Pirate Lords of Mystara

Each nation of Mystara that has pirates will also have a Pirate Lord. How this lord comes to power is down to the pirates of each nation. Some will be voted into power in a somewhat democratic manner, whilst others will be by a show of force.

NATION: THE UNDEAD

PIRATE LORD:  CAPTAIN CLEGG

Long ago he was known as Kaster Grace, a devoted cleric of the People's Temple in Ierendi and a respected clerical captain in the Ierendi Navy. During one of his voyages he met the beautiful Imogene in Vestland. They married soon after, and together they dreamed of walking the Path of Immortality.

On another fateful voyage Kaster recovered an ancient and forbidden tome—the Orcunomicon, a grimoire of Orcus. Much of its contents he dismissed as vile blasphemy, yet one section seized his imagination: a dark ritual promising true immortality. It spoke of splintering one's soul and sealing the fragments into eight powerful artifacts—the Pieces of Eight—then completing a final rite to transcend mortality.

Not long afterward, while transporting a vast treasure fleet that included a mysterious crystal skull, Kaster's ship was attacked by the infamous pirate Black Nick. In the savage battle both vessels sank. Nick seized what plunder he could, including the crystal skull, and escaped in a jolly boat with two survivors: Kaster and an unnamed sailor. They washed ashore on an uncharted island—lush, beautiful, and already inhabited.

Marooned together, former enemies became unlikely friends. Kaster spoke endlessly of his beloved Imogene; hearing her described, Nick secretly fell in love with the woman he had never met. While Nick dreamed of romance, Kaster pored over the Orcunomicon. The book slowly twisted his mind. Using the crystal skull as his first artifact, he tore a fragment of his soul from his living body and sealed it inside. Realizing he would need guardians, he turned the island's native people into savage Topi and corrupted the very plants around them. He murdered the sailor and animated his remains into golems to watch over the skull, which he hid deep in a cave whose entrance the natives had carved into the leering likeness of a skull. A reclusive cyclops already dwelled on the island, adding to its dangers.

After nearly a year of exile, a passing merchant vessel rescued Nick and Kaster. The two men remained friends. Nick abandoned piracy and settled quietly in Ierendi. Kaster, however, grew obsessed with the tome. He withdrew from Imogene until she feared the stranger her husband had become. In her loneliness she turned to Nick for comfort, and soon the two fell deeply in love. They eloped together to a small, unnamed island near the borders of Karameikos, Ierendi, and the Minrothad Guilds.

Enraged, Kaster took to the sea in pursuit. Pirates captured his ship, but within hours he and his crew overthrew their captors, slew the pirate captain in single combat, and claimed the vessel—renaming it the Brimstone. On that bloody day Kaster Grace died, and Captain Clegg was born. Swearing revenge not only on Nick and Imogene but upon the entire world, he cried out to the powers of Entropy. Orcus answered.

The Demon Prince of the Undead saw in Clegg a perfect instrument. For untold centuries Orcus had prepared a cataclysmic plan: at the bottom of the ocean, coiled around the entire continent of Brun, slumbers the Leviathan—a colossal horror he seeded there a millennium ago. Cataclysms such as the Great Rain of Fire once stirred the beast in its sleep; now it is almost ready to awaken. Should Clegg achieve immortality through his Pieces of Eight, he will gain the power to rouse the Leviathan and shatter the mortal world so Orcus may remake it in his own image.

The Immortals themselves dare not confront the Leviathan directly; a battle between such powers would ravage the world far worse than the monster ever could—like hurling a nuke into a tornado. Instead, they work through worthy mortals (often those with the potential to ascend themselves), guiding them toward the beast's destruction.

In the years that followed, Clegg embraced piracy with unholy zeal and rose to become Pirate Lord of Ierendi. During this time the ambitious Lord Azzur served as his first mate, only to abandon the crew when he witnessed Clegg's descent into ever-greater depravity. Clegg was eventually expelled from the Pirate Conclave for his open practice of necromancy; Captain Moana replaced him as Pirate Lord.

Undeterred, Clegg began magically experimenting on captured Ierendi pirates, transforming them into undead horrors. These creatures can be slain by ordinary means, but within the Orcunomicon he discovered a darker ritual that binds them so only the cursed redsteel weapons of the Savage Coast can truly destroy them.

His original clerical crew suffered a special fate: he blinded them by gouging out their eyes so they could never again read the sacred Hope Stones of Ierendi, then raised them as the Blind Dead—undead monks who still sail the very vessel Kaster Grace once commanded.

For the past decade Clegg has hunted and safeguarded the remaining Pieces of Eight. A Glantrian wizard once employed a thief to steal the Orcunomicon—not to save the world, but to study its secrets for personal power. Later, the player character Galthanwyth stole the tome from the wizard, sensing the pure evil radiating from its pages and determined to keep it from wicked hands.

Now Captain Clegg sails the Sea of Dread as an undead terror, his skeletal fleet growing with every raid. He will stop at nothing to reclaim the Orcunomicon, complete his soul-shattering ritual, and awaken the Leviathan that will drag all of Mystara into eternal night.

NATION: IERENDI

PIRATE LORD:  CAPTAIN MOANA THE BEARDLESS

Moana the Beardless is the undisputed sovereign of the freebooters who prowl the Sea of Dread. A tall, sun-bronzed woman in her prime, she earned her mocking nickname because no man has ever bested her in single combat long enough to leave so much as a scar on her flawless face. She wears it as a badge of pride, often laughing it off while sharpening her twin cutlasses on the deck of her flagship.

Her crew is infamous across the Known World: the Sirens of the Renegade, an all-female company of fierce amazons drawn from every corner of the islands and beyond. These women—Makai warrior-daughters, escaped Thyatian slaves, Alphatian exiles, and even the occasional dwarf or hin who proved her worth—are said to fight with the fury of a hurricane and the grace of a dolphin. Many male pirates whisper that a single Siren is worth three of their own deckhands in a boarding action, and more than one rival captain has learned that lesson the hard way when their ships were taken without a single male hand being raised in their defense.

Moana commands the Renegade's Sea Queen, a sleek third-rate man-of-war captured from a Minrothad merchant fleet and refitted with black sails that seem to drink the moonlight. The vessel bristles with 64 guns, her figurehead carved into a defiant mermaid clutching a broken trident. With a crew of over 200 battle-hardened souls (most of them her beloved Sirens), the Sea Queen can outsail anything in the Ierendi fleet and outfight twice her number.

Her seat of power is Pirates' Cove on Alcove Island—a sprawling, ramshackle paradise of palm-thatched taverns, hidden lagoons, and torch-lit wharves built into the natural alcove that gives the island its name. Here, under swaying lanterns and the distant beat of Makai drums, captains swear fealty (or at least pretend to), treasures are divided by the ancient Code of Honorable Piracy, and Moana holds court from a throne made of driftwood and captured figureheads. The cove is neutral ground for most pirates, but those who cross the Beardless quickly find their ships burned and their names stricken from every chantey sung in the islands.

NATION: KARAMEIKOS

PIRATE LORD:  LORD AZZUR

Lord Varek Azzur is a tall, gaunt specter of a man, forever draped in flowing black robes that seem to drink in the light. His face is never seen; it remains hidden behind a smooth, featureless mask of polished obsidian or swallowed by shifting shadow. Only two cold, piercing eyes gleam from the darkness, eyes that seem to weigh a man’s soul and find it wanting. When he speaks, his voice emerges as a low, rasping whisper that carries the weight of command and the chill of the grave.

He moves with the calculated grace of a predator, wielding a wickedly curved dagger that pulses with malevolent dark energy. An aura of dread clings to him like a shroud, unnerving even the most hardened buccaneers. Azzur does not fight with brute force; he fights with intellect, weaving spells to sow chaos, turning allies against one another with a word, and always keeping three contingencies ready for every situation.

Though he rules the notorious free port of Blacksand with an iron yet invisible hand, Lord Azzur rarely leaves the brooding walls of his palace. Day-to-day governance he leaves to the city guard, the magistrates, his trusted retainers, and especially the powerful guilds. In return for this freedom, the guilds are expected to mind their own affairs and stay within their charters. Those foolish enough to overreach soon find their members declared outlaws, with fat bounties on their heads — a death sentence in a cutthroat city like Blacksand.

Because of this, gaining a personal audience with Lord Azzur is almost unheard of. Most citizens and visitors will live their entire lives in Blacksand without ever laying eyes on their ruler. When Azzur does venture forth, he travels in a grand black-and-gold carriage drawn by two massive, midnight-black stallions, their eyes glowing with faint infernal light.

Yet for all his reclusive nature ashore, the sea still calls to him. From time to time the dreaded galley Face of Chaos, a 1st Rate Man O' War, slips out of Blacksand’s harbour, black sails unfurled. On those occasions, Lord Azzur once again becomes the terror of the coasts. Merchant captains who spot the jagged crimson sigil on the horizon are known to strike their colors and surrender without a fight, for the Face of Chaos has never been defeated in open battle.

The Man Behind the Mask

Varek Azzur was born into a wealthy noble family in Jaboor, in the Emirates of Ylaruam. At the age of sixteen he was abducted by cultists of the forbidden entity Zargon. As part of their brutal initiation, the cultists seared their foul runes into the faces and bodies of their victims. Those whose scars twisted into the sacred symbols were accepted; those whose flesh rejected the brands were sacrificed.

Azzur’s scars did not form the proper runes.

Instead of death, the cult dragged him to the lost ruins of ancient Nithia for further “enlightenment.” There he was forced to serve as an acolyte, sailing aboard merchant vessels to gather supplies and fresh victims. During one such voyage, the ship was attacked and taken by the notorious pirate Clegg the Bold, operating out of Ierendi. Once again kidnapped, the young noble was pressed into piracy.

He adapted with terrifying speed.

Rising swiftly through the ranks, Azzur became Clegg’s second-in-command. When Clegg eventually fell from power, Azzur struck out on his own, sailing north to the shores of Karameikos. Nine years after his disappearance from Jaboor, he reappeared as the captain of the Face of Chaos, raiding the southern coastline with ruthless efficiency. Six brutal years later, his name was feared across the Sea of Dread.

Eventually he made his way to Blacksand, where he climbed the ranks of both the city’s underworld and the Pirate Council with the same cold precision. Today he stands as undisputed Lord of Blacksand and Pirate Lord of Karameikos — a dangerous, brilliant man who keeps every threat to his rule carefully balanced against the others, like blades poised at one another’s throats.

NATION: MINROTHAD GUILDS

PIRATE LORD:  JOHN FINCH

John Finch, the flamboyant Pirate Lord of the Minrothad Guilds, cuts a ridiculous figure on first glance. He struts about in gaudy silks and mismatched finery, his braided beard adorned with tiny bells and bits of scavenged jewelry that chime like a drunken wind chime. He speaks in rambling, half-nonsensical poetry, waving his hands theatrically as though conducting an invisible orchestra, and seems far more interested in the next bottle of rum (or whatever passes for it in the guild taverns) than in the cutthroat politics of the Merchant-Sailors Guild or the Privateers Branch.

Those who sail with him, however — or more often, against him — quickly learn the truth. Beneath the foppish mask and swaying gait lies one of the most brilliant and dangerous captains to ever prowl the Sea of Dread. He is a master of misdirection, turning certain defeat into legendary victory through impossible luck, clever bargains with sea spirits, and an uncanny knack for being exactly where the winds (and his enemies) least expect him. Many a rival merchant-prince or Thyatian admiral has walked away from an encounter muttering the same bewildered praise: “That fool Finch… may just be the finest pirate I’ve ever met.”

Aboard his pride and joy, the Black Pearl — a sleek, black-hulled 3rd-rate man-of-war said to glide through the perpetual mists of the Minrothad archipelago like a ghost — Finch lives for the pure freedom of the waves. He cares little for guild ledgers, guild oaths, or guild rivalries, preferring instead to chase horizon after horizon, plunder just enough to keep his crew loyal and his holds full of exotic spices, enchanted silks, and the occasional cursed artifact.

Yet even the greatest pirate carries a hidden burden. Unknown to all but his most trusted (and often equally eccentric) first mate, John Finch suffers from the ancient curse of lycanthropy — a vicious strain contracted during a ill-fated raid on a fog-shrouded island rumored to harbor remnants of the old Silver Purge survivors. By day he fights the growing feral urges with rum, song, and sheer stubborn will; by full moon the beast within claws ever closer to the surface. He desperately seeks a cure — be it a forgotten elven ritual from the water-elf clans, a relic hidden in the ruins of ancient Minrothad, or a pact with one of the Immortal patrons of the sea — before the curse consumes him and turns the Pirate Lord into the very monster the guilds once hunted with silver blades.

NATION: THE FIVE SHIRES

PIRATE LORD:  MUNGO "SHIP-SHEARER" MUGWORT

Mungo Mugwort—better known across the waves as Mungo Ship-Shearer—is a grizzled old hin who looks every bit the part of a pirate lord who's outrun his share of storms. Stooped and silver-whiskered, with a weathered face like sun-bleached driftwood and a left eye that has a permanent mischievous squint (courtesy of a long-ago boarding action against a Thyatian galleon), Mungo moves with the deliberate slowness of someone whose bones have logged more leagues than most crews ever will. His once-vibrant red hair and beard have faded to the color of sea foam on a gray morning, and he leans heavily on a cane carved from the mast of his first command, the Merry Minnow.

He's had enough of "herding sea-cats," as he likes to grumble over a tankard of blackstrap rum in the smoky back rooms of Shireport's shadiest taverns. For decades he's sat at the head of the unspoken Pirate Council of the Five Shires—a loose, raucous assembly of hin captains, human renegades, and the occasional sly elf smuggler who all swear they're "just independent merchants with fast ships and flexible morals." The Sheriffs back home still deny any such council exists, of course. "Pirates? In the Shires? Preposterous! Must be those Thyatian troublemakers spreading lies again."

But the problems are piling up like barnacles on a neglected hull. Rival pirate lords from the Sea of Dread are pushing into hin waters. Thyatian patrols grow bolder every season. Internal feuds among the captains threaten to spill into open deck-clearing brawls. And the younger hotheads are whispering that the old ways—hit fast, deny everything, share the plunder fairly—are too soft for the changing tides.

Mungo's response? He's simply stopped caring enough to fix any of it.

These days, almost every decision the old Pirate Lord makes is designed to kick the barnacles down the line for whoever comes after him. He stalls on disputes, "forgets" to ratify new codes of conduct, and cheerfully redirects complaints with a wink and a "Well now, that's a problem for the next Lord, ain't it? Pass the rum." The hin knack for cheerful denial serves him well; he can look a furious captain straight in the eye and claim the latest raid "never happened" while the hold of his flagship is still bursting with captured Thyatian silk and spices.

The one blazing exception to his grand policy of deferral is his obsession with the Undersea Fleet—a secret project that has become his final love and legacy. Mungo dreams of ships that can sail beneath the waves as easily as above them: sleek, reinforced hin vessels capable of raiding coastal strongholds from below, exploring the mysterious trenches and sunken ruins of the Sea of Dread, and perhaps even reaching the fabled lost realms beneath the waves. Workshops hidden in flooded sea-caves along the Shirecoast hum with activity. Gnomish engineers (hired "strictly for legitimate salvage work," naturally), captured Thyatian shipwrights, and a handful of water-breathing mercenaries toil under his personal supervision. Mungo spends hours poring over barnacle-encrusted charts and strange glowing crystals recovered from the deep, his tired eyes lighting up with the old fire whenever a new hull design is tested.

He calls the flagship-in-progress the Abyssal Shear—a vessel meant to "shear" through the very sea itself, just as he once sheared through enemy rigging with chain-shot in his prime.

NATION: THYATIS

PIRATE LORD:  ZENTIC ACINDELYROVIUS

Zentic Acindelyrovius was born Zentic the Red-Handed around AC 950 on the lawless isles of the Sea of Dread (perhaps near the Minrothad Guilds or the pirate haven of the Thanegioth Archipelago). A human of mixed Thyatian-Kerendan stock, he rose to infamy as captain of the Black Laurel—a sleek, black-hulled caravel said to have been blessed (or cursed) by the Immortal Protius himself after Zentic offered a rival captain's heart to the waves during a blood moon.

For decades he terrorized merchant lanes between Thyatis, Ierendi, and the Savage Coast. His signature tactics mixed brutal boarding actions with cunning ruses: false flags, ghost ships lit by continual light spells, and "parleys" that ended with hidden blades. Legends claim he once outran an Alphatian sky-ship by sailing through a magical maelstrom that only his navigator (a mad triton exile) could read.

By AC 980, age and a dozen old wounds caught up with him. During a daring raid on a Thyatian grain fleet, Zentic took a crossbow bolt to the shoulder that never fully healed. Rather than die at sea like so many of his brethren, he chose the pirate's dream: retirement with style. He sailed the Black Laurel into the grand harbor of the City of Thyatis under a white flag, sold most of his loot to corrupt senators, and used the rest to buy a crumbling villa in the old Merchant Quarter.

There he met and married Lady Valeria Metelli, a widowed noblewoman from a fading patrician house. Some say it was love; others whisper she was deep in debt and saw the pirate as her ticket back to influence. Their union shocked Thyatian high society—but gold and fear have a way of buying silence.

The Dynasty

Zentic and Valeria produced three children who became the foundation of the Acindelyrovius Syndicate (known on the streets as "the Laurel Court" or simply "the Family"):

• Eldest son, Marcus "Iron Laurel" Acindelyrovius (b. AC 982): A ruthless administrator who turned his father's pirate gold into legitimate (and semi-legitimate) shipping interests. He controls several warehouses along the docks and has "arrangements" with the Thyatian navy—privateers get letters of marque, while rivals mysteriously vanish.
• Daughter, Livia Acindelyrovius (b. AC 985): The true spider at the center of the web. Beautiful, silver-tongued, and deadly with a stiletto, she runs the smuggling, blackmail, and information-brokering arms. In your campaign she could be the elegant "Pirate Queen" of the City, hosting masked balls where deals are made and daggers drawn.
• Youngest son, Gaius "Stormcrow" Acindelyrovius (b. AC 988): The wild one. He inherited his father's sea legs and now commands a fast sloop called Laurel's Revenge. He still raids when the mood strikes, but mostly serves as the Family's enforcer and "tax collector" on the high seas.

By AC 1000, the Acindelyrovius name is synonymous with organized crime in Thyatis. They don't run a traditional thieves' guild; they're more like a noble house that happens to traffic in stolen cargoes, protection rackets, and the occasional assassination. Their symbol is a golden laurel wreath wrapped around a black anchor—elegant enough for senate balls, sinister enough for dockside taverns.

Even in his 70s–80s, Lord Zentic Acindelyrovius cuts a striking figure. Tall and broad-shouldered despite the limp and the silver in his once-fiery red beard. He dresses like a Thyatian senator who never forgot the sea: rich purple togas edged in black, gold rings on every finger (each one a trophy from a sunken ship), and a cutlass named Wavebiter always at his side.

NATION: ISLE OF DREAD

PIRATE LORD:  CRIMSON CARUTHRA 

Crimson Caruthra was the terror of the Sea of Dread — a tall, copper-haired woman whose very name made merchant captains jettison cargo and run for port. She ruled the Isle of Dread from a hidden cove ringed by jagged reefs and hungry dinosaurs, her flagship Bloodwake flying sails the color of fresh slaughter. Ruthless, cunning, and said to bargain with the island’s ancient spirits, she and her crew raided Thyatian spice galleons, Minrothad pearl fleets, and anything else that dared sail south of the Serpent Peninsula. She wore a crimson tricorne plumed with a scarlet parrot feather, carried a matched pair of enchanted cutlasses, and laughed like rolling thunder whenever she ordered a prize ship burned.

Her end came swift and final at the hands of The Tempest. Or so the world believed.

Unknown to anyone outside her inner circle, Crimson Caruthra had long upheld an old and secret pirate tradition of the Isle: the name itself is immortal. It is passed only to a woman, sworn on blood and salt, so that the legend never dies. Her first mate — a one-eyed, scar-faced swordswoman named Captain Sable “Stormeye” Karr — had been chosen years earlier. While The Tempest celebrated their victory and sailed north, Sable gathered the survivors deep in the island’s ruins. She performed the blood oath, donned the crimson tricorne and cloak, and emerged as the new Crimson Caruthra.

Now the Crimson Revenant flies the same blood-red sails. The new Pirate Lord speaks with the same booming laugh, issues the same merciless orders, and lets every captured sailor swear they have seen “the original” returned from the grave. The Isle of Dread still obeys her. The name still strikes fear. And somewhere out there, the new Crimson Caruthra is already sharpening her blades — and her plans — for the day The Tempest crosses her path again.

NATION: SERPENT PENINSULA

PIRATE LORD:  DRAGONFANG

Deep within the mist-shrouded coves of the Serpent Peninsula, where the jungle-choked shores echo with the distant roar of sea dragons and the hiss of unseen serpents, rises JoJo Island—a hidden paradise and fortress alike. Concealed behind a living curtain of vines and illusory fog that only parts for those who speak the password “Serpent’s Kiss,” the island’s vast sea cave serves as the legendary anchorage of the pirate lord known only as Dragonfang. Rickety wooden piers, built from the splintered hulls of conquered ships, jut into a tranquil lagoon where sleek pirate sloops and the captured Thyatian galleon Fang’s Revenge bob gently at anchor. Hidden ballistae and venomous giant crabs lurk among the stalactites, while the cavern walls bear ancient Tanagoro carvings of coiling serpent gods that seem to watch every intruder with glowing emerald eyes.

At the heart of this lair, ruling with theatrical flair and draconic ambition, stands Dragonfang himself. A tall, sun-leathered man clad in a tattered Thyatian admiral’s coat adorned with shark teeth and glowing runes, he wears the namesake dragon’s fang as a pendant that pulses with unholy power. Intricate serpent tattoos slither across his skin as if alive, and one eye gleams with unnatural golden light—an Azcan relic that pierces illusions and lies alike. His voice rolls like thunder across the waves, laced with old curses and theatrical bravado, as he proclaims his Code of the Fang: “The sea does not forgive the timid, mates… but she rewards the bold with fangs!”

Part cursed relic-bearer, part exiled Thyatian noble, and part living legend, Dragonfang seeks to awaken the sleeping serpents of the deep and claim the true throne of the waves. The fang he pried from a slain black dragon slowly transforms him—scales creeping up his arm, breath scented with brimstone—driving his hunger for ancient artifacts hidden in the peninsula’s lost Azcan and Tanagoro ruins. Whether encountered as a charismatic patron offering fast ships and safe passage, or as a ruthless rival hoarding relics that could unleash catastrophe, Dragonfang brings swashbuckling danger and supernatural mystery to any voyage through the Serpent Peninsula.

His rowdy tavern, The Coiled Fang, carved into a stalactite ledge high above the lagoon, is where rum and serpentwine flow freely, where deals are struck, betrayals are born, and ghostly Tanagoro warriors sometimes rise if the dragonfang is disturbed. Welcome to JoJo Island—where every shadow hides a fang, and every alliance may cost your soul.

NATION: SERRAINE THE GNOME FLYING CITY

PIRATE LORD:  STILTS

Captain Stilts, the eccentric Pirate Lord of Serraine—the legendary gnome flying city that drifts like a cloud-borne galleon over the Savage Coast—cuts an unforgettable figure amid the salt-stung skies of Mystara’s pirate-haunted seas. Standing no taller than a halfling’s knee without his custom-forged stilts of polished brass and enchanted teak (salvaged from a sunken Alphatian skyship), he towers over his crew at nearly five feet when perched atop them, striding with the swagger of a man who refuses to let “a minor design flaw in gnome engineering” define him. His wild copper beard, braided with tiny silver bells and bits of sky-sail canvas, frames a face perpetually split by a gap-toothed grin beneath a tricorne hat festooned with glowing crystal goggles. Stilts pilots his flagship, the Laughing Zephyr, with the flair of a Black Pearl captain, barking orders in a voice that cracks like a whip while his stilts clack-clack across the deck like a metronome of mischief. He treats his height as a personal affront from the Immortals themselves, commissioning ever-more elaborate stilts from Serraine’s tinker-guilds—some with retractable blades, others that unfold into miniature catapults—turning what he calls his “vertical disability” into the stuff of sky-pirate legend.

Yet beneath the theatrical bluster, Stilts is a cunning sky-scoundrel whose flying city serves as the ultimate neutral haven for freebooters of every race: human buccaneers from the Minrothad Isles, rakasta corsairs from the Isle of Dread, and even the occasional lizard-man raider who pays tribute in exotic spices. He rules not through brute strength but through invention and audacity, leading lightning raids on Thyatian merchant air-fleets by dropping gnome-gliders from Serraine’s underbelly like mischievous parrots from a crow’s nest. His crew whispers that the stilts grant him visions of the winds themselves (a convenient lie he encourages), and many a tavern tale claims he once dueled a storm giant while balanced on one leg atop a spinning weather vane. In your Pirates of Mystara campaign, Stilts could be the roguish quest-giver who hires the party to steal a legendary wind-stone from the Principality of Glantri, or the charming rival whose betrayal leaves them stranded on a sinking sky-isle—always with a wink, a tip of his hat, and the clatter of those damned stilts echoing into the clouds.