A brash wind washed over the plains of the Bluemarch. The vast plains field around the stronghold-town of Steppenwolf. From the main gate's watchtower, anyone with a spyglass (or an especially keen eye) could scan the hills and mountains on the horizon and make out the city-states that ringed the region.<br/><br/>Dominating the town, even more than the palace of the local merchant-prince, was the Thorn & Talon, an ancient castle-turned-inn catering to the various caravans that crossed through on their way from one edge of the region to the other.<br/><br/>While the inn bustled with merchants, mercenaries, and other travelers feasting, gambling, making or breaking deals, and or taking in the entertainment, the inn was openly operated by an organization with a very different kind of business.<br/><br/>The castle's eastern wing, informally referred to as "The Chapel", housed the headquarters of the Choir of Swords assassins guild, and they were currently holding a banquet in their courtyard to honor the assassins recently promoted to elite status<em><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;"> (that's you guys!)</span></em><br/><br/>The courtyards was heavily decorated with exotic fauna from across the world, chosen for beauty, thorniness, and toxicity (not necessarily in that order). Tables were set up and crammed with culinary delights (which were not poisoned, in spite of the guild chef's insistence that it would be a great joke and a "test of awareness" for the attendees), and sensuously clad neophytes busily ensured everyone's cups were full.<br/><br/>Most of the guild's high officers were not yet in attendance. Presumably, they were waiting for everyone to get the chit-chat out before entering, at which point the guild's leader, the Stiletto Queen, would be making her customary speech.