The only light that ever touched the cold, stone walls came from within; possessing the form of sickly torch fire. The masonry, if it could be called that, took shape as crudely arranged, jagged rocks. Passageways whipped and turned in a network of tunnels. Here and there were rooms; some all but empty, others nearly full. Several rooms were decorated with chipped weaponry, tattered tapestries, or various human bones.

Most of the inhabitants of the area were gathered in a single meeting room that was almost in the shape of a square. Empty; save for the table that stood like an altar at the far end. Undecorated; save for the words: “Who’s afraid of the Scanty Man” scribed in red upon one of the walls.

A sizable group of men and women were gathered in the room. The meeting was called with very little notice, but none were compelled to deny the order for their presence at the assembly.

Many of the rogues there appeared as cold and hardened as the halls in which they dwelled. Other went to great effort to make themselves seem cold and hardened.