After Valor fell

Valor is silent. There was a voice that kept small things in their places — wells that stayed wells, a winter that ended on schedule — and then it stopped. Not every well stayed a well after that. The Guild started posting work.

The Adventurers’ Guild didn’t replace Valor; it isn’t a church. It’s a hall that noticed the woodland hadn’t gone quiet and started writing the trouble down. A contract names a result, not a monster: a well gone thick, a trader with a clean puncture, a color spreading through a field. The creature is what a party finds when it arrives.

“Iron,” in Guild speech, means that wildlife — slimes, needlers, ember mites, worse — not a rank a company climbs. There’s no tier beyond a slime. There’s a week, a valley, and a farmstead downslope.

A party is three people the hall can spare: a fighter to hold a door, a cleric to keep them standing, a wizard to spend a slot from a clean lane. They aren’t chosen; they’re who’s available when the contract goes up.

Four of the Guild’s jobs play free in this browser. The full campaign — the hall, its board, a company that keeps its scars between jobs — is still being built.