#camp follower

Ally: Embry & Asher of the Royal Commission

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It's a lonely life being a cartographer in service to the crown, but Embry Mharkos wouldn't trade it for anything. Tasked with sketching out the region's peaks, river systems, and outlying settlements, he'll gladly join the party for a chance to see the sights. In addition to picking up the bill for provisions and pointing them towards points of gossip,  Embry will take over the logistics of running the party’s camp and use his geographical knowledge to help plan routes through the wilds.

Before you ask, yes, the dog has guild accreditation. What are you going to do about it? In reality, Embry used to travel with a man named Ashar, a senior surveyor and rather unplesant drunk who fudged his findings and took a rather predictable fall off a cliff after failing to secure his belaying line. Embry was just going to report his death to the commission field office when a random stray began following him through town. Thinking about all the provisions TWO paychecks could provide, he claimed to be taking over paperwork for his old partner and started forging Ashar's already illegible signature. He doesn't really think of it as lying, Asher's been with him far longer than the old man was, and he makes for a much better conversation.

Adventure Hooks:

Knowing the party for the dungeon delving thrillseekers they are, one of the first places the cartographer is going to point them towards one of the most impressive local delves: The skeleton of an ancient dragon half impaled on the peaks of a nearby mountain.

There's an isolated settlement of orcs Embry has wanted to make contact with for a while, since they've had decades to map the territory's outermost wilderness. Sadly last time he got close he made a rather bad impression on one of their hunting parties, who thought his scouting the precursor to some kind of attack on their territory. Perhaps the party can help him smooth things out, maybe by making some kind of gift to the village elders?

One night Asher starts barking and making a general racket, going as far as to drag one of the party out of their tent by the sleeping bag before running off into the darkness. The source of his distress? The distant cries of a fellow traveller bound to the trunk of a tree, left to die of exposure by a cult operating out of a nearby village. Asher was nearly sacrificed by the cult when he was a pup, and has gained a sixth sense when it comes to detecting their influence.

Villain: The Knights of St. Kazvarin

There's pious and selfless devotion, and then there's whatever these weirdos have going on

Riding forth from their brooding fortress-abbey to do the will of a long dead holy man, these inscrutable warriors have long been the subject of rumour and suspicion. It's not an undeserved reputation, as apart from looting tombs for ancient relics or ominously observing the goings on of the common folk these forboding knights are most often acting as the hired muscle for unscrupulous nobles who have no regard for the legality or virtue of the orders they enforce.

Far more than mercenaries with a patina of piousness, the Knights use these contracts to fund a secret and sinister endeavour that they have undertaken for centuries.

Adventure Hooks:

While delving through a dungeon the party follow a trail of slain monsters to a gravely injured knight and his thoroughly overwhelmed young squire. The boy will introduce them as Tilaen and Ser Darrik respectively and ask for their aid in tending to his master's injuries, before the dour Knight chides him for speaking on his behalf and tells the party to be about their way. Ser Darrik wants no help from "the faithless" and is willing to use the last of his strength to get violent about it. If cooler heads prevail, the party will learn that the two were after a rare manuscript hidden somewhere within the dungeon, and the offer of collaboration might be explored. If the party don't help, they'll find the squire waiting for them at the dungeon's entrance, requesting their help to bury his master and guide him back to their order's abbey. It's only after a few days of travelling together will realize that Squire Tilaen is muchabused by his sect, and that steering the boy away or outright adopting him might be the real kindness.

Acting as a stern and imposing shadow to whatever asshole noble or callous merchant the party have recently pissed off, the towering and always helmed Ser Gelceiras has "Bossfight" written all over him. However when the adventure's final confrontation looms the party find him cleaning off his massive axe, his employer's head in a bloodsoaked bag waiting to be delivered to them. "We got what we wanted from him" he rumbles as he exits, " you can have what's left. no hard feelings."

Just a new threat encroaches on the settlement, a mace wielding bruiser in burnished armour rides up and pledges to fight alongside the party in its defence. Ser Portia's skill as a fighter is sorely needed, perhaps enough to overlook whatever agenda it is that drew her to the settlement in the first place. Shortly after the final battle is fought and the dust clears, the party will realize Portia is nowhere to be seen... having escaped sometime during the aftermath after inexplicably kidnapping one of the locals.

Ally: Gulm the Gorger

The usual dust and mildew scents of the dungeon give way to the wafting odor of woodsmoke, vinnager, and frying onions.  As they enter the chamber, they find a hulking orc brooding over a bubbling cauldron. He looks to regard them, and while he is distracted something limp and tendrilled flops out of the boiling water. He swears, and beats the whatever-it-is into submission before using a heavy iron ladle to drown it in the broth.

At some prompting (and his insistance they taste test the soup) the orc introduces himself. Gulm has been the quartermaster for a number of barbarian camps and raiding parties and he’s seen it all. Two decades or so their war leader decided that the party would raid a dungeon, and while all the youngbloods were getting themselves killed in the lower levels, Gulm was getting a taste for dungeon cuisine. The tastes and textures of monstrous cooking are a treat for a gourmand like Gulm, who spends his twilight years travelling to different delves, killing and cooking all the strange new creatures he can find.

Gulm has likely eaten everything “common” at his particular level, but if the party kills something big and interesting and brings it back to him, he’ll gladly cook it for them, granting them extra healing on a rest. He has no taboo against eating sentient creatures, but finds the flesh of humanoids to be plain and unappetizing. He likewise has no qualms about eating undead, and has worked out a few tricks to make it palatable.

The gorger is crude and standoffish, refusing the offer to travel with the party if it is made. That said, they will likely find him inexplicably in their next dungeon delve, and the one after that,  and the one after that. If the party impresses him with a truly rare carcass, Gulm WILL tersely attach himself to the party and begin to act as their quartermaster, ensuring their camp is well cared for, their meals are made to his standard, and their wounds are tended to the best of his middling ability.

Eventually Gulm will die, He has no illusions otherwise. He’s too old an orc to believe his savage fortitude will sustain him forever. He is still an orc though, and plans to go out fighting. If the party has not earned his trust, he will die offscreen, having just set up camp in the final dungeon but seemingly nowhere to be found. If they have earned his trust, he will die for the party, ensuring they live to enjoy at least one more meal. Upon searching his kit, the players will find His prized possession: a cookbook written in orcish, in which he records all his greatest discoveries and experiments. The exact effects of this cookbook are up to you as a DM, but I suggest a once a week “ritual” to cast hero’s feast.

Shopkeeper: Yrjo Spenkrank, The Unfettered Flunkey

“I’ve had many call me odd, in my years, monstrous if they were feeling cruel. But I’ve lived long enough to know that being ordinary makes you predictable, and predictability gets you killed.”

Appearing on lonely roads, shaded alleys, and ruined corridors with only the creaking of wheels and the rattle of vials to herald his approach, wandering alchemist Yrjo steps from the darkness to provide the party with unorthodox solutions to their heroic problems.

Shunned in his small village due to a malformation at birth, Yrjo’s curiosity at his circumstance led him to the study of anatomy and the healer’s arts, eventually piecing together enough knowledge to reach adulthood as a competent bonesetter. In a different time, with more accepting people, Yrjo would have made a great doctor, apothecary, or surgeon, but Isolated as he was in an ignorant land, Yrjo was forced to follow his calling elsewhere....

Serving for decades as the assistant to mad scientists, necromancers, and a succession of other villains doomed to be devoured by their own hubris, Yrjo developed a talent for outliving his employers: Slipping out the back door of their lair just as the experiment went wrong with sack full of research notes and valuable reagents. Building quite a collection of forbidden knowledge over his career, Yrjo now wanders from settlement to settlement, plying the physician's trade until he a new dark scheme worth suborning

Adventure Hooks:

While he’s well stocked with all manner of potion and tinctures available for modest fees, Yrjo’s true utility to the party comes in his knowledge, identifying evil entities or curses, and performing all the careful doctoring that regular healing is unable to provide. The alchemist is even able to perform resurrections on the cheap, provided the departed’s friends don’t mind doing some light grave robbing and bringing them back as a patchwork cadaver fuelled by necro-electrical energy. 

It’s a trade secret that most villains know eachother, often working with the same suppliers and contracting out to a shared pool of potential minions. As a freelancer, Yrjo is often overlooked by the greater class of evildoer, meaning he’s more than happy to gossip and give the party directions regardless of whether they’re looking for leads, bounties, or introductions.

Yrjo is getting on in years, and though he’s loathe to admit it, his old bones and his bad shoulder are having trouble hauling his cart with him. Socially awkward and hesitant to settle down given his poor history with average people, a party that makes use of the old alchemist’s services might find him showing up more and more on their adventures, shadowing them but unable to work up the courage to ask to tag along as their camp doctor.

Random Encounter: A sporting chance

“FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUUUUUUU-”

“ Keep it up Ernburt, you’re doing great!” 

Setup: While traveling through the wilderness, the party feels a rumbling in the ground and hears the cracking of branches, as the sounds grow closer so to does the exclaiming cries of a poor meatladen peasant who comes crashing through the branches, followed closely after by a rampaging giant. 

This sparks of a desperate chase through the forest, until the giant is nearly tripped by a group of men at arms...some of whom go flying thanks to their very lacking understanding in physics. Now with numbers on their side, the party now have the chance to turn and face the giant in a bloody battle. The men at arms are a bunch of braggarts, but they know how to handle themselves, atleast until their quarry grows tired of its thighs being cut to ribbons and does a standing longjump nearly a half acre back into the woods. Picking themselves back up, the party finds themselves heckled by their supposed allies for “interfering with their hunt”, despite the fact that they and their poor decoy would be mulch without them. 

Adventure Hooks: 

The men at arms are a rowdy bunch under the command of one Ser Iris, and can be recognized by the bloodied bear insignia on their heraldry. Iris is a prideful knight, eager to advance her station by clearing noble lands of monsters, meaning the party is likely to run into her enlisted thugs as competition on future jobs, to the point of some cloak and dagger violence in any quest where an elevation to lordship might be on the line. 

Something of a local legend, the giant known as Unshorn Shawn has been terrorizing the countryside for generations, always retreating to some hidden lair each time. A few would be snacks have escaped from this lair over the years, speaking of a yawning cavern maw but being so disoriented they’re unable to say where it might be. What none suspect is that this cave is infact in the feywild, accessed by a secret valley passage and a half-remembered rhyme the giant recants each time he crosses between worlds. Piecing together local lore will lead the party to the right location, giving them a chance to camp out and stealthily observe the giant’s comings and goings and allowing them free access to the portal. 

Mystery: Tithe of the Silent Tyrant

Power doesn't change with the times, it breaks, or it ossifies

Adventure Hooks:

Drawn to a new town by the promises of a grand festival, the party are still sleeping off a week long binge of dancing and drinking when they overhear a commotion in the square. A young man is fleeing a group of shrouded figures who conduct themselves like priests, but bear no devices or signs of the local temples. After facing off against these zealots ( they seem willing to threaten, but not to draw too much attention or blood) the party learns that the young man is named Phiax, had just learned that he had been chosen as some kind of sacrificial ritual, one that his noble parents and elder siblings actually went along with. Phiax is bright and educated, and offers to serve as the party's scribe and guide to the region in exchange for protection.

Investigating these strange priests will be difficult, as they operate largely in secret and those who do know anything  are too afraid to talk. They may need to visit an oracle or seek direction from the gods themselves. Eventually however they piece together that once a year, one of the great families of the region engages in a covert ritual, escorting one of their adolescent relations up somewhere into the mountains, whereupon they return without a child but laden down with riches.  Whatever is going on is wicked in the extreme, and seems to involve a conspiracy of very powerful people working together across villages and the nearby polis. 

A creature stalks the land, lurking in shadows and hunting both the party and the conspirators they seek. The party might hear rumors about attacks in nearby villages, only to be confronted with the thing face to face when it decends on a roadhouse they’re spending the night in, shoving its tendrils in through the windows and trying to make off with their new ward. They also might be hired by a noble family to defend them from the beast, only to discover that their hosts are part of the conspiracy intent on entrapping them. 

Setup: Dwelling in a hidden vault beyond the memory of mortals and the sight of the gods, the Archon Rhadamanthys broods on the loss of his dominion. In an archaic era vast lands fell under his draconian will, as mortals were forced into endless toil to feed his insatiable need for tribute.

When the gods intervened and set heroes to defeat him, Rhadanthys was forced to escape into the vaults which he had built to contain his treasure, from which he has yet to emerge. Even in an era of freedom however there were some who came to deliver tribute to the Archon, conditioned over generations of suffering to honor their old obedience.

Rhadamanthys took these people as his agents, promising them power and treasure beyond imagining if they would do his will in the world above. Centuries have since passed, and these "Exacted" formed into a network of powerful families, specifically placed throughout the Archon's old empire to steer events according to his design.