Every generation or so, the Barbarian Kings west of the Dragonspine Mountains set aside their rivalries and blood feuds and turn their eyes eastward to the kingdoms of Shilia. They become the Ironhost, and they spill into the eastern realms like starved wolves to raid and pillage.
And so it is that after a blessed and overlong march of 22 peaceful years, in the late spring three months ago, the first accounts of wildmen at the fringes of the realm did herald the return of the Ironhost. These are dangerous times here in the Commonwealth of Shailia.
But these are concerns for Lords and Statesmen. You find yourselves in the coastal township of Whitehall as far from the dangers of barbarian hoards as the seas will allow.
The man’s name is Branic, and he has been very good at finding lucrative endeavors for you in the past. If he couldn’t pay you outright, he made certain that the caper he presented to you would, much like the proposal he hinted at to you and a few other professionals this Moonday past. If you found the offer favorable you were to meet with him at the end of the week in the usual place at the usual time.
So here you sit on a Freeday afternoon waiting for your reliable patron of wealth and danger. Only he hasn’t showed up yet. Branic, the famed procurer and agent to adventurers, the instigator of quests and rewarding peril who always arrives as promised in a timely manner… is late.