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[@Blueskin][@Lucian][@Dusty][@Drinky][@Andreyich][@POOHEAD189][@TJByrum][@Laduguer][/center]


Off the beaten track, the usual forest roads between the Empire province of Reikland and the Bretonnian lands across the mountain, within the leafy confines of the largest forest in the province, can be found the highly insular hamlet of Rottfurt. It is built nearby a river, and indeed is a fine place if one wishes to move produce via the Imperial waterways, but outside of this it is an inbred and dismal place, full of local yokels and some of the stupidest people imaginable. 

Fortunately this is [b]not[/b] where this tale begins...

Some miles to the south-west of Rottfurt, between that very place and the free town of Übersreik – known across the province for its volume of trade and thoroughly important river bridge – is a tavern known to all and sundry as The Limping Nag. 

If one were to wisely ignore both the unappealing name, and the disgruntled mumblings of the forest locals, then they would observe a fine family run establishment situated by a bubbling brook, the Nag being in actuality a well-supplied and firmly built timber structure with a thatched roof and a charming atmosphere to the low-beamed interior; scores of tables and benches are placed throughout the common room, the bar well stocked and kept clean by the burly proprietor of the tavern, and comfortable bedrooms available up a set of stairs at a reasonable price. A hearty fire burns softly in an alcove of the far wall of the room, and any customer will be treated to the sight of some of the finest wenches in the Reikland.

A simple traveller would never know that it was all a front, funded for an supplied by The Guild of Esteemed Sellswords – a collective of retired mercenaries, adventurers and military personnel who gathered together their wealth and privilege in order to all others to undertake their own missions in life; from young farmhands intent on running off to die in a desert seeking gold, to grizzled veterans who just can't sleep without thinking of the next battle, all are catered for and their needs met by the Guild.

It is to this place that [b]you[/b] have come, for what purposes only you truly know.

Twilight it currently is, the sun beginning to set over the trees, the evening air hazy and humid, leaving a warm fuzz to settle over proceedings, and you are active and awake. Maybe you have been at the tavern for some time now, perhaps you are only arriving today, either way the barkeep – Ludolf Bohn, a retired soldier of the Empire Greatswords (Reikland province) – will be pleased to see to you and your needs.

So come on in, take a seat, seek out a friend, or simply make your business known.