Since some people here are showing an interest into pushing for more discussions of actual gaming and games we like, instead of recycling the same old rants over and over again, I thought it would be nice to go ahead and create threads. I encourage anyone reading this to do the same: create more threads. Please post in this one and keep it alive. I'll create more of those in the near future.

The idea of the "Denizens of..." series of threads is to set up a basic situation, or locale, in some role playing genre, and having us share NPCs or groups or whatnot that could be met in those situations. Create a thinktank and sample elements that a GM like me or you can come to thinking "OK. I need a colorful set of NPCs/ideas to go with this situation. What's in this thread for me to pick or give me ideas?"

Denizens of the Green Dragon Inn is basically about the standard fantasy medieval inn the adventurers come to in your campaign. It's not setting or game specific. It could be about D&D, Stormbringer, RuneQuest, Warhammer FRP, none of the above. If you've got an idea for NPCs that could be included into any such inn setting, go ahead and share it with us.

Who can they meet? What sort of people take up residence at the inn, are proposing adventures to the PCs? Who's at the next table having a drink? Let your imagination go wild, and share your ideas with others.

William the Pig-handler

William comes to the Green Dragon Inn fairly often. He was an adventurer once, but got bad experiences with posers and other individuals whom he thinks made the whole process of adventuring feel like a career or professional venue instead of the real, genuine free-lance experience it ought to be. He got wounded in one such expeditions and gave up on these activities. He now works as a pig-handler in town, and comes to the Green Dragon to get drunk, light his long hobbit pipe, and rant endlessly about the "Swine," these know-it-all would-adventurers who do not know jack about the real business of getting down to the dungeon and getting out of there alive. He's got semi-long, oily black hair, a bloodied eye, remnant of his injuries down under, years ago, and an equally dark facial hair. He will often compare his current job to his adventuring experiences, raving about the sense of exhilaration that comes from handling the beasts, instead of tagging along with them.

Grognârk the Old

Grognârk is a half-orc veteran of many campaigns for various lords of the neighbouring kingdoms of Nosenrald and Xagygge. He is now geriatric, and quite demented. He likes to share his old war stories, and generally looks upon the young as having lost a sense of worth and, strangely enough coming a veteran born from such muddled stock, honor in the art of war. He likes to select the next prostitute he will pay for randomly, by throwing a bunch of coins on the counter. Nobody really understands how the selection is made, though this likely has something to do with the combinations of heads and tails resulting from the throw. He is currently in possession of a strange little ivory box, but was unable to figure out the means to open it. Who knows what sort of map or treasure it might contain?

Bwah hah hah ha. I'm not going down that road, but I love the thread idea.

Rachel Appleherd

She barely makes a living collecting the apples that fall from the Duke's trees; once they hit the ground, they're common property, but the gods won't help you if you pick them from the tree. It's her family business, albeit her father can't help any more now that he's missing both his hands. She is 16 or thereabouts, and as all youth do, she dreams of becoming an adventurer. For now, she contents herself selling applejack to the inn, which gives her an excuse to hang about and talk to travelers, but sooner or later she's going to convince herself that it's a good idea to stow away in a wagon or follow an adventuring party into peril.

Quote from: Thanlis;444468Bwah hah hah ha. I'm not going down that road, but I love the thread idea.

It's all in good humour. I'll post something more classic next time.

Angdalf is (possibly) a 5th level magic user. Although he appears to be human, he tells everyone that he is actually a member of some sort of angelic race from across the sea. His behavior, however, is anything but angelic. He is a notorious pothead, pyromaniac, drunkard and thief; marijuana (or 'pipeweed' as he likes to call it), food and horses are among the the most frequent targets of his larcenous behavior. He is also well known for leaving his adventuring companions in the lurch when they need him most. Usually, he explains away his sudden disappearances by hinting that he had to run off to save the world or combat some sort horrible evil.  In truth, however, he can almost always be found at the nearest inn, sexually harassing its halfling and dwarven clientele. Most Saturday evenings, Angdalf lurks in the corner of the inn, hunched over a mug of mead, muttering to himself in a guttural and wholly made up language. When he is wasted, he often pretends to have secret knowledge which he will attempt to trade for drinks. Once he has tricked somone into buying him a drink, he will renig on his offer to share this information, often claiming, "it is too dangerous to be spoken of." Most of the locals agree that he is a pervert and an asshole who gives wizards, drunks, dirty old men and potheads a bad name.

I declare Aos the winner of the thread.

I'll be along with a contribution of my own shortly...

Najmah

Najmah (Star) comes from a far-away land. Nobody knows his story or even if Najmah is his real name. What they do know is that he is a skilled story-teller. Najmah arrived 14 years ago and began renting the small room just off the kitchen of The Green Dragon Inn. The regulars at the inn look forward to the times when Najmah decides to entertain the common room with one of his exquisitely crafted tales and they know to steer clear of him when is settled by the fire and staring deeply into his wine glass. The wine glass he always carries in his left hand. His right hand, you see, is gone. Speculation on the reason for the missing hand is one of the favorite pass times of the regulars. Some say he bargained with a Djinn who took his hand for the gift of prophecy. Some say he lost the hand for caressing the face of a sultan's favored wife. Some say he lost the hand in the desert, fighting against bandits. Najmah, however, has never told that particular tale. Najmah, through virtue of his skill as a storyteller, is a font of strange lore, half-truths and forgotten myths all of which seem to draw adventurers to him.

Leanhaun Mac Darain, lawful evil half-elf 5th-level assassin

If the land is under the thumb of an evil or oppressive ruler, Leanhaun Mac Darain is his eyes, his ears and his left hand, and can be found at public places such as the Green Dragon. A conceited and arrogant mercenary, Leanhaun is a thug and a bully at heart. He sits by a corner of the inn, not hidden, but at a place where his keen hearing can pick up any potentially treasonous conversation (if the PCs speak of breaking the law or bringing down the tyrant, Leanhaun picks up the conversation in a 1-2 roll in 1d6).

Those who Leanhaun singles out as "troublemakers" disappear at his hands, and that of his goon squad (2 3rd level assassins, 2 3rd level thieves and 4 2nd level fighters), never to be seen again.

Fancying himself "Keeper of the Peace", the hypocritical Leanhaun fails to live up to his own draconian standards, routinely getting drunk, abusing the serving wenches and terrifying the regular folks -- behavior he'd never tolerate on anyone else.

GMs, when playing Leanhaun, put on your best impression of the Sheriff of Nottingham, and season with the little tyrants of everyday life, with every middle-management bureaucrat drunk with petty power.

Foetid Gene:

Some would dismiss old Gene as a denizen of the Green Dragon Inn. He lives in a little niche on the side of the stable drain, down there in the back alley where travelers bring their horses to the be groomed. It should be pretty clear how the old man got his nickname. He could be as old as 70 years old or much younger and decayed by cheap liquor and the disgusting conditions he lives in. He's tolerated by the tenant and staff because he will accept the most revolting chores for a reload of his flask and he never annoys customers even when he's shit faced. Actually it's the other way around: some of the regulars at the inn, the mean spirited one, will humiliate and torment poor old Gene for the mere laugh of it. No one will move a finger to defend Gene, unless the pranksters really hurt him or if they forget to leave a tip to the ever smiling geezer. Why care about Gene you ask me? Well not much, I'll give you that. But the man's got ears and most visitors leave their horses at the stable and come and get them back when they leave. Nobody pays attention to old Foetid Gene, or even knows when he's around. He often knows more about peeps business than someone spending hours eavesdropping at a table inside. The knowledge is yours to get, that is if you're ready to pay the price: a refill of his flask, some close attention and the proximity of his rotten mouth when he's whispering to you...