Brannoc Underbough - Caravan Mastermind
“Roads don’t move goods—people do. Treat them well, and the wagons practically roll themselves.”
Name: Mira Seris Goldweave
Race: Lightfoot Halfling
Role/Class: Caravan Mastermind / Rogue Level 7
Appearance: Brannoc Underbough is the image of well-fed, well-traveled comfort: a round-bellied halfling with quick, clever eyes and a smile that seems permanently half-formed at the corner of his mouth. His curly brown hair is kept short on the sides and a bit wild on top, with a streak of silver at one temple that he insists comes from “too many ledger headaches.” His skin is a warm tan, freckled from a lifetime under open skies and wagon awnings. Hazel eyes, bright with amusement and calculation, flick constantly between people, coin, and cargo.
He dresses like someone who wants to look important but not intimidating: a cream shirt with rolled sleeves, a dark green waistcoat embroidered with subtle wheat-and-vine patterns, and well-tailored brown trousers. A gold-threaded cravat is tied in a relaxed knot at his throat. A finely made pocketwatch hangs from a chain, shared space with a little carved wooden charm shaped like a wheel of cheese. Soft leather boots and calloused bare feet alternate, depending on whether he’s “being respectable” or “getting things done.” A small ledger-book rides in a belt holster, along with a short, silver-tipped cane that hides a slim blade.
Backstory
Brannoc grew up in a modest halfling community along a busy trade road, the son of a cartwright and a baker. He learned early that caravans run on more than grain and iron—they run on trust, gossip, and the quiet certainty that someone will make sure everyone gets paid. As a child, he kept lists in charcoal: who owed whom, who always tipped well, which wagon masters treated their crews like family, and which ones pushed too hard and lost people along the way.
When he first hitched a ride as a teenage “ledger boy,” Brannoc fell in love with the rhythm of caravan life: the dawn clatter of harnesses, the evening stories around a shared fire, the delicate dance of bargaining in a dozen different markets. He started spotting patterns—when goods piled up in one town and vanished from another, when a certain pass became dangerous, when a new outpost might thrive if someone had the courage to stake it. Instead of just tallying profits, he began quietly re-routing wagons, nudging captains toward smarter choices.
Over the years, those nudges turned into a network. Brannoc founded the loosely organized “Larder-Wheel” routes—caravans specializing in foodstuffs, staples, and comfort goods, linking forest settlements, border towns, and distant farms. He prided himself on making sure outlying communities weren’t left hungry when wars, weather, or politics disrupted trade. He earned a reputation as a jovial, trustworthy merchant… who somehow always seemed to be one step ahead of shortages and bandit raids.
Of course, it helps when you’ve paid for three different bandit gangs’ kids to learn honest trades—and they quietly steer trouble elsewhere. And when you send a timely gift to a certain warden captain’s aging parents every winter, patrol routes tend to favor your wagons. Brannoc’s influence is built on kindness, favors, and carefully managed secrets. He genuinely wants everyone to eat well and earn fairly—but he’s not above stacking the deck to keep his routes safe and his people fed.
