The current occupants of White Keep slowly filter into one of the ancient castles numerous and chillingly cold common rooms.

Twenty and one they number, and only half that fit enough to hunt, gather and provide for the group.

With supplies dwindling, and members of the group dying off weekly it was palpable that Derth Lovthorn had called the meeting to see who would volunteer to quest again for supplies and survivors.

The human, Derth Lovthorn, White Keeps current Lord Stands before the group; his brutish comrade, Groll, whom Derth claims as a brother, stands silently beside the man.

You don’t know Derth that well, hell, you don’t really know anyone that well because its simply been to hard to get to know who anyone really is with all that has occurred. More than that, it seems as if all of the members of the group, with the expectation of Derth, his brother, yourself and a handful of others have been in a perpetual state of shock since coming to White Keep.

Derth pipes up, “Alright everyone, all of us are almost here. I want to wait until the others show up before we get started with this meeting.”

Derth turns to Groll and begins conversing in hushed tones.