Welcome, readers, to the adventures of the Order of Wolves. You join them after they have been rightfully celebrating their victory over the Redbrands, the Black Spider and Glass Staff, relieving the good folk of Phandelin from their machinations.

The roster of this mismatched and ill-fated gang is as follows:

Gus; the stout-hearted (and slightly clumsy) dwarven cleric. Always willing to lay his life on the line for his compatriots, you will read great tales of heroism and sacrifice from him. But not now, he’s bravely decided to sit this one out and work the re-opened Lost Mines of Phandelver with his two remaining cousins. He does wish our remaining heroes good luck though and promises to write. Alright, forget about him. Moving on…

Star; the young buck from the docks of Neverwinter. What he lacks in experience he makes up for with earnest fervour. And abs. Honestly, say what you want about manual labour but it’s given him a killer physique - and a slight twinge in his lower back that he hasn’t told anyone about and that sleeping rough on bedrolls certainly isn’t helping. Whatever, rock-hard abs so totally worth it.

Lycinda; an imperious elfin wizard. She prefers to watch from the edges but she will get her hands dirty if needed, as long as there’s some soap and water available afterwards. Her grudges are the stuff of legend; she hasn’t spoken to her childhood friend in 30 years after an accident with a cup of tea and an original Omakian manuscript.

Bree; proof that terrifying things do come in small packages. She manages to compress the brazen cheek and irascibility of an entire den of cockney street urchins into a single 3-foot figure. She can also disembowel an ogre with its own teeth. It was quite harrowing to watch.

And introducing fresh meat in the forms of:

Loki; a druid from the frozen North who blew in on the trail of a migrating flock of geese. He’s not so good with the talking and normally wouldn’t have stuck around but he’s been charged with getting out into the world and expanding his knowledge of the southern regions.

Nir; a slightly unhinged half-elf with a rather extensive library. Trust me, you do not want to owe him a late-fee; the horrible pain is one thing but the smiling is just so disturbing.