"We need to do something about that adventures' guild," he leaned back on his chair.
Reynard Aurley was a balding man: as if he had shaved his hair as a tonsure. His head was glistening with sweat, as it rolled down his ears and hung over his brown beard. His beard didn't make him look handsome, it was there to hide the scars and pits on his face.
His dark black eyes rolled and looked around the long table. They all gathered at the town guild hall. Normally, such a union was usually to discuss the wages of each job, what work each shop gets, or something along the lines of overall profit. But this meeting was different.
Across the table, sat the masters of each trade, and the journeymen that were close to being masters themselves. To the left, sat the masters of the craft guilds; strong and wide, and to his right sat the masters of the merchant guilds; posh and clean.