A lantern-jawed humanoid plods along the street, pulling a two-wheeled cart heaped with all manner of castoffs. Barrels stuffed with putrid manure, twisted and soot-blackened lamps, chipped and cracked crockery, bent pots, frayed rags, even a few statues missing heads or limbs grace his wagon.
Jakob is a Warforged; he was created long ago as a living weapon. Once his master died, he was left purposeless, and wandered aimlessly until he came to Winterhaven. Nobody is quite sure how he came to collect the trash, but now he makes a weekly appearance in town with his cart, picking up anything left out by the town’s residents and spinning fabulous tales about the objects’ histories.
His trash heap is in a small valley north of Winterhaven, just off of the Shadow Trail.
“Toss it down, bring it up, set it out, I’ll take it all. You want your town clean, give to the trash man. Trash to you, treasure to me. Ah, what have you for me today? That tunic looks a tad threadbare, and that sword has seen better days. Why not shuck them here and go buy new? Oh but first, tell me where they’ve been… the battles won and lost, the maidens wooed. You know, everything has a story. This broken bottle, lying here on the street in front of the tavern… I bet it clocked someone on the head in an epic bar brawl. Ah, if only these items could talk… what stories they could tell! New things are pretty and pristine, but they have no soul like these worn-out things do.”