It is a warm summers day at the newly formed Lucrative Justice guild hall. Through equal parts prestidigitation and good solid dwarven ingenuity the meeting room is comfortable despite the recent heatwave. With most of the senior members out on commissions, the hall is filled primarily with new recruits looking to make a name for themselves. An elf, you recognize as Borio, limbs his way to the speakers chair.
“My friends. I’ve called you together today because one of our own is in trouble. Just hours ago I received this message via a magical sending.”
Standing, Borio pulls a sheet of fresh parchment from a belt pouch which is passed about the room.
“The message is clear and disturbing. Nym, one of our founding members has been captured at sea. His message was short but we know that the crew is alive, at the time of the sending, and being held on Mistfang Island. A team will be leaving at once to attempt a rescue. Sadly, my recent injuries will not allow me to go myself. Any of you who know me also know I’m not one for flowery speeches. One of our brothers is in trouble and were going to go get him. I need five volunteers. If more are interested then I will choose the ones I believe have the greatest chance for success. Volunteers please stand.”
A grim sort of smile creeps over Borio’s face as each and every member in attendance rises to their feet.
“Bahamut’s Justice be with you.”