As Jacken steps outside his shelter, he notices the squalid, rotting wooden fencing that surrounds the encampment. The battlements, some of which are merely upturned wooden boxes, seem to be in disrepair, some of them soaked black with demon blood. A few merchants mill about, all of them looking as though they'd like to complain about the situation if it were not for the strict disciplinarian attitudes of the Rogues. Speaking of the Sisters, most of them are off duty and are cleaning their armor and weapons or helping themselves to whatever meal is available. Akara, the aged high priestess, is in her tent studying some kind of moldy tome, while Kashya, the Captain, is standing in the middle of the encampment. With so few Rogues to command, and with most of them off duty anyway, she seems to be occupying herself by glaring at the civilians and, occasionally, at you.

The food quality is obviously as poor as the encampment itself. Over by a group of merchants a fallen one, a small imp-like demon, is slowly roasting over a fire, attended by a sullen looking cloth trader. The only other bit of food seems to be a dead quill rat being plucked by a rather grumpy looking young rogue. She mutters curses as yet another prickly spine punctures her finger.

As for drink, there is a tiny stream nearby filled with fairly clean water. The demons, fortunately, haven't gotten to defecating this one yet. One of the other merchants seems to have a stock of wine in his wagon a few yards away from the roasting fallen one, but in these harsh days a sip of wine is harder to attain than hope.