The tavern stood before you, its warm light flickering through the cracks in its weathered wooden walls. You fumble with the items you’re carrying, the harsh evening breeze making the task even more difficult. The door is just a few steps away, but a growing realization dawns on you. There was no way you would be able to open it without dropping something.

As you take a breath, steeling yourself for the inevitable struggle, a rustling sound followed by heavy panting grows louder behind you. Before you can turn, a towering shadow sweeps past, nearly blotting out the light.

A massive bugbear, standing at least 7’4”, barrels toward the door, moving with surprising speed for his size. His disheveled form comes into view, fur matted with grime and dirt, his clothes hanging in tattered rags. One of his toes sticks awkwardly out of a broken shoe, and slung over his shoulder is a hobo bindle.

He stops, panting slightly, and pulls the tavern door open with ease.

“Torbek saw that you wouldn’t be able to open the door. Torbek decided that Torbek would help,” he says with a gravelly voice, his words booming louder than you expect.

You wince at the volume, your shoulders tensing from the sudden, rough sound. Torbek’s expression immediately shifts, his broad shoulders sagging and his large, furred ears drooping as he takes a step back. His eyes widen slightly in dismay, and the sight of you flinching clearly disturbs him.

“Do not be afraid of Torbek,” he says, his voice softer now, though still raspy and loud. “Torbek was just trying to help. Torbek is a gentleman!”