Ain't no use a-talkin' to folk as these," she says with a sneer. "Either they give us moneys or we find some elsewhere. All this talk an' I am still pastry-less!" You notice that she seems overly agitated and irritable.
Dallid's Arcana check:
You find it quite fascinating really. It seems like these people are under the effects of powerful magic. It is clear that this elderly woman - Morgantha - is likely a witch or a hag that has cast a spell (or perhaps included special ingredients) that has added addictive properties to these pastries -- an ingenious way of ensuring repeat business. You find your mind wandering to the potential applications of such magic. It seems this Morgantha is definitely a capable spell-caster.
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
Don't mind if I do ^
Sandu Insight check: 14
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
Sandu's Insight check:
It is clear to your that these people are suffering from strong withdrawal effects; you are aware of certain substances (often ingested or smoked) that have similar properties. All the individuals within the group share an unhealthy pallor and irritable demeanour. You would suspect that something within the pastries is causing them to experience these effects.
The group are likely attempting to rob passersby as a means of funding their habit. It seems that this was their initial intent when approaching the party, but upon seeing a heavily-equipped group of adventurers (let alone a massive warforged and towering figure (Galqarin)), have decided against it.
You get the sense that the group could be easily manipulated should the lure of pastries (or money for pastries) be levied as a potential reward.
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
Dadeveth stayed at the back of the group she was traveling with. As the ragtag mob came towards them she just stayed in the background, but studied the mob to try to understand what was wrong with them.
Dadeveth insight is a 20.
Dadeveth's Insight check:
((Taken from Sandu's check))
It is clear to your that these people are suffering from strong withdrawal effects; you are aware of certain substances (often ingested or smoked) that have similar properties. All the individuals within the group share an unhealthy pallor and irritable demeanour. You would suspect that something within the pastries is causing them to experience these effects.
The group are likely attempting to rob passersby as a means of funding their habit. It seems that this was their initial intent when approaching the party, but upon seeing a heavily-equipped group of adventurers (let alone a massive warforged and towering figure (Galqarin)), have decided against it.
You get the sense that the group could be easily manipulated should the lure of pastries (or money for pastries) be levied as a potential reward.
((Furthermore...))
The group already seem to be regretting their decision to approach the party. However, you are aware that addictions, such as the mob is displaying, can cause people to do the craziest things when pushed. It is clear that this group could be volatile should they be provoked.
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
Dallid taps Cerio on the shoulder. "Something magic is afoot. They are unwitting victims of this Morgantha. A powerful lever over their wills. We should address that or the mob will grow and become problematic to our greater mission."
Paladin - warforged - orange
> "ain't nowt wrong wit' me 'ead, an' I 'ad loadsa 'em."
Galqarin can restrain his curiosity no longer and steps forward, "How many heads had you?"
Galqarin has heard fairytales of two headed ogres - or was it trolls? - and, given what he has seen over the last few days, nothing seems as implausible as it once did.
Sorry, I couldn't resist.
'So much so that you're willing to beat and rob innocent travellers just to buy more?' Sandu replied with an arched eyebrow. 'To commit crime? No pastry can be that great...'
He recalled how his familars had reacted when they got a piece of said pastry. Why anyone would want to voluntarily experience that was beyond him.
Sandu actually snickered at the remark before quickly stopping when he realised he was laughing at a joke Galqarin made.
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