BlackoutThieving
Content
The Arcane Guild of Barkbrew, Arc 1: Adventurers, Assemble!
The Guild of Barkbrew covered up by a truly encapsulating graphic
A river, the Sproutholm River, the water as clear as water filtered through an pseudo-industrial, mercantile, filthy capital could be, ran through the forest beside a path that had probably been graveled some decades ago. At the end of the path a middle-aged man, probably in his forties but well over his peak, stands embedded in a craggy green coat, seemingly awaiting someone, or maybe anyone. He scrambled with a stack of papers, if the amount of papers could even be called a stack, and his head flickEd up from the descriptions of his new employees and onto the end of the path leading to the woodhouse hideout, that would by anyone not working for the Taxation of Sproutholm Real Estate department be called the Guildhouse of Barkbrew. A crow hung out on the railing of the guildhouse, crowing slightly.
You just arrived at the Guildhouse of Barkbrew, a name that might sound related to location, but lies in the middle of Sproutholm forest, a forest that is, unlike the guild, named adequately. It had been a sketchy path, both as in an uncomfortable, ominous walk in the woods, and a barely defined trail, were you not to have encountered a fellow colleague attempting to follow the dotted pathway.
“Okay uhh, I assume you’ve all arrived now?”
He scurried through the papers, his eyes oscillating between the head of each guild-member and the coffee stained stack. A single paper was blown out of his hand before landing in the river. He looked at it idly, before shrugging and returning his gaze onto the group.
“I think we’re all here, we’ll do introductions”
He looked down at the top of the stack and haphazardly pointed at the leftmost individual, his other hand gripping the remaining papers firmly, adamant not to let mother nature interfere with his business venture.
“You there, introduce yourself”
His decrepit green pointed hat flailed slightly in the wind, along with his coat, which would be described by anyone looking at it as more of a robe, as it had lost it’s shape through the years.
-*NPC unlocked: Chester Squaggleskirt, Guildmaster of The Arcane Guild of Barkbrew*-
The Guild of Barkbrew covered up by a truly encapsulating graphic
A river, the Sproutholm River, the water as clear as water filtered through an pseudo-industrial, mercantile, filthy capital could be, ran through the forest beside a path that had probably been graveled some decades ago. At the end of the path a middle-aged man, probably in his forties but well over his peak, stands embedded in a craggy green coat, seemingly awaiting someone, or maybe anyone. He scrambled with a stack of papers, if the amount of papers could even be called a stack, and his head flickEd up from the descriptions of his new employees and onto the end of the path leading to the woodhouse hideout, that would by anyone not working for the Taxation of Sproutholm Real Estate department be called the Guildhouse of Barkbrew. A crow hung out on the railing of the guildhouse, crowing slightly.
You just arrived at the Guildhouse of Barkbrew, a name that might sound related to location, but lies in the middle of Sproutholm forest, a forest that is, unlike the guild, named adequately. It had been a sketchy path, both as in an uncomfortable, ominous walk in the woods, and a barely defined trail, were you not to have encountered a fellow colleague attempting to follow the dotted pathway.
“Okay uhh, I assume you’ve all arrived now?”
He scurried through the papers, his eyes oscillating between the head of each guild-member and the coffee stained stack. A single paper was blown out of his hand before landing in the river. He looked at it idly, before shrugging and returning his gaze onto the group.
“I think we’re all here, we’ll do introductions”
He looked down at the top of the stack and haphazardly pointed at the leftmost individual, his other hand gripping the remaining papers firmly, adamant not to let mother nature interfere with his business venture.
“You there, introduce yourself”
His decrepit green pointed hat flailed slightly in the wind, along with his coat, which would be described by anyone looking at it as more of a robe, as it had lost it’s shape through the years.
-*NPC unlocked: Chester Squaggleskirt, Guildmaster of The Arcane Guild of Barkbrew*-
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