Within this ruined realm live a certain class of deviants who are neither outlaws nor quite explorers, but something in-between. Polite society tolerates them only begrudgingly, for on occasion, they are responsible for the recovery of ancient, long-forgotten treasures which, with remarkably little effort, pass through their hands for the more common and well-known pleasures of drink, damsels, and dice. They are called rogues by some. The faithful do not hesitate to label them as grave robbers and desecrators. A few are revered as heroes. But the title they have always preferred is simply: adventurer.

You are not one of them. You are hireling. A dogsbody, an assistant, on rare occasions a retainer, and perhaps one day, a companion. For the moment, your inexperience and ignorance have relegated you to the lowly tasks of carrying baggage and to serve as a canary in the dungeons they delve.

But how did you come to such an odd profession?
>You were master of a small dungeon once, but were ousted by a group of plucky adventurers. You've taken on the trade out of desperation, but also to study adventurers up close, so that your next villainous venture might be more robust to plucky adventurers.
>You come from a long line of hirelings and retainers. Your great-great-grandfather once served as the companion of Aleph the Dragonheart, whose name has passed into bardic song. The family business has fallen on some hard times, but you hope to change all that.
>You were once a moderately successful adventurer yourself, but time and chance have reduced you to an impoverished old man. Still, you retain all your knowledge and wisdom and hope to impart it on the newer generation.
>Write-in