All adventurers see the barflies that inhabit every location of drunkenness and revelry in each community. Some of these wretched drunkards were former adventurers themselves. But too many waste their lives away on the barstool, waiting for some kind of emotional pain to dissipate or for good paying work to materialize out of thin air. It is no surprise that these men (and some women) die either inside or on their way to/from the tavern. These are the souls that become tavern prowlers.