The Town of Anvil
The sun had just started to set, painting the clouds and the mountains surrounding the small town, Anvil, in a beautiful redish pink. The town was made up of about 28 wood homes, smoke rising from every chimney where fires burned to keep the chill of the night out. In the center of the town was a two story town hall, where the town's Count lived. Guards in light mail armor patrolled the dirt paths between homes; the symbol of a black Anvil inside a maroon circle covered their chests.

Cowl
Cowl, Prince of Assail, stood on a bridge which loomed over the lone river cutting through Anvil. His title was hidden to all that knew him. In fact, no one within a thousand leagues would even recognize him. He wore a brown jerkin made up of dragon leather - a material that only the most rich could afford but which did not stand out, and mithril mail. On his shoulders were mithril armor pads. Mirthril pads also covered his elbows and shins. A bastard sword, something between a longsword and shortsword, sat in a scabbard strung across his back. The mithril pads looked like normal steel, accept lighter and stronger. His sword was made of Assali steel, which was known to never break. His gear was probably worth the entire town, but it needed to be strong for his destiny would lead to the darkest places.

The prince sighed. He was leaning over the bridge's railing, watching the various fish in the river jump. He was in the town for rest during his journey. One which he had made alone thus far.

Cowl's eyes watched the pebble skip along the water's surface, admiring the stone's struggle to stay afloat. He felt a lot like the stone at that moment, his travels having been lonely and uneasy. He had a companion at the very start, but he died to a bandit's arrow.

His thoughts drifted away as the stranger moved alongside him. He didn't look at the person's face, but he did catch a lock of blonde hair in the corner of his eye. "To Anvil in particular? It's just another stop in my travels. It is a beautiful town, though." He took a moment to look up at the stranger. His eyebrows rose slightly. The woman was not just another native, "I'm looking for something... Or someone." The prince returned his gaze to the river. "And what brings you here? I've never seen someone of your, um, genetic makeup."

He wasn't sure if it was just because the streets were relatively quite at this time of day or if it was the effects of the setting sun, but the city of Anvil always seemed so serene during this time. Amicus pondered gazing listlessly at the river from his spot under the bridge. Then again what did he know? He hadn't been in the city but for only a couple of weeks now, finding work in treating the slum's sick. Not a very fruitful endeavor coin wise but, enriching in spirit at least. The people could only give so much for his services. He knew this and was fine with that. Still the growing hunger in his stomach had differing thoughts on the matter. Thankfully the river was in no shortage of fish. Now if only they would bite. He thought casting his makeshift fishing line into the water once more.

Any prospects of successfully catching something diminished into nothing as a stray rock was skipped across the surface. It took a moment for the action to register in the elf's head before he let out a defeated sigh. Seems like fish wasn't on the menu tonight. Oh well. He supposed he wasn't that hungry. That or either the origin of the rock had piqued his curiosity enough to forget about it at the moment. Amicus stood from his sitting position, stretching his arms before gathering up his belongings. The blonde then proceeded to climb up the bank and make his way up to the bridge. He was met with two silhouetted figures. A rather tall and muscled man leaning against the side accompanied by a smaller female. She seemed quite young and judging on her looks certainly not native to the area. Perhaps he was interrupting something? The thought of turning and leaving crossed his mind for a moment before he waved it away. He'd take his chances. Besides the two seemed relatively friendly or at the very least docile. "So, who is the talented rock skipper that owes me dinner?" He spoke as he folded his arms over his chest. There was no heat behind his tone more joking than anything. The grin that tugged at his lips didn't help much either.

Hark stumbled out of the small tavern door trying to take care as to not spill his mug full of ale. He looked around the small town to see if there was anything that perked his interests but unsurprisingly the town was just as quiet at night as it was the last time he was here. Hark took a long gulp of ale followed by a loud burp before he started walking down the the dirt road. Hark had no destination in mind but he was far from ready to turn in for the night. Hark took a deep breath in and took in the smells of the residents cooking their dinners. While the town was a very quiet place it was Home to Hark and hadn’t found a place in all his travels he would trade for Anvil.

As Hark wondered around the small town he spotted a small group at the bridge that perked his interest. He immediately noticed the blonde woman who had been denied a room at the inn and put up a little funny scene. Hark casually walked up to the group and said, “Well it only took about 26 but inally I seams this town has a little night life going on.” As he glanced around the group his eyes fell upon the seamingly leather armor of the tall muscular man that was leaning on the rail At first glance it would appear he was wearing regular armor but anyone who has been around enough royals and people of high status would know that was dragon skin armor. Now, Hark was really interested.

Cowl

Cowl peeled a piece of paint away from the bridge as he listened to the foreign woman speak, his eyes on the dark water beneath him. When Sifa finished, he dropped the piece of paint into the river. "You do not lie when you speak of enjoying the open road. You have walked far, wherever you come from." He took a moment to consider the rest of what she said, letting the quiet sounds of lapping water fill the silence. "I'm sorry your civilization expects so much from you. I'm staying in the Cracked Tankard and I have the coin for a meal and a room." He paused for a moment, "the expense doesn't matter to me. I'd much rather help a fellow traveler, especially one as traveled as you." The prince turned to face the dark-skinned woman again, "My name is Cowl. And yours?"

He caught motion behind the foreigner. The color he saw wasn't the usual colors worn by the Anvil guard. Cowl moved off the rail and looked over the foreign woman's shoulder. He saw an elf with gold eyes that'd make any dwarven miner want to go at them with a pick. He smiled at the thought for a moment before the elf, who was dressed and armed like a hunter, spoke to the foreign woman. Behind the elf, another person. Cowl raised his dark eyebrows. The night was young and full of energy.

Gall

Gall, a once handsome man scarred from travel and fighting, stared at the light given off from Anvil. He stroked his greasy black beard, then kicked his horse into motion. Behind him a handful of rough looking men and women dressed in leathers got their horses moving as well.

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Tristan rode into the town of Anvil, his horse laden with bags full of supplies. It had been a long journey, but not particularly unforgiving. There was always the usual threat of bandits, but it had been lighter than usual this time around. It's a shame, really. He was getting quite practiced with the hefty longsword he now called his own. Tristan smiled once more as he thought of how he had earned his equipment. That bastard had it coming. Tristan reached for his canteen, frowning as he realized how light it was. "Guess I ran out without realizing." His problem seemed to have a quick fix, because he quickly spotted a tavern that was still quite lively at this time of night. "It looks like my luck is picking up." Tristan dismounted his horse, leading it towards the tavern.

He entered the tavern, the amount of noise he heard increasing rapidly. A slight hush washed over the crowd as they spotted what they thought to be an honorable knight. Perhaps they would wonder what adventures had caused the damage to his armor. Tristan walked over to the man working the bar. "I need somewhere to keep my horse." He did his best to make his voice booming and powerful, but it didn't seem to work very well. The man raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you a little young to be a knight?" Tristan shook his head. "Long story. Now listen, do you have a solution to my problem or not? I assure you I can pay."

The man laughed. "Alright, little knight. I have a stable out back. I'll get my boys to take your horse there." Tristan nodded, and dropped four silver coins on the bar. "Thank you for your assistance. I'll take an ale." The man snatched the coins up as Tristan walked towards an empty booth in the back. He unsheathed his longsword, resting it on the table as a warning to any who would dare antagonize him. Tristan kept his helmet on for the time being.

The Innkeeper

The old, bald innkeeper of the Cracked Tankard watched the knight walk off in his armor. At least the young man's armor was worn. A knight in shining armor has never had their mettle tested, or so that saying went.

A customer at the bar got up and left at the same time the knight walked away. The innkeeper took the used cup left by the customer and gave it a wipe with a semi-clean rag, watching the knight lay his sword down. The innkeeper risked a glance at the group of people sitting in building's corner, where the light was lowest. He thought he could see then watching the knight, but he wasn't so sure because of the low light.

Gall

The plainsman finished his tankard of beer, his eyes tracking the confident knight who had laid a sword on a table. He grunted, raising a hand for another beer. The knight had sat in the back, where the light was low as well. Gall couldn't make out any distinguishing features.

Beth

Beth, the young serving girl of the inn and daughter of the innkeeper, walked up the the knight with a tankard of ale. She nervously brushed her long blonde hair behind her shoulder, flashing the knight a smile. "Here you go, sir." she said, setting the ale on the table. "You're not from around here are you sir?" She said to Tristan, her cheeks reddening slightly. The nineteen year old serving girl had been serving in the inn since she was twelve. While pretty, no one had ever found her pretty enough to rescue from the inn.

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As Tristan rested in his booth, a serving girl barely younger than him delivered his ale. He observed her, noting her good looks. "Here you go, sir." Tristan nodded appreciatively, but she stayed to converse. "You're not from around here are you sir?" Tristan peered up at the girl. He then sighed as he removed his helm, revealing his mostly-handsome visage, excluding the broken nose. He smiled warmly at her. "There's no need to call me sir." He looked around at the inn, taking a long pull from the ale. "No, I'm not. It took me a long time to get here. I'm thinking about staying for a bit, but I don't have anyone to show me around..." He ran a hand through his hair. "It's a shame really." Tristan looked at his reflection in his blade. It was one of the only things in his arsenal he kept good care of.

Unfortunately, he couldn't find it within himself to trust somebody with his armor. Since his theft, he was painfully aware that any small slipup could cost him his newfound livelihood. Tristan had found that his general paranoia over his armor was translating to real life. It was because of this paranoia that during his observation of the inn he noticed a group of people facing his direction. He cursed quietly to himself. They could just be curious. He tried to convince himself of it, but he found himself pulling his longsword ever so closer regardless.

Beth & Gall

Cracked Tankard

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Beth
Beth smiled, her brown eyes growing brighter when she realized the knight would talk with her. "If not sir, then what may I call you?" She inquired with a gentle smile, which grew bigger as the knight removed his helm. The knight was almost her age and he was handsome. As a knight, he probably also had a decent stash of coin. "I could take you around town if you want", she said, " and I could do it for free!"

Her smile dropped a bit when she saw the knight pull his sword closer. "Oh them... they're from the plains near here." She whispered to the knight nervously, "usually only one or two show up. The one with the long black hair is their leader."

Gall
Gall saw that he had attracted the attention of several people in the area, including the knight. The plainsman chuckled when the knight reached for his sword. Gall raised his tankard to the knight, then loosened the long knife in its scabbard. He proceeded to spit on the inn's wooden floor, then took a swig. Some of his men did the same while some stared with the empty eyes of killers - or perhaps the eyes of those who had lost everything. The distinction would be important, but hard to see in the low light.

---

Cowl

Anvil Bridge

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"Sifa," he chewed on his cheek a moment, "that's a name I have never heard before." Cowl said, attempting an awkward bow as Sifa had done earlier. The prince once again turned his attention to the newcomers, which Sifa had just started to address. He missed the sarcasm at first, thinking another person was asking for a bed or food. That was not the case, though, he realized. The elf was just light of heart and wanted to make a joke to join the conversation.

"I'd have to agree," Cowl said to the man dressed in leather armor. "I've been here for two days. I thought the streets always cleared with the setting sun, but it appears that is not the case this night." Cowl took notice of Hark's attire and appearance, "You're not an Anvil native by any chance are you?"

---

Hark leaned up against the back rail behind the group as they exchanged words taking in the night air. It was nice to see people around his age that weren’t those bastards from the plains always looking to stir up trouble. He looked over the blonde Elf for a moment. In the few days he’d been back he heard some stories of this apparent traveling healer who had been in the town for a short while helping out with those who were ill.

Hark nodded his head when he heard the Bible ask if he was from around here, “Yeah I was born and raised here. Only only the past couple of years I’ve been venturing out for work.” Hark looked over the town, “My families house is here and now that they’ve all passed I have 2 extra rooms and an attic space if you’re in need of temporary residence. It’s mostly unused as I never hang around for long.” Hark looked over to the Elf, “Especially you Elf I hear you’ve done a great service to this town in the short time it’s the least I could do.” Hark added with a small grin.

After he finished with his invitation Hark turned around and started walking back to the town. “If you need me I’ll be at the tavern refilling my cup.” He called over his shoulder as he looked into his empty mug.

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"If not sir, then what may I call you?" Tristan grinned. "My name's Tristan. You are...?" He was enjoying conversing with this girl. "I could take you around town if you want," His smile grew. "and I could do it for free!" Tristan nodded. "That sounds like a lot of fun. How does tomorrow sound?" He thought that nobody would be able to notice his paranoia surrounding the men in the booth, but the serving girl seemed to notice. Unfortunately, so did the group in question. "Oh them... they're from the plains near here." He narrowed his eyes. "Usually only one or two show up. The one with the long black hair is their leader." The man she spoke of raised his tankard to Tristan, then loosened his knife. His other men peered. with dead eyes at Tristan. Tristan leaned into the serving girl, whispering back to her. "What do you think the odds of them trying something are? Normally I wouldn't be worried, but there's certainly more of them than there are of me and...Well, I'm not quite sure that anybody would try and assist me." His grip on his blade tightened. "But if I must fight with those heathens then I will not hesitate." Being a knight certainly was tiring. Especially acting so noble. Of course, he did partially mean what he had said. Tristan would be all too happy to fight with those men, but this tavern did not seem like the place to use a longsword. The odds of him hitting an innocent bystander with it were high, and that would possibly get him thrown out of town.

---

Norton sat on a table near the edge of the Cracked Tankard, eyeing his drink with much scrutiny. In truth, he was ruminating about what he wanted to seek in this town. The good deeds he had accomplished in his previous months as a squire tossed out into the world had been disappointingly minor, though he worshiped the goddess of order and thinking of it like that was questionable. All he had to show for himself was light armor with some scrapes to it and no money. He hoped that this ale would at least have been a worthwhile purchase, seeing as the men outside of his order seemed to treat the beverage as a deity.

He took a hearty gulp. Norton was no stranger to ale, but the kind he drank when training alongside his superiors was watered down and awful. His eyes widened in frustration as the drink struggled to remain in his stomach. This wasn´t watered down and awful, it was in fact amazing! He could tell some parts of the creation process were probably less than pleasant, but he furrowed his brows, gaining a further understanding of the outside world.

Around him the tension had begun to rise with all of the warriors present, many of them tightening their weapons or spitting in displays of bravado. If disorderly conduct were to happen here I´m unsure if my lone strength would be enough but... Lumen... if this is what you have sent me here to act upon, then I am not truly alone. He tightened the grip on his weapon as well, so lost in thought that he hadn´t considered others noticing.

Brakes walks into town, and looks around, a sly grin on his gray face. I wounder what mischief I can brew up here? He walks up to a nearby tavern, and spends a few minutes checking and sharping his weapons. He then walks into the tavern, and notices a few things. One, a knight in full armor, two, the group of ruffians that the knight was staring down, and three a paladin, griping the hilt of his blade. He grimaces slightly. A paladin? Why would a holy warrior come to such a place? I thought they had a larger moral code then that. He looks around the room, not bothering to try to hide his stone gray skin, or the horns sweeping from his head. He meets the eye of one of the drinkers, and sees the man shudder from seeing his demonic physic. He waves slightly to the man, and his tail whips around. The man leans over to the drinker next to him, whispering and pointing in his direction. He walks through the bar, fully aware of the whispers, and puts one hand on his sword hilt. He hoped it wouldn't come to combat. At least, not until he'd gotten a few drinks.

Beth, Gall, and the Innkeeper

Cracked Tankard

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Beth
The serving girl looked at Gall and his men before quickly glancing back at the knight. All of her excitement from seeing the young, handsome knight had vanished, and with it, she forgot to introduce herself. With a shaky whisper, she began, "I d-don't know... Tristan. They've never caused trouble before." Between Norton, Gall, and the knight, the tension was already high enough. Until the horned man walked in. Beth froze, having never seen such a creature. Sure, everyone knew they existed, but Anvil was a clean, human town. Tieflings had actually never been in the town. Brakes had just set a record. A record that could prove deadly, should the unhuman being give the entire town the wrong idea about tieflings.

Innkeeper
The bald man hurriedly grabbed a tankard from under the counter as Brakes approached. The old man was too afraid to ask people to leave earlier, and now faced his inn being destroyed. He cursed under his breath, hoping the tiefling didn't take it wrong and pored ale into the tankard. "Here you, uh, go, um, sir." The Innkeeper said as he slid the tankard to Brakes.

Gall
Moments after the Tiefling was offered a drink, Gall slowly stood up, removed and set his weapon belt on a table, then, at a slow pace, approached Tristan. When he was about eight paces away Gall spoke, his voice deep and hoarse, "how many of you are there?" He finished the statement by pointing at Tristan's armored chest, then at Norton.

---

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Tristan relaxed slightly, if only a little. "That's a least a bit of reassurance." He smiled at Beth again. "I'm afraid I didn't get your na-" All of that tension quickly resurged as two very surprising things happened in quick succession. First, a tiefling entered. Tristan was already shocked enough by that. He'd heard tales of tieflings, but hadn't seen one up close. He barely had any time to register one event before the plainsman walked towards his booth. Tristan began to grab his blade-ready to spring up and try and take him out before he could attack-but he merely wanted to converse...Or so it seemed. "How many of you are there?" The plainsman gestured at Tristan, and then at another warrior. Tristan glared at the plainsman. "I am not with this man, though I would much rather associate myself with him than your lot." He nodded at Norton. If this man could help me, we could surely take them out. The warrior looked skilled enough, and Tristan was quite confident in his own abilities. It seemed he would be doing this town a favor by taking them off the streets. Except for the group themselves, surely nobody would miss them.
"What do you want, plainsman? I doubt you wish to converse." Tristan spread his arms out wide. "I had no quarrel with you up until the moment you threatened me. If you must be so hostile, why don't we step outside?" He grabbed his helmet and pulled it on, fastening the straps as he spoke. "I wouldn't want any of these innocent people, or this lovely lady," He said, first gesturing around to all the patrons, then moving his arm towards Beth, "To get hurt!" Tristan looked to Norton. "You seem like a lawful man. Why not join us? Just to make sure the fight is fair." He was done playing games. Perhaps once he was done with these ruffians, he could get back to drinking fine ale and conversing with that serving girl.

"A rumor, hm?" He hummed rocking back on the heels of his boots as if pondering his choices. "I suppose that'll work." He finally answered with a chuckle. "My appetite for gossip has always out weighed that of my stomach anyways." He admitted with a shrug. Perhaps, if this wasn't so true he'd have more meat on his bones and wouldn't be as prone to getting himself into troubling situations. Eh, probably not. Besides he was especially interested in what she had to say. He hadn't seen anyone like her before or at least not in Anvil. Who was she? Why was she here? And just how far away from home was she? The same could be said for the stranger behind her. He had this mysterious aura about him that just seemed to reel the elf's curiosity in more. Truth be told, he was just being nosy and didn't really feel like spending a quiet night in the inn. How could he? With all the nightlife that seemed to be emerging from Anvil at the moment.

Just as he was about open his mouth to speak, a voice behind him caught his attention. Effectively shutting him up and making him inwardly jump in the process. Behind him stood a tall muscular man with dark long hair and cutting hazel eyes. By the nine! How did he sneak up like that so silently? Amicus listened as the two other men spoke his golden gaze flicking between the two. Silently filing down what little info he picked up in his mind. Only one in this little gathering was a native. Interesting. "Aw, well I wouldn't call it that." He spoke with a grin as he rubbed the back of his neck a tad bit flustered by the compliment. He hadn't really mean't to acquire such attention, seemed word around the streets traveled. "Thanks, big guy. I'll keep that in mind." He added giving the taller a small appreciative nod of his head.

Brakes smiles, picking up the ale. "How much do I owe for this refreshment?" He chuckles at the naive minds of the suspicious people surrounding him. "Come on. I'm not as scary as all that, am I?" He looks up, his clouded eye and demonic red one boring into the barman. "Why, I haven't even done anything yet." He takes a long, deliberate draft from his ale, staring at the crowd. He doesn't blink once. He rests one hand, casually, on the hilt of his blade. His tail whips around, and he chuckles again. He speaks up, addressing the crowd. "Who here thinks they can out-drink a demon spawn? Step up, one and all. If anyone succeeds, I'll buy a round for the victor." He grins, looking at the barman.