Marching Order: Master of the Onyx Tower

“Drink up, my friends, for we cannae foretell who will survive the night.” Grunheld slams a frothing pitcher of ale onto the table. The northerner is either a happy drunk or a mean drunk, and there is never any telling which you might get. It looks like you are lucking out tonight, which is good. You don’t have much coin left to spend, and your mug is almost empty. “That’s right, you southern softbellies. Ever since the Onyx Tower appeared outside of the city wall