We have tamed unseen forces and reshaped foreign wisdom to suit our realm. Not our first season at the forge — nor our first campaign to restore order. Summon the guild of veteran masters to the quest!
Tell us of your trade — the seers shall reveal the bitter truth.
Each lunar cycle you forfeit: 0 gold crowns
Such losses cannot stand! Summon the guild — we shall mend your ledgers and answer swifter than an arrow flies.
While others idle in their halls, we hone our craft. Every champion in our guild is a forge of wonders unto himself. We take your trouble bare-handed, run it through the millstones of our skill, and deliver pure gold and iron order.
Masters and their wondrous trades
He wins by wit, strategy, and a word well spoken — never by sorcery alone.
Mistress of stone halls. She breathes life into burnt cottages and forsaken manors.
Lord of the sky-ravens. He sees through deep forests and leagues of road.
Armorer of body and spirit. He outfits companies with gear for heroic deeds.
He awakens inns with spells of thought, so all runs of its own accord.
No apprenticeships, no childish games. We arrive, we work, we place the result upon your table. The guild vouches for every master with its honor.
Court of the Grand Mentor
Above our guild stands the Wise Sovereign, Lord of Lore. He taught us our letters; he showed us the path.
"Think yourself our equal? Ready to sit at table with veteran masters and raise the cup of brotherhood?"
Send a messenger with your plea right now. The guild is in high demand; we take only quests that stir the heart.
With a face so green, and a place among the shield-wall? The porridge on your lip has not yet dried! Go sup your broth, eat a pound of salt, gather your strength, and fill your head with wisdom first!
