"Well come, ENventurer," shouts the barkeeper, Mo, over the voices of other guild members and from behind the bar. The tavern is friendly enough and well-lit by a hearth. It has clean-ish floors, a scent of charred grue and sweat, and lots of tankard-wielding patrons.
You weave your way to the bar.
"We have kegs of ale, even some mead," Mo mentions. "I'm still trying to sort out who's here to tell stories, barter, or sell services. Have a drink while you wait." Mo pushes a tankard in front of you.
