Tarsakh 20, 1368 DR: The Year of the Banner<br/><br/>Tankards sloshed and ale dripped down the arms of the men in the center of the main room of The Rusty Shield as they toasted each other for their hard work earlier that day. It was obvious from the attire they wore - fancy enough to show mild wealth, practical enough to not be a hindrance - that they were members of one of the city's many guilds. In walked a man with clothing a bit fancier and less practical with a worried, irritated expression on his face. He nods to the men at the table and orders a drink. He then sits at a table in the corner, facing the men at the table, but looking to the floor instead as if deep in thought. Occasionally, the men would turn and glance his way, noting his expression and appearing concerned as to what was bothering him.<br/><br/>The bartender, a muscular man with shoulder-length black hair, wipes a pair of clay mugs with a rag before putting them upside-down on a shelf under the counter. He then picks up two more mugs in his left hand and sets them in a large basin of hot, soapy water to be cleaned.<br/><br/>The man in the corner occasionally glances around the room, as if looking for someone.<br/><br/>The Rusty Shield, a busy tavern near the point where the Dock Ward, Trades Ward, and Castle Ward meet, is a common gathering place for adventurers who want to listen to tales of adventuring and tell a few of their own. There are serving maids going from table to table bringing food and drinks on large platters and taking payment for them back through two doors to the kitchen.