Evrend walked through the undulating crowds of the Marketplace district. He moved in intervals from crowd to crowd as he made his way to what a fur merchant had mentioned was the direction of the "Griffonclaw Guild". Amidst idle conversation of the farthing biting foreigners and their penchant for trying to bargain the tradesmen to their very undergarments, he had also mentioned that the guild had been quite active as of late.

Evrend's eyes caught the shine of a dagger slitting the strings of an inattentive sailor's coin purse while haggling over salted fish with a merchant, who by the ever so subtle grin on his face, was on the take. Evrend continued his drift through the rabble, and smells, and "enterprise" towards his goal.

The comfort of obscurity had left him as he reached the outer limits of the Marketplace and neared the Guild. Continuing his idle progress he arrived some 40 paces from what he believed to be his destination to find what can only be described as a well traveled man of average height, armed to the teeth and eating a pastry... seemingly contemplating the building before him.

"It seems I've arrived then..."