[hider=tags][b]Name:[/b] Seth of Valeria.
[b]Level:[/b] 1
[b]Race:[/b] Human.
[b]Class:[/b] Knight.
[b]Date/Time:[/b] Day 1 / Morning.
[b]Location:[/b] Bridgewater - Greased Oak Tavern - Seth’s rented bedroom and main lounge.
[b]Tagging:[/b] [@Fetzen][@Holy Soldier]
[b]Mentioned:[/b] [@Cyrania][@Fetzen][@Holy Soldier]
[/hider]

Seth awoke to the sound of a door closing gently. No creaking of the wood, no rusty hinges squeaking, just the slight tap of wood on wood as the door made contact with the frame and the mechanism inside the door locking it into place. He’d had a good night and felt rather well rested, but still turned over and noticed an indent in the mattress from his companion. It was still warm and smelled like her, he drew in a deep breath. In his mind a flurry of impressions came. Feminine curves, soft skin, brown hair, eyes, a dress falling to the floor… He couldn’t remember her face. He tried for a while, but apart from the eyes her face was empty  He’d been sober last night… Reasonably sober at least. It was just that, she wasn’t memorable. One of those people you meet in a tavern and talk to, her name was utterly uninteresting, her ideas small and naive, her voice alluring. But that was also it, for Jess, Kate, Ann or whatever her name was, that was life and all life would be unless something happened that forced her to re-evaluate her existence. 

He rolled into the crevice and breathed in her scent and warmth for a while longer before he opened his eyes. The room was very simple. There was a bed, obviously, a table and chair, which were both occupied with Seth’s clothes and equipment. A cupboard for storing said equipment which was empty and a small chamber pot under the bed, hopefully empty as well, Seth didn’t feel like checking just yet. Instead he yawned and threw of the blanket. Cool air came rushing toward him and reminded him about the importance of being dressed. 
“My garments once I gave in the field
to two land-marks made as men;
heroes they seemed when once they were clothed;
'tis the naked who suffer shame!”
The old verse came to him from memory and as he finished reciting it he pulled his pants up and put the small pot back underneath the bed. Someone would come around and empty it during the day. The rest of his equipment was quickly donned and for an observer it would be obvious that the same ritual had taken place many times before. His arms and hands moved as if of their own will, holding things in place and tightening straps by pure muscle memory rather than a perception-based need. At last he tightened his belt and picked up his shield. The familiar weight felt as good on his left arm as a warm meal or dry socks. As he turned toward the door that had stirred him from his slumber he immediately realised something. 
He was late!
The light shining in from the window had reached almost to the doorhandle, and the guild had set the meeting at dawn. His heart went into overdrive and his eyes widened as he hastily opened the door. He could feel a slight tug from the small muscles behind his ears as they picked up noise coming from below. Is was only a few meters, but it was best to appear keen, and he broke into a controlled run down the stair, where he stopped to observe the horrible scene that played out before him. 

The room was mostly empty, which was normal for a tavern at the early hours, but a small gathering of people had amassed around a corner of the main lounge. As Seth rounded the corner and could see the entirety of what transpired an elf woman had suddenly drawn her bow at point blank range against a man, threatening him to stay away, and then almost instantly put it away to have a chat with another fellow. The man, looking more shocked than worried also left the situation unresolved and instead began looking for his money, which reminded Seth about checking his own purse. Grabbing the small leathery bag in his right hand, he weighed it carefully. As far as he could remember it wasn’t that much lighter than yesterday. Meaning that the woman he’d gone to bed with was either more trustworthy than her kind usually was, or horrible at math. Of course, one did not exclude the other. 
As his concentration returned to the scene a large monstrous creature, demon or gargoyle jumped into the conflict with the missing money, claiming that he could easily rip the robbed man's moneypouch in half if he so desired. 

That felt like a war waiting to happen. A few more moments and the two men would be at each other’s throats and every other person in the room would be caught in the wake of their fight. Seth strolled over, a confident walk with his shoulders and hips alternating, his back straight and steps long, like there was nothing in his way.  
The monster and the man, who needed to be addressed first?, that was that thought that ran through his mind as each stride took him closer to the impending chaos. Then another verse hit him.
[i]A wise counselled man will be mild in bearing
and use his might in measure,
lest when he come his fierce foes among
he find others fiercer than he.[/i]
“Calm down, man, you are making a spectacle of yourself!” He eyed both prospective fighters from up close and suddenly the coward in the back of his mind wished he’d stayed away, but the hero in his soul pushed him in between them, as far as the huge table would allow anyway. 
“By the gods, you’re as big as a mountain, no one in their right mind would accuse you of stealing for it is clearly beneath you” He said to the monster and then instantly swiveled around to face the man and for the first time noticing the almost impossibly big sword.
“Settle yourself, please, I have yet to face a crook so hell-bent on death as to even think of robbing someone who carries around enough metal to supply a smith for a year. Call on your memory and you will surely find your money left beside the bed in which you spent the night.”
That felt pretty fitting. At least he should’ve been able to divert their hostile emotions toward himself instead of each other. A little more flattery and sweet talking and they should hopefully calm down.