To Arms! To Arms!

[Suede]

There, in a tavern amidst the thicket of roofs and chimneys in the eastern fringes of the town, people came and went in small packs. Peasants, furtive and unsure, farmers, militia, even perhaps some local Brotherhood, some concerned Lothbury perhaps?

But none came to expose a calamity, or to examine the rumors they were hearing. No, they came to see if they were true, was their own salvation being provided in so run-down and meager a locale? Groups, perhaps three and four came at a time, sometimes farmers with their sons. And what would they find within?

Gathering about four tables within would be low lifes true and through, several slick with their hair and silver of tongue bantering over ale and conversing with the few others that had come to inspect the goods. Weapons of every make, fashion and sort, drifted in throughout the province, to be sold here... at reasonable rates, severe discounts to ensure all could arm themselves and defend their families. Wasn't this longsword absolutely divine? Enchanted to be sure, and crafted by dwarves no less, but I can let it pass to you at a cheap rate.

Should anyone of authority hear the stories and come calling, they'd find nothing of the sort, quick action leading them away, or causing the goods to disappear as warning came.

And all of it would be presided over by a slight man, tucked in the corner of the tavern on some nights. His face was always covered, but the eyes held a touch of red to them through the shadows.