Dirt Farmer. 40 years old. Loves Bards and hates clerics. Speaks with simple words.



Tavern owner. 30 years old. Often mistaken for someone else. Defensive over her property. Speaks like she cant wait to go to sleep.



Aspiring young adventurer. 15 years old. Annoyingly inserts themselves into conversations. Polite, but not good on picking up on social cues.



Cheery gossip. Mysteriously well off for not having a known profession. Confusingly androgynous. Looks vaguely gnomish and vaguely halfling. Always willing to trade information for information.



Gangly, lithe, dark eyes, noodley hair. Mercenary. Has several gold circlets around their wrists which they never silence. Stealth is beneath them. They believe themselves superior to any foolish challenger.



Slimy skinned, half human, half something uncertain. Bulgy eyes and slick backed hair that’s always slightly dripping. Looks and talks like Peter Lorre in Casablanca. Slightly sniveling, always trying to get on the most powerful person’s good side. Self-serving. Capable information broker.