Hark
Hark twirled a finger through his unkempt beard. Another day, another coin. Hark took jobs where he could find them and he had recently been hired as a dockhand. This was mostly due to his size and strength, it didn't take long for him to get hired for physical labor jobs, and loading-and-offloading cargo was about as physical as labor got. Today he was putting what appeared to be sacks of potatoes onto a recent arrival. The port was usually bustling with activity, but today it was rather quiet due to the tournament going on just down the street. He could occassionally hear gasps and cheering from the crowd. Hark really didn't pay much attention to it, although his mind occasionally wandered to the idea of competing with a sword and shield, it's likely that he could actually win a tournament doing that. Hark shook his head at the idea, after all, the last thing he really wants is to draw attention to himself, not that he didn't stick out like a sore thumb wherever he went being the beast of a man he was. Hark did his best to appear as anything but an elite knight to everyone around him. He was unkempt, dirty, crass, and reeked of alcohol at almost all times. Even if someone had a portrait of him from his days as a knight, they wouldn't be able to convince themselves Hark was the one they were searching for, after all, how could a Silver Dragon Knight have fallen so far so fast?
The foreman coughed as he looked up at Hark, who was staring off into the distance. Hark snapped back to reality, nodded to the foreman to acknowledge that he was there to work, not daydream, and hefted a couple hundred pounds of sacks of potatoes over his shoulders. Hark could do in one trip what it took normal men three. Hark made his way onto the ship, the treated wood creaking under the weight of the enormous man and his potatoes. Hark made his way to the cargo bay and set the potatoes down. He made his way up and out before long. He sighed as the sun and sea's wind beat down on him. He glanced over to the foreman before asking, "mind if I take my shirt off?"
The foreman let out an exasperated sigh before saying "fine."
Hark pulled his shirt over his head. Although he no longer had the definition he once had, it was clear to all around just how much muscle mass this man has. Hark lifted another few sacks over his shoulder, beads of sweat dripping from his beard. Hark looked back as he heard the chuckles from one of the new greenhorns. The greenhorn was barely into his teens, and thought for sure that he could out-do the drunkard. Hark stopped and watched the young man as he bounded over to the sacks of food. He took a moment to count how many Hark was carrying and tried to throw them over his shoulder like Hark had. Hark smiled and shook his head before turning around and heading for the ship once more. Suddenly Hark heard a howl of pain, Hark spun on his heels to see the young man had hurt himself trying to out-do Hark.
Mere moments later a young man was upon him. The man had an odd appearance about him, he seemed to be dressed fairly flashily. It wasn't long before the young man brought out a heal staff and had healed the greenhorns wounds. Hark wasn't close enough to hear any of the conversation, and instead made his way below deck.
Hayne
Hayne had wandered back into Ylissian territory less than a month ago. By chance he had found his way into a port town, with a tournament no less. Which was great, as tournaments more often than not needed healers of some kind. After wandering through the town he came across a dock where supplies were being loaded on to a ship. Nearby a young man howled out in pain as he held his elbow. Hayne moved in and told him, "Stay still, I only need 93 more." He quickly pulled out a healing staff and repaired the wound. The young man had begun tearing up from the pain before Hayne had healed it.
Hayne smiled, "There! All better. May we some day meet on the field of battle, where I will destroy you in glorious combat!" Hayne proudly exclaimed before moving on.
Next he would offer his healing services to the combatants of the tournament.
Hark
Hark finished the days work before making his way to the tavern. It would likely be busy tonight due to the fireworks. After all, he didn't want to go home, after all, all it was was basically a shed with a hidden chest containing his past. The tavern was quite nice, as the town tended to be a bit wealthier due to trade than most. The tavern even had rooftop seating. Hark got himself a drink before making his way to the roof. He leaned against the back wall, after all, he was a full head taller than most and could easily see the fireworks, even from behind the crowd.
Hayne
Hayne had found himself atop a small building while waiting for the fireworks. During the events of the tournament he had gotten his count down to 87. He was getting closer, but it would probably still be weeks until he could fight again.