Gil Greenwood
Gil runs Greenwood Housecleaning, a clever euphemism for his grisly trade: harvesting the remains of magical beasts slain by adventurers and repurposing their valuable parts. His operation is meticulous and efficient, every move calculated to maximize profit for the Syndicate while supplying adventurers with high-quality items. Though he has an air of easygoing charm, his piercing gaze and smooth demeanour make it clear he’s no mere lackey. His network runs deep, his connections with artisans and fences ensuring that no scrap of a kill goes to waste.
On the battlefield after a hunt, Gil is a conductor of chaos. With a snap of his fingers and a barked command, his crew of goblins and roughnecks spring into action, stripping carcasses down to the bone, boxing up even the most obscure remnants for shipment. Gil knows the value of every hide, tooth, and claw, and he’s not above a bit of haggling to secure the best deal. To adventurers, he offers an array of items—custom-made weapons, armor, trinkets—all crafted from their conquests. And always, Gil takes his cut, his sly grin never quite reaching his calculating eyes.
When you enter the grounds where the Beast of Dhamthurrin lay, a gaggle of goblins and crewmen are tearing the creature apart with hacksaws and crude tools, at this point there is little more than a skeleton which is also being crated up and put onto carriages.
A group of Morlock goblins are being led by a thin man, a grim looking fellow with slicked back dark green hair, a jacket with the phases of the moon blazoned across the shoulders, bedazzled with fake gems as well as a necklace with an emblem of two crossed keys, the sigil of the Syndicate.
“Hey how ya doin, Gil Greenwood, at your soyvice. I was hired by our associate Watcher, we worked together running pickups years back. The jobs simple, kid. We hears abouts a big thing yous guys dealt with, we get in there, get’er hands dirty and in a one two pop, we gather up the goods and procure the procurements to any craftsmen or dealers we see fit. Some bits we move through our local fence painters to get things across city lines, get coin for the excess and ship that back to your Blackroost establishment on yer lil island paradise. Some of this stuff is worfless, even if it’s da hide of ah great dragon or a stinkin’ pig. We send all we harvest around to our people who have a knack for the fings we knicked. They take stuff and we delivers it back to you mens and dames to stock up or stock out. We get our honest days pay, gets to keep the junk, take a slip off the top and you get an assortment of new trinks and treasures to continue your adventuring stuff. “
He snaps his fingers
“Gobblegoo, show em the goods”. A small, grey skin morlock goblin who can barely see pulls an oversized cart. He has a few thin greying single strands of hair and two incisors that resemble rat teeth. His muted purple cataract eyes barely see shapes let alone any colour. The tiered cart begins unfolding with shelves and unfurling clothes racks, revealing a much larger inventory of crafted goods from various kills you have completed. Some stuff from Cynthia, Venerax and now pieces crafted from the Beast of Dhamthurrin. These guys apparently work quickly.