You make through the winding streets to the Adventurer's Guild.

It's an uneventful trip to Local City branch of the Adventurer's guild. The imposing building is one of the few marble structures that isn't plastered with The Church's emblem, and stands at equal height with the nearby temple. It's not surprising, given the close ties between the two organizations. Passing under the judging gaze of titanic stone warriors, you enter the guildhall.

Within, there's a steady line of youth waiting to be received, and all of them join you in gawking at the visiting veteran heroes garbed in implausibly decorative armor. Most of the men have hammers and swords as wide as your torso, and the women all carry staves and bows that outright shine with magical potency. Of course, as a virile young man, you're having trouble not noticing the swooping necklines of their bikini mail and the rounded codpieces as big as your head. Heroic proportions immediately takes on a whole new meaning in your mind, as well as the other soon-to-be recruits.

"Next!" calls out a tired voice. The line shuffles forwards, and you realize that your turn is only minutes away. You're suddenly uncomfortably aware of your second-hand leather padding and chipped sword, not to mention the fact that your head barely clears the shoulders of the guy in front of you.