The travelers, for various reasons, have come to Oldfen. A large town, and it would seem at some point recently there must have been an attack as the walls show scars of recent combat. Few shops exist outside the walls of the city, and large parapets rise above the gates of the city.
Your first stop, as it is late in the day, and your joints ache from a dusty travel, is a local tavern. Not just any tavern would do, you hear rumor of the tavern to go to.
And there it is, but a short walk from the city gates, the Silver Bullete! The large wooden sign squeaks in the gentle evening breeze, beckoning you to go inside.
A boisterous image assaults the senses-magical lanterns float above the tables, a Gnome minstrel plays a jovial tune dancing about the hearth. A group of human mercenaries play a game of dice with a man with coppery skin. A group of Half-orcs are engaged in an almost violent drinking contest with a group of Dwarves, most likely down from the Five Peaks.
The night wears on, and you see a few notable individuals of various crafts, when a brawl breaks out.
It started when the Orcs insulted the statue and parentage of a small Halfling monk (who was, for the most part, minding his own business). Though small, he was a fierce fighter. Headbutting and punching orcs into unconsciousness. An elven female sapped a few of the orcs (and the dwarves, for good measure). The constabulary arrived minutes later, asking who was responsible. Naturally fingers pointed at everyone else (an honest half-orc pointed out himself, whether this was out of honesty or stupidity it is hard to tell). With a sigh, the constable motions for his deputy to gather ‘the most likely culprits’ and to have them spend a night in the prison.
It is here, in the dark cold cell, as morning dawns, that we find our would-be heroes. Waking (or perhaps already awake if they didn’t sleep) to the sound of keys in a lock.