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I'll start with Sever's reply first.

Sever arrived at the outer gates to the Golden Blade Adventuring Company's hall. The gates were massive, and it was with an appreciative eye that Sever noted the walls and gates surrounding the company's land were not just ornamental but also functional defenses as well. Windows cut out in such a pattern that they resemble creeping vines also doubled as arrow slits. The massive iron gates that swung in were bordered by ornate wooden doors backed in steel that swing shut behind the gate to reinforce it. Still beyond the doors, cunningly tucked into the archway is a portcullis, one final measure to ensure the gates safety. The merlons atop the wall had beautiful carved dragons atop them. With a brief examination Sever determined that the dragons are in place to hold either pitch or oil. Either one could be lit and poured down atop an attacking army. The hall was more like a keep, it simply hid its true nature. Likely this place could hold off a siege for quite some time, and Sever found himself thinking that he would not be at all surprised to find that there was an underground water supply within the walls.

He had been admiring the scenery while waiting comfortably at a table just inside the gates. It's a small stone table obviously for when one wishes to take their leisure outside. It is just the type of frill that helps disguise this place as something other than the fortress it is. After a brief wait a man approached Sever. It was obvious that he was one of the legendary half giant goliaths. Tall and broad, and simply standing there, still and calm, he seemed ready for violence. He wore a simple battle harness, and when he spoke it was soft as a whisper but with an underlying strength, "If you would, follow me please." Sever nodded slightly and rose to his feet like a snake uncoiling. The two went around the side of the building, each keeping their thoughts to themselves. As they approached the back of the building Sever could see a large clearing, several hundred yards to a side.

One end is completely filled with the various craftsmen it took to keep an adventuring party going. There are smiths and fletchers and bowyers, all busy at work. The rest of this massive field is given over to training areas. Men grappling with one another, dozens of others at swordplay. One man faces a dozen others, their swords in a constant clanging riot of sound as his two blades keep all of theirs at bay. In another area archers fire into targets; again one man stands out from the rest. He stands several hundred yards from his targets, which were magical animations moving about the field in a seemingly random pattern. His arrows flew one after another in a blinding pace. Each one struck its target, and when all the targets had been struck he began splitting the arrows he had already launched.

They stood watching for a moment before the large man spoke again, "I am Jak, I was at the battle of four pillars. Many people died there, some friends of mine. Eventually I was there alone, another innocent caught in the tide of battle. The Golden Blade had sent a group there to assist. Were it not for them, Four Pillars would have ended much differently. When the battle was ended there was not a single body wearing the mark of the Golden Blade. All of their people had survived. This is not a company that takes in just anyone. Rather these men and women are all something special. To be invited here is an honor, and while your skills are, as I've been told, quite impressive, remember that you are among impressive company." 

"Here we have trained, crafted, and molded some of the greatest heroes of lore and legend. Malgar, the bugbear monk who faught alongside his party to restore one of the lost realms. Buckthorn, the banished pixie warlock, who ended the threat from the Cult Of Seven Winds. Alamorn, the knight who broke the seige on Wintercrest single handed. Barom, the wizard better known as The Death Wind. The same Death Wind who slaughtered the army of orcs marching on Galadrew." As Jak continues to name some of the great heroes who had their beginnings with the Golden Blade you recognize more and more of those names. Slowly it becomes evident to Sever that he may be in the company of people who's talents are on a par with his own.

There was one final shock waiting for him, however.

Jak motioned politely for Sever to follow again. As they made their way into the back door of the Keep and beyond the common areas Jak begin's to speak again, "The Versing would like to speak with you for a moment, and should you decide to stay, he will arrange for your quarters until you are sent on your first contract."

Jak escorted Sever to what could, possibly, be called an office. A room large enough for a small family to call home, it was covered with every sort of weapon Sever had ever seen, and some he could only guess at the function of. Here, it appeared, the only trophies were the weapons that caught their new owner's eye. As Sever's eyes wandered back from the assorted weaponry, he had quite a shock. He recognized the Versing. More shocking though, Caratak of the Senon, one of the most renowned warriors still living, was doing the ledgers. At least that's what it looked like. 

Sever swaggered his way through the door, regardless of whether he was impressed or not he wouldn't let it show, and came to a stop before the Versing's desk. Without looking up, or stopping his pen from scritching across the book's parchment, Caratak said in a pleasant voice, "Please, be seated, I didn't expect Jak to have brought you so quickly, is there anything you'd like? Something to drink?"

The Mul's voice was smooth and cultured. He sounded nothing like a man who had been born a slave, lived as a slave more than twenty years, and then led one of the largest revolutions in known history. Wielding nothing but hand picks, wooden boards, and rocks, the Muls, outnumbered fifteen to one, managed to overpower and subdue or kill their former masters. The organization and leadership of the revolt was attributed entirely to Caratak. If reports from people with firsthand knowledge is to be believed, over half the killing was done by Caratak as well. Many Muls, particularly those who hail from within the area known as the Iron Circle, wear pendents with his likeness on them; a reminder of who he was, what they were, and what was done for them. 

 Sever seats himself slowly as he responds, "Mead would be good." Again without looking up Caratak speaks, "Jak, if you would, two meads, and can you send Glaspin to wait outside teh door?" Jak pours the meads from a bottle with a long curving neck set on a tray beside the door. Several empty tankards sit ready there, and Jak makes use of two before delivering the ales, and taking his leave, being sure to close the door behind himself.

The moment the door is closed Caratak sets down his pen and looks up at Sever for the first time. They stare at one another for several moments before Caratak speaks, "You're no end of trouble. You'll likely always be trouble. Out there, in the world, on your own? There's no telling the damage you would do. I'll be honest. I've heard about your destruction. I want to harness it. In return you get to work with people as competent as you. You get paid, and one other thing. I've heard of your little feud. While doing good works isn't very likely to be high up on your list of priorities, stopping Belroar and his ilk would serve both yourself, and the greater good. I'll have feelers out looking to see if we can turn up information. What we know, you'll know. Just remember this though, you're part of a team. Their strengths and weaknesses will all be different from your own, but they're every bit as useful."

Before another word is spoken Glaspin opens the door, turning you see the well groomed dwarf, and by the time you turn back Caratak is once more in his ledger. You begin to follow the dwarf when you hear Caratak call out, the smile evident in his voice, "Enjoy your stay, and don't worry, you won't be bored for long."