Aljana, King of the Docks, Princess of the Silver Sea, The Pearl Finder, the Bone Handler, the bottle in hand, the hand to scratch the itch, the itch… uhgrm. Well, uh, not so shore where I be goin’ with that. But do I know he? Yes, of course I do. Comes every summer, this ways. Make sure I see her, I do. On the Opportunity, the last few years. Good ship. Good Captain. They get what you need, for enough salt.

Hold on. Need ta wet my throat.

There we be. Aljana, Alan, Al, Lena. All names they will use at times. The only real constant is the ship at their back. They bring their brew. Great company and throws a great party. But THEN, ruins the afterglow with questions about yer parents…or yer exes. Or bein’ not really free, an the Deep, always watchin’…watchin…

Want a swig? Gotta be some left that ain’t backwash.

Al ain’t a girl, ya know. She looks that way, because that’s what the fellas at the docks tend to like, ‘cept around harvest when the boys come callin’ for him. Ain’t a man, either. Is anyone checking the Sea for a cock? Show some respect! Fookin parrot. Gonna eat you someday, just you wait.

I heard that Aljana once wrestled a Gemelli eel for the locket her patient needed to get over their ex! It taintunt really about the sex, some folks just skip that part. Like the Benalians. They get pinky tight about it. Their loss.

I heard a rumor that Aljana can read your mind if you look them in the eye. One glance, and they’ll see right to your deepest secret like it was written on your face. Luckily, there are a few other things ya can look at, instead, if y’know what I mean.

Aljana has gets her cold brew from coffee grown on a secret island. Their ship sails to a specific part of the seas, then ‘he gets out into a small skiff and sails off alone. When they comes back, she’s got a sack of coffee cherries, a bunch of unexplained bites, and green sand in ‘is boots.

Anyway, fook off I’m trying to sleep.

Cora is known for her extensive alchemical studies, and especially for her writings on how to prevent illness, and then later on how to most effectively treat those illnesses. “Studies On The Interaction Between Fire and Disease” is her most notable work, in which she details how fire can both prevent illness and aid in treatments.

Freeman Roger Bard is from the famous Bard family of the Underwode vampire court of Cryhaven. He is well known throughout Seravia as a popular tavern performer, mainly singing themes of thieving, dancing, revenge, and heartbreaking love. His sea songs have long pleased the ears of Hesha pirates visiting Cryhaven’s waterfront taverns, and he is equally known by Nemien traders and any other travellers to that wild port city. Known to be skilled at any instrument, he gained some notoriety by being the first to play the remarkable “marble machine” of nobleman/engineer Markas Covington. Roger performs as a balladeer chiefly, often seen strumming a black 12-string guitar, but is also quite adept on the brass cornetto, flute, and drum. Lately he’s been seen performing in a bardic trio called “The Beggar Kings”.

To his audience and business partners, Freeman Bard is not viewed as an especially dangerous character, and is generally perceived to be cheerful and carefree.  Yet he is rumored to have many powerful and vengeful friends, and is frighteningly quick with a blade. At least one would-be assailant has lost a life provoking the volcanic wrath of the jolly bard in black. Although he seems innocuous enough, and is loyal to those who treat him fairly, this traveler is not to be trifled with.

Now, those who long ago knew him say he is unrecognizable. Once a quiet and withdrawn young man, Garran has become brash, outspoken and occasionally belligerent. He has joined up with a group of bards known as The Beggar Kings and is said to have fallen in love with mead.

Leos Holst is the current heir of House Holst, a branch of the great Miranti. Leos befriended the great paladin Sir Arthur Leifhoft, a great defender of Aquila. Leos was also present at Leifhoft’s final stand and carries his friend’s sigil. Leos is a renowned pathfinder and acts as a guide and escort to the great noble families through, their travels. Leos has gained a reputation as a defender of Aquila and actively works to prevent conspiries that may undermined the great city.

From firearms to clockwork contrivances, if you want the best, you seek out House Covington of Seravia. Markas Covington has been called a genius of Engineering, proven several times over by the crafting of The Marble Machine with the notable Bard Roger Bard, a musical instrument and Marvel of Engineering that used small marbles moved by intricate clockwork and controlled by the musician to produce beautiful and compelling music.

Markas is also a savant in the field of firearms and gunsmithing, producing sleek and svelte designs that are as powerful as they are stylish.

The only child of the Fortuna family is bound for glory and fame, or certain death. She’s taken after both her parents in eagerness, pride, and sheer amount of chaos she brings to the table. I think she’s insulted a couple Vampire Lords, even, by stealing her way up and down the coast of Seravia. It seems like right now she’s not big enough to go begging any direct assassination attempts, but that doesn’t seem to be for lack of tryin’.

I guess she’s running the Flagship now for the Fortuna? I heard she won it from her father in a Naval bout, but it’s equally as possible she got it ’cause he’s sweet on her. After all, she is his only child, and her mom’s one of them women that doesn’t take no for an answer, to boot. Apparently, the two of them make a small chaos demon who wants nothing more than to prove she’s the most glorious person on the planet, or, well, die trying. Emphasis on die. Apparently the girl doesn’t mind death. I heard she showed up 3 times on some monster’s doorstep only to get squashed every time, and din’t lose a damn thing except the time. I bet she made a deal with that devil witch of her mother for that.
I guess, what I’m saying, is that if you see the Opportunity flag, I would steer around it. The crew is probably as crazy as she is, if they are following her.

Rue (known professionally as Loveday) has incredible skill as a performer and her trademark red costume- marking her as an adept of the Claret Society (a pleasure house in Galdoreor) is eye-catching.

Post-Claret Society she’s remarkably well-traveled, having worked short-term for several establishments, but works most frequently for businesses that have vampire/dhampir clientele. Maybe she likes being fed on. Maybe it’s just familiar. Either way, she’s been away from the Court and the King for a little too long.

It is said that far to the north in a land untamed by civilization there is a man, and inside him is a demon.  On the outside he looks no different from you or I, if you talk to him, he may even sound like us, use our language, tell our jokes, but he is not one of us.  It is said that in his home he was a warrior.  That’s how he got the demon inside him you see, he got a taste for killing then, and once he started, he couldn’t stop.  He went on and on until the bodies pilled as high as the mountains that he called his home.  He kept going and going without end until there was nothing left to kill, and when he was finished, he turned his foul gaze to the south.

Pray you never meet this creature on the road, but should you encounter him there are rules that may save your life.  If he asks to sit at your fire, do not let him, do not speak to him, and draw no blade at his approach; to do any of these things is death.  The demon in his belly keeps him alive through wounds that would render any other man dead in seconds, and he fights with no fear or mercy.  If by either your own ill fortune, or the wrath of the gods, you do find yourself face to face with him speak his name: Nikolai it weakens the demon inside and allows for you to escape.  Anyways it is best not to dwell on such things for long, the fire is warm, and the food is hot let us enjoy ourselves and hope we need not deal with such horrors today.

Supposedly he’s the nephew of Vanessa Heideveld, and he’s rumored to be a Ranger too, and those are both pretty mundane things, all things considered. He’s known by a Nom de Guerre: The Wolf of Heideveld, given by Countess Vanessa Heideveld.

Let me tell you the tale of how The Wolf of Heideveld earned his nom de guerre…

In Heideveld County, nigh the valley’s edge, lies the small village of Meadowvale. By all counts, it is all that a simple farming village should be- quiet, quaint, and ultimately boring. Or at least it was until one night a werewolf found its way to the sheepfolds. At first, the villagers petitioned their local baron, who sent a contingent of soldiers to be led by his son. One night, the old wolf picked off each, one by one. The entire group, brutally killed, to a man, the lord’s son included, and the old wolf ran off into the forest. Not too much longer the monster came back to plague the town. The local baron was still grieving his son’s final death, so he sent the petition on up to the Countess Heideveld, who dispatched her Nephew, Tristan [of] Heideveld, who also happened to be one of the enigmatic Rangers, to deal with the issue.

Tristan was a pretty imposing character. He was over six feet tall and broad in the shoulders and he wore two swords, one steel and one silver, but he was otherwise modestly dressed. And while people talk about how lovely his mane of dark brown curls is his most striking feature is, without a doubt, his eyes. Tristan’s eyes, you see, are not the eyes of a man, but rather the eyes of a wolf, and there are a number of rumors about how that happened. Ask him yourself and he’ll tell you, if you’re lucky, or he’ll just make up some random story, and that’s the end of that.

Arriving in Meadowvale, thanks to the appearance of his eyes, he found the majority of the town to be less than cooperative. After all, a man with wolf eyes turning into a werewolf made sense, in the eyes of the peasantry. Eventually, Tristan got the information he needed, the Werewolf often came from the east, or north east, and usually well after sunset. So Tristan went to the local blacksmith and collected a pouch full of metal shavings, mostly Iron though it contained a small handful of silver as well, then, as the sun went down, Tristan went to wait for his foe in the sheepfold.

Now it’s a well known fact that Tristan isn’t an overly patient man, and making him wait just makes him grumpy. So on this particular night, it’s a very good thing that his foe didn’t keep him waiting over-long. It was about an hour after sunset when the beast came from the east, a hulking monster standing nine feet tall, it’s fur like a mane about it’s shoulders and torso.

Tristan rose to his feet and drew his blade, giving it a momentary, confident flourish. “And here I thought maybe you’d gotten cold feet…”

The beast rushed him and the sheep scattered. Their fight was fierce, their speed unmatched. The beast continued to press it’s attack, it gave no ground, instead putting our hero on the defensive. Tristan was forced back against the fence. The moment seemed desperate. The Ranger was fast though, and every time the monster swung it’s deadly claws, the silver blade was there, turning the strikes.

The beast swiped at the blade and caught the flat of it, hitting it so hard that it flew from Tristan’s hands. Another quick blow and the beast’s claws caught our hunter in the chest. The blow forced the air from his lungs and claws tore the links of the hero’s mail, scattering the tiny rings amidst the grass. Coughing, struggling to get air into his lungs, the Ranger reached into the bag of metal shavings at his hip and in one desperate moment hurled the debris into the beast’s face. Iron and silver shards sparkled in the moonlight, the fine slivers of metal getting into the eyes and nostrils, into the throat and mouth of the beast. It reeled and howled, giving our hero the opening he needed. He dove for his blade and upon grasping it swung to his rear. He caught the beast just below the knee and it howled in pain, cursed blood spilling upon the ground.

The beast dropped onto his hands, supporting himself on three limbs. He tried to sniff out the young Ranger but the smell of the sheep was too strong and the silver shards burned inside of his nose. Tristan stepped and tightened his grip on his blade, rocks crunched beneath his boots and the wolf lunged for the sound. In one fluid motion Tristan stepped to the side and brought his blade down with mighty force upon the beast’s neck, severing it’s head clean and causing the monster to fall in a heap to the ground. The Ranger carted the corpse into the woods, to be fed to carrion eaters and took the head to the village first to show them the beast was dead. He then left and returned to the countess, Upon presenting the Countess Heideveld with the creature’s head, she held it aloft, studying it for a moment before proclaiming, “It appears that Heideveld has but one Wolf, and it is the one before me.” From that moment, the name stuck.

Read the lyrics to the Wolf of Heideveld tavern song here.