The cobblestone streets of the modest town of Pinch Pols are filled with visitors, many hoping to compete in the tournament in a couple of weeks others looking to capitalize on the coin to be made - or stolen. The blacksmith's forge fire never seems to go out these days, burning late into the night and starting again early in the morning. The rhythmic thud of his hammer is only barely drowned out by the gossip of the travelers and denizens of Pinch Pols. The smith doesn't mind all the coin he is earning but he wished he had more time to focus on the armor the mayor special ordered. A sign posted outside his shop asked for supplies he needed and couldn't seem to find but he'd yet to have any takers.

Outside the marbled halls of the official church of Combedea in worship of Kaher was a young Priestess who looked uncomfortable about being put in the middle of yet another argument between the Aderan and Hyde families. She was covered head to foot in the white robes of Kaher but her violent eyes looked almost panicked. What had caused the original feud centuries ago? Who knows? But at least once a week one family is demanding satisfaction from the other and the church must get involved to stay any bloodshed. It seemed blood would be spilt this week no matter what the church said. The two patriarchs of the opposing families were ranting and raving at each other, spittle flying from their mouths like rabid dogs.

In the town square laborers are setting up for the tournament and the other festivities that accompany the yearly ritual to test who is the strongest in all of Combedea. There is a fortune to be made in Combedea if one doesn't mind the possibility of loss of limb or life.

@Delta44

Saxan felt odd walking among the streets, for most of his life, he had been used to patrolling battlefields and wilderness for Sentran soldiers or bandits, the city was very much different from what he was used to, a different sort of wilderness, one where only man lived and one where man ruled. While the city itself was not a big one, it was one of the bigger ones that he had seen and big cities meant more people and more people meant more attention towards him.

Thankfully, he was not alone in this, he had friends close by that he could distract himself with from the attention he received. While he had many of his former army friends with him, the one he was currently interested at the moment was the young cleric Blue Kismet, the girl to whom he owed his life. Despite the fact that she was from Mawtry and was basically forced to join the Combedean military, she was determined to save lives, no matter from what nation they were.

However, as his thought wandered, he was distracted by a ruckus as he passed in front of one of the temples that was dedicated to Kaher. Two families were arguing rather loudly outside the temple without any care for the scene they were making, he remembered vaguely hearing from a merchant as he was passing that the Aderan and Hyde families had a long-running feud and that they would often gather asking for just recompense for an offense that many could not remember. And in the middle of it all sat a young priestess, scared of being caught between the bloodshed that would surely arise.

"What is going on here?" Saxan shouted so he could make himself heard amongst all the bickering. "What is so important that you must make fools of yourselves in the middle of the day like this?" he asked sternly, to try and impose himself as figure of authority.

The mortuary arts are delicate and precise. Some brutes hacked away at corpses like a butcher hacking meat, and then had the gall to proclaim their "findings" to be legitimate; Nergal had met a fair few in his travels, both as colleagues and rivals. Not so with him: his work was always precise and meticulous, all his cuts careful, and all his observations thoroughly noted in the mass of notes on the table next to him. As he cut into the specimen's lungs, a terrible stench arose that threatened to overwhelm even his own dulled senses. Clearly, the child's body had been buried for too long to be of much use, but he had had little choice in the matter, all the fresher graves near the town walls being too risky to excavate.

He currently worked in the cellar of old Yorm, the aged local for whom he was acting as physician. In return for caring for his host's myriad of health issues, he was permitted to peruse his research unmolested in the dark cellar, far enough underground for noise and stench to be masked from the surface. To be sure, Yorm didn't know what exactly his "research" was, and if he did he would likely throw Nergal out, skilled medicine or no. He would likely be chased out of the town entirely if his secret was known. Most scholars were irrationally close minded about the learning of the dead, let alone the superstitious and ignorant townsfolk of Combedean. It would be no use to reason that knowledge of the dead is required to treat the living; already, he knew that suspicion was drawing close to himself, his grave robbing having come to light recently. He would have to move towns soon enough if he intended to stay away from the gallows.

When he was satisfied he had learned everything that could be learned from the corpse - as little as that was - he gathered his notes and sketches and swept the rotten bits of flesh that were left into a large pot. He made a mental note to empty the rapidly filling pot that night - he knew Yorm would be visiting a friend, leaving him free to sneak it out to dispose of in the local river. He washed his hands thoroughly, as was his habit, gathered his things, and climbed up the stairs leading to the rest of the house. He swung the thick wood door closed as he passed through and locked it. To be safe, he pulled a large stone the size out of a pouch in his robe. The Black Shard pulsated as he whispered the words of power that installed an Alarm spell on the door. Should any intruder mess around with the door, he would know it immediately.

Satisfied, he left the rustic manse on the outskirts and made his way into the heart of the town. He needed to purchase some salves required for Yorm's gout, much as he disliked the bright daylight and the crowds. He was vaguely aware of some kind of festival coming up, though he cared little for such things himself. As he passed near the Church of Kaher he became aware of a great deal of noise. As he approached the site of worship he found a mob gathering in front of it, cheering on as two bands shouted at each other. Why, he could not guess; the proclivities of the townsfolk were both barbaric and nonsensical to him.

He was just about to move on when a very large and very imposing dragonborn pushed through the crowd and interrupted the commotion. The creature intrigued him; he was equipped as if for war, but did not appear as the usual drunken guards did. Nergal remained standing in the back of the crowd, watching. For reasons he could not quite say, his attention was piqued.

Ever since he received his task from Odin Stronghammer, Patron of Smiths, Durwith Bronzebeard had been completely unable to find the time to actually start working on it. Odin had warned Durwith that there would be those who would see Durwith's task never started to begin with. But at the time, Durwith had no idea that they would be so relentless in their attempts to stop him. No sooner had Durwith departed the Hall of Paragons to start work on his task, he found himself ambushed by a group of duergar mercenaries who grew to towering heights and attempted to crush Durwith to dust. They would have succeeded had they let Durwith put a little more distance between himself and the heavily guarded Hall of Paragons. After that, Durwith decided to follow a word of advice imparted to him by Radmaeg Silverjaw, Patron of Adventurers, and not stay in 1 place for too long. Some time later, Durwith found himself on the other side of the continent still pursued constantly by those who don't want him to even begin his task.

Today found himself in a place called Pinch Pols, which was an absolutely absurd name in Durwith's opinion. But even so, the Flugasil Smith's Guild had a presence in the city. I might have been a small presence, but it was still large enough to get him somewhere to work on his task in peace so long as he could reach the guild hall before his pursuers found him again.

As he walked, Durwith passed a fellow blacksmith's forge. The smith within was hard at work and making some very respectable headway. Durwith also noticed a sign asking for someone to acquire supplies for him so that he may work on a commission from the mayor of the city. Durwith made a mental note to see what he could do about that if he had the chance before continuing on.

Durwith then came to a temple dedicated to Kaher. In front of which stood 4 people of note. 3 of them were humans, 2 noblemen and a priestess, and 1 of them was a red dragonborn monk. The 2 noblemen seemed to be arguing over something while the priestess and the monk tried to mediate the argument. Normally, Durwith wasn't 1 to involve himself in arguments. Especially in arguments between nobles. But if the look on the priestess' face was anything to go by, this argument was quite clearly bothering her. Nothing boiled Durwith's blood like a young lady in distress. Durwith marched into earshot just in time to hear the monk ask why the nobles were arguing. "Well quite frankly, I couldn't care less about what caused your argument" Durwith stated as he fixed both noblemen with a steely glare "What I do care about though is that your argument is clearly bothering this nice young lady. And I will have none of that. So now you 2 have a choice. You can start acting your age, settle this argument in a civil manner, and then go about the rest of your day. Or you can continue to act like misbehaving children and be punished as such. Choose wisely".

Dear mother...
Proofreading was not one of Kismet's strong suits. She never considered herself much for reading or writing, as the opportunity for scholarship never came to her. Unlike her older brothers and sisters, Kismet didn't inherit much of her father's brains, instead finding herself far better-suited to hitting things really hard with a pickaxe.
Of course, that life didn't last long. Between visions, appointments with a higher being, and the duties of a cleric, the young woman hardly found an opportunity to really explore the life of a bookworm. In fact the more she thought about it, the less choices she felt she had made for herself over the years.

Even so, she was humble by nature, not wanting to think too highly of her own position. She had been chosen, after all - gifted, as some would say. There were people out there who dreamed to live the life she had, in servitude of a noble being. It certainly gave her purpose, and she was forever thankful for that. Yet the thought didn't seem to want to leave.
Break time was almost over.
She folded the letter and sealed it, making sure to deposit it so the couriers of Pinch Pols could deliver. It would be quite the journey across the country for whoever was unlucky enough to be chosen for the delivery, however she didn't know the ins-and-outs of postal delivery. Kismet assumed it would be taken by one person at a time, but again, didn't really know what to think.

The day was bright and the sun warm against Kismet's noticeably lighter skin tone. Thankfully her armor protected her from the worst of the sun's harsh rays, however the warmth was still uncomfortable to her. She much preferred the cold to a sunny day.
The streets of Pinch Pols, while more crowded than most towns, were less so than some cities she had been to. It made her comfortable, at least more-so than the urban environments of Combedean did. Felt a little more like home. The blacksmith, especially, brought back memories of delivery ore so he could fashion them into swords. How one did so in freezing temperatures always astounded her in her youth, and she always wanted to learn.
Honestly, she still wanted to learn. Which was why she stopped by the blacksmiths most days before she went out.

They'd already spoken earlier, so Kismet didn't feel like approaching the hardworking man, though did watch him for a few moments - enough to notice his request which he had posted. Though she wanted to help, she hadn't any idea where to find the materials he needed, either. Also she was too far away to see what they were.
Guilty that she couldn't help the man, she walked away with a frown on her face, dejected. Perhaps if she could win the tournament she had a chance of getting the things he needed? While a good idea on paper, unless she could fight alongside others, it was likely she wouldn't make it out alive. Supposedly the strongest in all of Combedea proper were to compete, and Blue knew she was by no means the 'strongest' in anything, let alone fighting. Besides, healing the wounds of others was what she found herself liking the most; smiles had such a beautiful sheen compared to swords, after all.

The cleric spent so much time thinking in her own mind that she lost where she was going. Before long she'd passed into the town hall, where the laborers and locals gathered to help set up the tournament arena, as well as the stands. It seemed things were going smoothly, and, while compelled to join, didn't trust herself at doing a laborers work. She had a patrol to get to, and couldn't afford too many more distractions.

The bustle of tourists and locals alike made the area a bit more difficult to navigate. Some especially heavy traffic got her all mixed around, unable to really find her way. It dawned on Kismet that she would need somewhere large to act as a reference point in order to get where she needed to go.
Somewhere she could see above the other buildings easily. Something symbolic.

... Nothing came to mind, unfortunately, so she simply headed towards the church, hoping she could find some guidance from a local...

For the man that was Andhere Beaduric the squabble unfolding and attracting a number of onlookers was, without any doubt in his mind, a spectacle that would come to serve no one well. If not just because it was their station being disrupted, that they peasantry was coming to gawk, but if it came to blows upon the streets and blood down steps, the feuding families would demand further retribution - be it at the hand of the local magistrates, the sanctions of the church, or even to arms against one another until one would submit by force. It was this that caused him to near the scene, dabbing a bit of his forehead with a cloth before returning it behind the breast of his armor. One hand upon the hilt of sword that rest in his belt, the man used the other to guide aside some of the gawking onlookers. While few of them recognized just who he was, some quickly realized anyone bearing such noble adornments was a person of station and privilege, a world apart from them.

As he came to the edges of the babbling conflict, his ear's drew in the last bit of words uttered, though certainly from outsiders all the same, "... You can start acting your age, settle this argument in a civil manner, and then go about the rest of your day. Or you can continue to act like misbehaving children and be punished as such. Choose wisely."

Despite being there on the front line, steps away from the unfolding scuffle, the baron held his tongue for the moment, sizing up all the members so involved. Two distinct factions were evident, punctuated by their colors; the Aderans and the Hydes. With a long drawn breath through his nose, the knightly figure soon stood more rigid, a soft tilt to his head as he then so inspected the interlopers. Whoever they were, namely the large draconic being, their hearts seemed to be in the right place but for what reasons he could only guess. In fact, it left him to wonder some, especially as an air of familiarity hung over the situation at hand, at least with some of its members.

For the time being however? The seasoned noble allowed his presence to do more of the speaking for him. One of the families was likely to recognize him and in truth, it seemed those intervening already had a plot in motion. The real question was, who would bend knee and tuck their tail so as to not embarrass themselves further before a temple, its clergy, and the town, and who would attempt to fend for their honor no matter what the price was?

Lord Andrew Hyde was not used to be addressed in such a manner and the Dragonborn's presence quickly cowed him. He was even more frightened when addressed by the stern dwarf*. He pointed an ornately adorned finger at Lord Sebastian Aderan. "His filthy daughter has kidnapped my eldest son!"

"Lord Hyde, please do not speak of the young woman in such a way. You do not even know if Eric is with Lady Sheila." The Priestess was on the verge of tears.

"Besides!" Lord Aderan shouted as he shoved a finger into Hyde's chest. "It is your mongrel of a son who has kidnapped my innocent Sheila!"

Lord Andrew looked as though he were going to argue more but he instead eyed the dwarf and dragonborn warily. He handed a note to the Priestess. "Eric said he and Sheila were coming to see you to get married. If you see him, send him home please, before he makes the biggest mistake of his life. Lord Hyde left after handing the Priestess a hastily scrawled note on a bit of parchment.

@Caitimus

Before Lord Hyde could leave though, Durwith stood in his way. "Before you leave I have 1 last thing to say to you" Durwith said before revealing the pouch "You should keep a better grip on what's yours". With that said, Durwith returned the pouch and allowed Lord Hyde to leave. Durwith then turned to the priestess, the monk, and the remaining nobleman and waited for the conversation to continue.

The Church of Kaher was not a place Kismet found herself particularly wanting to visit, especially when it made herself appear lesser than those of another order. However, the people there, from what she had heard, were kind and reasonable. It was easily the best place to go in order to look for directions.
Not to mention, it towered over a great many other buildings...

Oddly, it seemed the crowd only began to thicken on her approach - onlookers watching or listening in on something. Though they kept their distance, it made the streets difficult to traverse, at least to a small extent. There were others headed from beyond the church towards the town square, but she found her way there, eventually.
A noble passed her by, apparently in quite the sour mood - definitely not paying her any attention. As she removed her gaze from the noble her eyes fell upon a familiar red dragonborn, standing before a pristess and another noble, with a couple other faces scattered about. It was always a good day when the two got to interact. The two missed out on a lot of time talking when they first met. The new opportunity Veldir had given her made her all the more happy.

"Saxan!" Called Blue excitedly, her pace quick so to catch up with her superior. Not that she really acknowledged him as such often, anyway. "This is a surprise! It would appear we have been guided together once more."
However, it was only after she had made her announcement that she realised how bad her timing was. A priestess apparently about to burst into tears, and another rather upset-looking nobleman. It made her shrink.
"U-uhh... Am I interrupting something?" She whispered, the sense of awkwardness having made her meek.

---

@Claw2k11

@Delta44

"You're just in time for the epilogue of this encounter" Durwith said to the new arrival "So you're not interrupting much. There was an argument here just now between the patriarchs of 2 feuding families over whose child kidnapped who, when in really they're probably just going to elope as is the case with star-crossed lover types these days".

@Delta44@rush99999

Saxan turned towards the priestess and lightly placing a hand on her shoulder, bearing a polite smile and a reassuring tone. "I am truly sorry for not having arrived sooner to break the quarrel, my lady, my apologies." He said, nodding to the young priestess and turning towards Lord Sebastian with a much sterner expression. "Lord Sebastian, unless you have further reason to be here, I advise you leave as well and leave the finding of your daughter to the authorities instead of possibly starting a conflict right in the middle of town and causing even more problems for your family."

He wished to add more, however, the seriousness of the situation was broken by a joyous voice calling to him. The moment he turned, his expression turned to a large smile for the briefest of moments, however, he realized that he was in front of a crowd and during work, so his expression turned to a polite smile as the cleric came near him and realizing that she was in the middle of a crowd.

"You are not interrupting anything, my dear friend, the situation has been almost solved." He said, raising his hand to pet her on the head like he used to do, before he once again realized that he was in front of people and placed the hand on her shoulder instead. "However, you truly are a sight for sore eyes, I have not seen you in such a long time!" However, as he turned, he noticed the dwarf that had helped him in situation at hand and turned towards him instead. "My friend, I have to thank you for helping me calm the situation here, if you ever need help from me, then do not hesitate to call me. Also, if it is not too much to ask, what do you wish to achieve here in this town?"

EDITED

Tamarack wormed his way through the gathering crowd to materialise at Saxan's shoulder. Commotion was like a magnet for the young half-elf and he broke into a wide grin as he watched the two purple-faced nobles bicker. His expression soured only slightly as he watched Durwith hand the pouch back to its rightful owner. What a goodie two-shoes...

He ducked under Saxan's massive arm as the dragonborn greeted his friend, and weasled his way into the center of the circle. Turning to the priestess with twinkling eyes he made a slight half-bow. His fingers twitched: incurably nosy, he was desperate to read that note. Stepping forwards, he swept one hand backwards in a grand gesture to encompass the inner circle of onlookers (the aforementioned do-gooder dwarf, Saxan, some kind of nervous cleric Saxan seemed to know, and a haughty looking bald man).

"This is is so much for you to handle on your own, sister. Let us help you out."

Although he had included everyone in his grand gesture, the only person he actually knew was the grizzled dragonborn. Friends in childhood, Tam and Saxan had been travelling together for several months, ever since Saxan had bailed him out of a jail in Upper Poggs. The words and the hand gesture had, in fact, been intended to serve only as a misdirect. With his other hand Tam made a sly grab for the note.

Lord Sebastian sighed. "Please! My wife and I are worried sick about Sheila. It's not like her to run off without a word. Even if she were in love with the Hyde boy she would have said something to us. Please! If you find her I will pay handsomely." Lord Sebastian bowed his apologies to the Priestess before leaving.*

The Priestess looked relieved. "Thank you, I was afraid they were going to brawl here on the church steps! A blessing for your kindness."*

The dwarf (who she admittedly hadn't seen, despite being only slightly taller than him) who addressed her caused the young woman to gasp in surprise. "Elope? Doesn't that mean...?"
Apparently her head caught up with what she was talking about, because Kismet's face seemed to redden as she remembered just what that meant. Saxan, however, served to anchor the cleric back to reality before she could become corrupted, simply through his kind words and gesture.

"We saw each other yesterday, Saxan." Chuckled Kismet. She'd been stationed at Pinch Pols for a few weeks now, not a particularly long amount of time, and so didn't really know her way around. Saxan was the only real person she knew, and even then they were still at the stage of getting to know one-another. That said, he was right in the fact they hadn't spoken to one-another in a couple of days, largely due to a change in patrols.
"Even so, we need to find a way to speak more. It feels like we haven't had a proper conversation in awhile!"

The noble's words caught her attention, though. With both Saxan and herself present, they could easily inform their station of the missing woman. She knew how important a noble's family was, so it seemed likely a search would be made. She only hoped her angelic guide, as well as Veldir, could guide her to finding this man's daughter.
The priestess seemed much better, which was good, however Kismet kept quiet, not wanting to overwhelm the girl. Though she accepted the blessing kindly, she hoped Veldir wouldn't be too angry. Blue had a tendency of doing that. It often resulted in a broken holy amulet...

---

@Claw2k11@rush99999

With a slight shrug, Tam gave up on trying to snatch the note. His mouth narrowed petulantly as he stared at the paper. There must be some other way to see what it said. He'd recently learned how to summon an invisible hand - could he just grab it and pull it from her hands? No, that'd look decidedly strange. He stood in thought for a few moments more as the conversation continued around him. Then inspiration struck! Aha! Just ask!

He turned the full force of his almond elven eyes on to the cleric, and injected them with as much concern as he could dredge up.

"It sounds like something pretty fishy's going on here. I happen to be something of an expert in missing persons. Maybe I could take a look at that note?"

Not all of this was strictly true but, Veldir help him, it was for a good cause. His active imagination had already spiraled off into a thousand exciting possibilities for what could have happened to the two lovebirds.

The nobleman crossed his arms, lifting his chin a bit as he observed the man depart hastily once the outsiders had succeeded in their intervention. At last stepping forward, he addressed the priestess with a slight nod, shooting the half-blooded elf a glance and a nod as well. Imposing himself into the conversation, his gauntlets came to rest on his belt and his address began quite simply, starting with the company nearest to him and working out.

"Not to interject," The bald, lean man noted to the hound of men, then next on to the woman of the church whose steps they gathered beside, "But perhaps it would be for the best for outsiders to attempt to remedy this issue." His slate eyes eased and he smiled, giving a soft bow while allowing an arm to fall across the chain and tabard on his chest, the other at his armored girdle.

"Forgive my manners as well, but this is an interest of nobility, something I needed to address on behalf of the peerage I share with them. You, my dear, may address me as Lord Beaduric."

The man returned to standing, his posture far less formal than it just had been, but he carried on in calm, almost serene demeanor. "Perhaps I could even persuade you, on account that it is my duty as a knight-errant as well, that I too need look into this matter personally... but, I could certainly use fellows."


@Phrax@Caitimus@Claw2k11@Delta44@rush99999

@Claw2k11 @Phrax @Caitimus @The Harbinger of Ferocity

Durwith nodded at Saxan's words. "I thank you for the offer" Durwith replied "Should I encounter a problem that you would be able to fix, I will contact you if I can. As for what I hope to achieve here, I actually have no goals to speak of at the moment". Being constantly pursued due to his task, Durwith had become slightly paranoid. This lead to him being a lot slower to trust than the average dwarf. Needless to say, Durwith was in no hurry to tell a perfect stranger his current plans.

Shortly after this exchange, the remaining noble left once he'd mentioned that finding her would bring a reward. The priestess then blessed all present, which Durwith acknowledged with a thankful nod. Though Durwith, like most other dwarves, worshiped his ancestors, there was never any harm in respecting the gods of other races. Especially when they were granting boons.

Then the half-elf arrived. Durwith took an immediate disliking to the rogue. He had no business trying to read the priestess' note. It was meant for her, and it should be her decision who gets to see what's written in the note.

Durwith was about to quite angrily and quite loudly express his displeasure at the half-elf when yet another person arrived on the scene. The human paladin seemed like a far more decent fellow than the half-elven rogue, especially with him actually asking for the note rather than trying to take it. Then the man asked for fellows.

Durwith groaned internally. On top of his pursuers, Durwith was also kept from his task by the multitude of quests he finds himself roped into as a result of being an adventurer. Durwith wanted nothing more than to get to the guild hall and get to work. It seemed like there would be other people willing to help. But part of him felt obligated to lend his aid in this matter. After great consideration, Durwith spoke. "Well if you think you can get any use out of me, know that you have it" Durwith said to Beaduric.

"True enough, Kismet, though the last time we spoke, it was but a brief discussion before both our jobs took us in different directions." he said, shaking his head a bit as he had to focus on the mission at hand, he would solve the situation with Kismet at a later date, they had more pressing issues at the moment. "We will talk about this after we solve this job, ok?" he said nodding towards her before turning towards everyone else only to find his friend Tamarack Vanna had already caught up with him.

He enjoyed the presence of the rogue, however, he tended to get in trouble quite often, especially since he was not officially part of the army and it often fell to him to get his friend out of trouble, mostly using his station as an officer in the army to get his name cleared and now, he had almost just attempted to steal the note that was given to the priestess.

"My lady priestess, my good friend here means well I can assure you, however, I must ask that you give me the note." He said, extending one of his hands towards the priestess to receive the note. "As a military official and peacekeeper, it is my duty to solve such issues and by Veldir, I will solve this issue."

However, as he waited for the note to be handed to him another person popped up and one he recognized and respected. "Lord Andhere, it is an honor to see you again and I know I've bothered you a lot about this, but I still cannot thank you enough for what you did for me, you saved my life and my job!" Saxan felt half inclined to bow down before Beaudric, however, they were in public and he had to maintain appearances at the moment, so he only nodded towards the noble to show his respect.

Upon the somewhat begrudging offer of the dwarf to help them in this job, Saxan nodded. "Your help is greatly appreciated in this mission of ours." He said and though he was slightly suspicious of the dwarfs intentions, he appreciated all of this sudden help.

The Priestess slowly hands the note to Tam*. "If it can be of any use to you, I have no need of it. Please find them. Should you need me, I will be praying." The Priestess left without another word.

What is apparent about the note without having to roll for investigation: The parchment is torn in several places as though pulled off a larger sheet. There are a few dark stains on the parchment some black and others red. The note itself says not to come looking for them as they have run off to get married and will see the Priestess soon.

"Good, good, pledges all around." The silvered nobleman beamed with a pleasant grin, laying a gauntlet upon the great scald arm of the towering dragonborn, continuing on in his dialogue, "As it seems that was a wise choice in my doing. To have your pledge as well is a welcome outcome of that decision, is it not?"

Withdrawing his hand, the paladin at last came to note the woman speak up amidst the diffusing but still very much lively chaos; many voices, challenges, concerns, exchanges. It was all rattling as they went to get in edgewise, but the old knight was not about to let it get away from him, oh not in the slightest. He turned to survey the crowd, some of which was dispersing others of whom were drawing in, all for varied interests or purposes. Boldly, to so form those invested and whatever rewards might come, the tabard chested man in his old, worn-in chain spoke up.

"If you haven't business to attend to, dear people, the display is over. For those of you bold enough to try your hand at remedying this issue on your own honor, perhaps you should consider stepping forward." His voice carried, just loud enough for any onlooker to overhear. Granted the peasantry by and large were not about to pledge themselves to some cause of the nobility, they had not the desire or audacity to step out of line for most, and certainly were devoid of the means to undertake a quest as dubious in nature as to put down two quarreling families.

But what rewards would come? Honor? Wealth? Adventure? Surely some measure of them all.

@Phrax@Caitimus@Claw2k11@Delta44@rush99999