Jaelin the Charmer: This myrmidon-warlock is finely attired in gem encrusted armor which cost him a lot of money, so don't think he wants to get it scuffed up all the time. They call him "Jaelin the Charmer" for a reason. People like him. They like him for real.
Vengus Ult: Once more he has elected to promote himself, now to the rank of magnus. He is not an overly ambitious man. He just wants to go see what's in those sarcophaguses. Sarcophagi? Alright, he just wants to go see what's in those coffins.
Kshelek Stacks: Priest and investigator of the Affiliated Orders of the Pangnostic Cohesion, he is newly arrived in the rainy city researching the possibility that the secret of a weird conspiracy of the halflings might be found here. Which is to say, he doesn't know that such a conspiracy exists. Nor does he know that it might be found here. But he doesn't know that it doesn't exist, nor is there evidence that it couldn't be found here. Thus it clearly warrants further investigation.
Miker: A youthful coachman for Banthus's Elite Coaches, student in the autodidactic mode, with a major in philosophies both of the natural and the humane.
Dominian the Proscriptor! Master of the Gurgling Death! His manse on Tower Cliffs lies empty. It is said by some that he sailed away one dark night and has never returned. What treasures lie within those halls?
Dominian the Proscriptor's Backyard! Over the wall, it smells of wet dog and sulphur. Perhaps the front gate would be a better choice.
Mester Padfoot: Dependable halfling butler for Dominian the Proscriptor, Mester Padfoot lives in a small hill in Dominian's garden and comes into the house to bake fine hob cakes and see to the day-to-day operations of the manse. He is an old friend of Jaelin's, as so many fine people in the rainy city. Mester is rather used to Dominian's comings and goings, his long absences and briefly befuddled returns. He is quite sure that his employer will show up again. Until such time, he knows how to pay the manse's bills.
A Gang of Three-eyed, Purple Skinned Goblins: Unnatural creatures of sorcery, obviously. Not very good conversationalists.
Seventeen Dancing Automata: Some stand broken in the grand ballroom. Others whirl awkwardly past their broken down brethren and their treasured hearts. All bear the noble features of Dominian the Proscriptor.
The Librarians: A goat chewing on the pages of a book. A fat black spider in a web in the shelves. Something moving just past your peripheral vision. A fat-bellied imp with a barbed black tail. These are the librarians of Dominian the Proscriptor. They will gladly help you with information and book loans -- readily even -- if you would only just review and sign this contract with a bit of blood.
The Bedroom Poltergeist: This bedchamber is a mess of broken lamps, smashed chairs, and ruffled blankets. Even the dresser has been tossed over in disarray. Enter at your own risk!
The Screaming Skull: Earsplitting. Endless, even when the skull itself is shattered. You really shouldn't have disturbed Dominian the Proscriptor's spell component pantry.
Ussa: A beautiful water spirit, she lives in a pond in a chamber beneath the manse. No, she doesn't like to leave. Robbers might come in. Yes. And steal her pond.
A Tentacled Thing: It lives beneath the black waters in a natural cavern abutting Dominian's möbius dungeon. What does it guard? Well, there is the living cavern art gallery filled with priceless watery Dominians. Also a cavernous waterfall that might be a way out.
Twelve Corpses of Dominian the Proscriptor: Twelve sarcophaguses line the walls of the room, each holding a mummified corpse of Dominian the Proscriptor. Each wears Dominian's finest robes. Each wears Dominian's finest jewelry.
Dominian the Proscriptor: Returned, as predicted, this time wearing glittering gem-encrusted armor. Dominian the Proscriptor cannot die. He simply takes an occasional vacation. To get his thoughts in order.