The town's seamstress. She makes fine clothes and (like a lot of you young people around these parts) dreams of life beyond the mountains surrounding the shire.
Having retired from the royal army, he now serves as the sheriff of Drost. He knows much of weapons but generally leaves the gang of lawless criminals to themselves.
The priest. He holds weekly services, visits the sick, conducts last rites, and performs weddings. He's not very good with groups; as he is shadow specced.
This fire mage usually is the happy-go-lucky carriage salesman who the shirefolk know and love. When his temper takes over, though, the magic of fire is unleashed.
This black guy fits right in, strangely enough. He serves the community as barber and hairdresser extraordinaire. He obviously thinks that something should be done about your unorthodox hairstyle. A trim perhaps?
The barber's wife. She usually has the strangest hairdo in town, although it seems that with you here things have changed. Most of the time she can be found at the market.
The Drost town witch-woman. Turns out, she's the sister of that one lady you met. Yeah, the village-leadery one. Most of her so-called magic really just comes down to a whole lot of behind-the-scenes legwork. She supplies potions and trinkets.
Thirteen years of age. He delivers things. He plans to make his business national within the next five years. He provides you with several minor delivery boy quests culminating in your ultimate frustration.
As you now well know, Mr. Johnson is a master of the ancient arts of martial combat. He also owns the local brewery. The secrets of either craft come only at a great price. No, not that kind. Money. I meant money.
A tragic kickball accident robbed him of the sight in his left eye years ago. His kickball career was over forever. He was forced to spend the rest of his life with only one eye open. His other eye, he claims, stings when he opens it.
Don doesn't do much of anything. He claims to be in training. Hopes someday to be rich and famous, but he isn't quite sure how to start. No, he doesn't want to "join your party." Whatever that means.
Withersby can communicate with the spirits of those who have passed to the land beyond the grave. In spite of his amazing ability, most of what he does is smoke and mirrors.
The town's cheapskate. Never spends a shilling that he doesn't have to. May or may not be secretly wealthy as it makes no difference in his lifestyle. Clearly, he also cuts his own hair.
Like many half-elves, he seems to have inherited the worst traits of both humans and elves. He specializes the cooking of poultry. It's rumored that his hearing is exeptional.
Nah, he's no general. I don't even see any chevrons. Clearly he just likes dressing up. For the most part, his obnoxious comments don't lead to violence, as they are not ill-intended. If you strike him, however, the other people of Drost will understand.
Shoemaker. Once crafted the finest shoes in town. Now he is destitute. His own children often go barefoot. Seeks odd jobs. Currently seems to be working as some sort of bouncer.
Schoolteacher. A kind and loving figure. He teaches at the schoolhouse and may be employed as a tutor of both violin and dance. He is suspected to be a liberal. The town gossip also mentioned that he had spent some time in the Outer Islands.
He seems humble, likable, and kind-hearted. He is often seen donating to charities. Upon closer inspection you realize that his full head of hair is actually a massive combover. You begin to doubt that he is all he pretends to be. Then, he offers you a great deal on collectible paper fragments.
He has an uncanny ability to predict the weather. Samuels travelled this continent for half a lifetime buying and selling the finest of carpets before bottoming out in Drost. He now carries with him only a small scrap of rug, no bigger than his gnarled hand.
Farm boy: Simple and hard working. Still dresses in the outmoded fashions of the last century. Whittles in his spare time. He dreams of another world that he may someday see. He reminds you a little bit of yourself, last week.
This old man has never left Drost in his entire life. He foresees no major changes in the future and fails to acknowledge the changes of the present. He's got a pretty good sense of humor, but he takes quite a while to say anything.
The doctor's wife. She sees it as her duty to reform the backward ways of this small town. She may usually be found on Main Street wearing rather expensive clothes.
The town's physician recently returned from the High Academy of Sciences. He cares for the sick using methods of science and doubts the existence of magic. Other than that, he's a pretty accepting guy.
Having started life as a court jester (yes, he was a court jester as a baby) Brancattio's ability to turn a phrase and cloak wisdom in humor soon made him famous throughout the civilized world. Eventually he abandoned the humor (if not the tights) completely and became Drost Shire's wise man and High Quest Giver. Correlates the directive efforts of the mimes. Knows about everything, but can only tell you exactly what you need to know.
This young bard is monitored for research purposes by a large unclassified being with almost unlimited powers. The mysterious creature will go to great lengths to preserve Robert's life.
A captured mountain yeti, paraded around the various towns of Drost Shire for money. These creatures are generally shy and stick to the icy northern wasteland or mountainous areas. His eyes plead with you for release, but his mouth says "Grawwhr hrrr wrooghrah ghraauu!"
Although thinner and slyer than most vikings, he still leads his viking crew with the warmth and joviality so common among his people. While (whilst?) vikings seldom make their way so far inland, this group appears to be well-known and liked here in Drost. They contribute significantly to the local glass bead industry. (Side note: I'm trying out some different photoshop brushes... not sure how happy I am with the result.)
The leader of the local group of neatly dressed bullies. The bullies and the outlaws will occasionally come head to head. The resulting battle usually takes place down at the pub. Meticulously choreographed dancing is only rarely involved.
The chiefest of the village women. She controls much magic and hosts many, many quilting bees, baby showers, and other special events and social functions. There is a certain sadness within her. As she mentions her lack of children her eyes mist over and she glances away.
As the former captain of the town's kickball team he has a lot of pull around here. He is a man's man who spends a good deal of his time caring for his aging parents. Why is he cropped so close? I'm trying to stick to my original 1-hour time limit per character: expect more zany adventures in cropping!
Leader of the local trolls. He heads all community based events including weddings, fund-raisers, and rites of passage. (Pictured here in the traditional ceremonial garb designed to bring in more tourism.)
Although he is barely 18 years of age, this young traveling monk is already completely bald. You can make fun of him about it. Go on! Make fun of him! I'm pretty sure he's not one of those ninja monks. Look at his stance! Clearly this is one cleric that hasn't been trained in the so-called "deadly arts."
Calm, confident, and good with tools. Everything seems to work out just right for this blacksmith's apprentice. It's as if the entire world and its laws bend to accommodate his good fortune. Say... he could be one of them luck-benders! Or maybe he just takes the time to do things right the first time. Either way, it is pretty mind-blowing.
It's not THAT big. I mean... it is big... but I've seen bigger. Yeah, I have. You know what's really strange is that tank-top and scarf combo thing he has going on. No I can't remember a specific time and place that I saw a bigger one. Just let it go. Okay?
From his stocky frame and dig-suit you'd say he looks like a dwarf. In blatant disregard for any scientific nomenclature, folks in these parts insist on referring to him as "The Potato Man." The stubborn locals also inform you that he seldom speaks, eats only potatoes, and is available for hire as both a well-digger and a fry cook.
A man primarily concerned with his own safety. Spends most of the day in his garden. In spite of the hours of attention, the garden seems in a disarray, plants of all kinds seem to grow willy-nilly in no discernible pattern. The herbs and spices in particular seem to excite your young companion.
The son of a wealthy merchant. He is a youth of high moral and intellectual standards. He has had no need to be otherwise. Well, maybe not now. He seems pretty upset at you.
Ex-military pacifist mechanic. Theoretically opposed to the societal ills that accompany a gang of thugs living in the woods nearby. Capable of repairing almost anything. Unwilling to repair weapons or implements that could be used for harm. Probably has some good war stories.
This mossy creature is the watchman and spy of the outlaws. In spite of his awkward proportions, he is able to move almost silently through the forest. He cannot speak, requires no sleep, never takes bathroom breaks, and never gets sick: the perfect employee. What good is he as a spy if he can't communicate you ask? Maybe he... like... hand signals. Yeah, let's roll with that.
Even though he is a relative newcomer to the group, he is far more likely than "Robin Hood" over there to take over command of the outlaw band. A natural leader and trained attorney, he has already masterminded several of the most clever and profitable heists in the history of the gang. His brazen methodology, however, is not without it's detractors.
The third and final skull brother. Has a high, whiny voice. In spite of today's setbacks he continues to plot his eldest brother's escape. Seems to have little support from the other outlaws. You fail in your attempt to get him to trade bathrobes with you. After all, his robe is at least four levels higher than yours.
He wanted to be like Robin Hood but fell far short. He soon found that outlaws were harder to rally to the cause of equality than they usually appear in works of total fiction. Nowadays he follows the outlaws on their raids; loudly proclaiming to the cowering citizenry that their stolen property has been suitably liberated!
His blood-sucking ways have earned him the reputation of a sick and demented serial murderer. He is shunned by most people and is only tolerated by the outlaw gang because of his superhuman strength, lightning speed, and monetary contributions. His family owns a haunted castle nearby, I've heard.
Not a very bright lad. Word around town is that he is part-ogre on his mother's side. He is marked with a distinctive confidence in his ability to pull through in tough spots. After all, he's been okay so far right?
The heavily armored leader of a group of outlaws dwelling on the edge of Drost Shire. His voice is low, booming, and a little hollow. He seems somewhat surprised to see you. Looks like that tunnel did lead out of the prison. That little imp was right. Or was he? Yeah, I'm pretty sure he was.