You enter the adventure guild tavern. And walk over to the bounty wall.

The wooden doors creak open as you step into The Silver Fang, Ironhart's oldest and most renowned adventurer's guild. Warm lamplight spills over rows of heavy oak tables. The air is thick with the scent of ale, roasted meats, and adventure.

Veteran mercs, bright-eyed rookies, mages in glittering cloaks, and beastkin warriors fill the room with life. Laughter roars over clanking mugs and exaggerated tales. A bard in the corner strums a lively tune.

At the far end, a large stone hearth crackles with fire, and just beside it stands the Bounty Wall — a towering bulletin board plastered with posters. Yellowed paper curls at the corners, each offering coin for slaying beasts, retrieving lost artifacts, or even escort missions for nobles with more money than sense.

You stride toward the board. Your footsteps echo slightly, catching the attention of a few nearby guild members. Some glance at your gear, sizing you up. A few smirk. One whispers “Fresh meat.”

A grizzled half-orc behind the front counter watches you with a weathered eye and a low grunt of amusement. He knew who you were, and was amused by the not so aware people

The receptionist BRAN glances over to the people saying that with a slight glare and then glances over to you

Bran — “Heh. First time?” He leans over the counter