The Vagrants of Dionaite – or simply “The Vagrants”, as many have come to call them – are a rag-tag band of wandering warriors, philosophers, and scholars whose paths have crossed and remain intertwined ever since. Dionaite, a word from an ancient tongue, roughly translates to sanctuary – a testament to the fact that wherever a vagrant may lay their head is essentially home, as long as they have their health and happiness intact. Indeed, the Vagrant philosophy values loyalty and the defence of mirth. Anyone who can be happy without money in their pocket is a friend of the Vagrants, and any who would seek to usurp the happiness of others is an enemy.

Democracy is an important part of the Vagrant way. Wherever possible all decisions will be made by a vote including all faction members present, and their leaders will change from season to season – decided by election and trials of skill. They believe in existing in harmony with nature and call on the spirits of the forest to protect them and provide sustenance on their never-ending sojourn.

The Vagrants are a nomadic society of equality, and welcome all who would join their merry band without judgmental or discrimination, provided they are loyal and do not seek to cause harm to their ranks. Those with ten toes or cloven hooves, warriors and pacifists, magicians and bards are all welcome. Indeed, many of the Vagrants have become skilled in arcane matters, whether book-learned or given as a gift by the spirits. Despite their initial trust and generosity, they have learnt to defend themselves in the course of their wanderings and when attacked give no quarter, and though they may forgive you, they never forget.

Their mobile base of operations is the wandering tavern “The Pickled Pixie” – named after the unfortunate wicked fey who ended up in a jar as a faction heirloom. Here many a weary soul has taken solace in a stout beverage or a bowl of hearty stew offered up by Khobert, its dwarven tavern keep. Some say the reason the tavern moves is because Khobert is trying to escape his rowdy clientele, but being Vagrants they always seem to find him sooner or later. Many a song was sung there and many a merry time had by one and all.