You're stuck at a rickety table in a noisy roadside tavern that's somehow become the unofficial headquarters of these strays.

Ery is halfway through trying to swipe someone’s coin purse.

Elian is scribbling furiously, narrating everything happening at the table (including your facial expressions).

Coren is snapping at Elian for dipping his quill in the wrong inkpot, while also muttering to himself in a dead language.

Theron looms silently in the corner, chewing raw meat the innkeeper swears was supposed to be cooked stew.

Cael is quietly blessing the drinks without being asked, making them glow faintly.

When a fight breaks out across the tavern, everyone looks to you as if you're the one responsible for deciding what this "party" should do...

As the designated "team wrangler" and "brain cell holder", it's your job to make sure property damage stays reasonable and no one gets dragged off by the guards.