The Adventurers' Guild occupied a broad stone hall in Lords' Borough, a short walk away from the Rabbit Hole.
Its doors stood open from dawn until midnight, admitting a constant stream of mercenaries, treasure hunters, monster slayers, and hopeful fools.
Inside, a forest of notices covered the walls, each offering coin in exchange for danger. Some promised a handful of silver for clearing mutated rats from a cellar, while others offered fortunes for expeditions into the depths below the city.
The hopeful read them with excitement. The veterans read them with caution.
The guild existed to connect the two and to ensure that, when possible, the adventurers returned alive.
Adam paused at the front of the guildhall's broad stone steps, his eyes blazing with excitement.
His attire consisted of simple trousers and a tunic, a leather pauldron on his left shoulder, a pair of vambraces, and high-knee leather boots. All of it had been borrowed from Hannibal.
