In the shadowy domains of evil lords, it’s best to look busy when the boss shows up. This is true even for the dregs of society. Riff-Raff are the guys who hang about poorly lit taverns, swilling low-quality ale and lowering property values. When the battle horns sound, they’re eager both to see some action and to avoid any excuse for their dark masters to single them out as an “example.” Armed with the finest drinks and weapons to be found in your average bar and/or possibly the stables out back, Riff-Raff are the living embodiment of “catapult fodder”.
The primary strength of the Riff-Raff is their stupidity. They literally have the words "expendable" stamped on their ID cards, but they nonetheless manage to convince themselves that they're an unstoppable fighting machine. This is patently untrue, but allows them to face unholy terrors on the field of battle without wetting themselves. (Much.)
Very rarely, someone among the Riff-Raff will sober up long enough to survive and seek promotion to the Menacing Horde. Such displays of ambition are frowned upon however, and anyone caught making the other Riff-Raff look bad by comparison is in for a swirly or two.