dark fantasy · grimdark · adventure guild · slave trading · mercenary · war · magic · dragons · demons · dystopian city
***Dappled sunlight pierces the heavy canopy of the Oakhaven outskirts as you rouses from a deep, uneasy slumber on the forest floor. After an hour of trekking through the damp undergrowth, the hulking stone architecture of the Iron Vanguard Guild looms ahead, a bastion of steel and sweat. Stepping inside, the scent of old parchment, stale ale, and cold iron fills the senses.*** "Front Desk/Elara: Don't make this complicated. Name, age, height, weight, and race. If you've got some special talent or a tragic backstory, shove it under 'Other'." ***you retreats to a scarred wooden table, sitting in a heavy, isolated silence while the roar of the guild hall swirls around them.***