With the excitement in the square dying down, patrons outside the Trotting Mule began to file back into the inn, some exchanging coppers as they did so, apparently having bet on the outcome of the would-be thief. "Oi you lot!" Durwith called out to the patrons before they could head inside "Any o' you Paxton Truter?!".
"Who's asking?" a man with a glass eye asked as he sneered at Durwith.
"Durwith Bronzebeard" Durwith replied "I bring news regarding his brother".
"Pah! What's the layabout done this time?" He spat. "You'll find Paxton inside suckling ale from the keg! Har! Har!"
"Thank ye kindly" Durwith said before proceeding into the tavern.

Inside the Trotting Mule most of the patrons had a full night of drinking under their belt. One man loudly challenged others to a game of darts. A group of halflings bickered over the last drop of their gallon of ale. A farmer dozed on the floor, oblivious to his surroundings,  and a man, clad in studded armor and a bow across his back, wearing a badge identifying him as a Ranger of Haven scribbled in a notebook with mug of ale left untouched. The barkeep, a burly man bald and a long twirling mustache, tended to the bar.

Durwith walked up to the bar. "I'm lookin' fer Paxton Truter" Durwith said "Is 'ee 'ere right now?".
The barkeep gave a knowing glance. "By chance he maybe" he replied "What's it worth to ya?"
"It's worth a message" Durwith said "Somethin's 'appened to 'is brother, an' I 'ave to give 'im the news".
"Better hope for your sake it's not bad news," the barkeep said "Paxton is out back taking a piss. Kicked em out after I caught him soiling the corner over yonder!". The barkeep pointed out the door leading out back.
"Thank ye" Durwith said before walking over to the back door and going through it. Once outside, Durwith looked around to see if anyone was nearby.

In the shadows, his back to Durwith, a man stood. He wore a leather vest, broad shoulders and long hair tied in a long braid. He appeared to be tying his breeches. He turned around, staggering the door, and paying Durwith very little mind. "You Paxton?" Durwith asked as the man approached "I have a message fer Paxton an' I was told 'ee was out 'ere".
The man stopped, regarding Durwith for a moment. "I be Paxton, Dwarf" The smell of ale was thick on his breath.
"The goblins broke out o' their cage down at Slaver's Square" Durwith said gravely "There was a skirmish, an' I'm afraid yer brother lies among the dead".
Paxton swayed slightly as he heard the news, at first he made no sign of hearing the dour news he'd been told. Finally, with dark eyes, he seethed through his beard. "What... What did you say, Dwarf?".
"The goblins broke out o' their cage down at Slaver's Square" Durwith repeated "There was a skirmish, an' I'm afraid yer brother lies among the dead".

The moment Durwith finished speaking, Paxton lunged at him. Acting on instinct, Durwith backhanded Paxton to the ground, donned his shield, drew his battle axe, and entered a defensive stance."Now you listen 'ere" Durwith growled "I can understand this news might be a little 'ard to 'andle, but that don't give you the right to shoot the messenger. Especially when said messenger is armed and armored far more heavily than you are".
Paxton slumped over on the ground, slamming a clenched fist into the dirt with a roar. He looked up at Durwith with bloodshot eyes. "Buy me an ale?" he asked.
"Sure, why not" Durwith said with a shrug before putting away his weapons and leading the way back into the tavern.

Paxton followed Durwith inside, his nose leaking blood down his face. The barkeep looked at the pair, giving Durwith an approving nod as they approached the bar. "An ale fer 'im an' a mead fer me, barkeep" Durwith said as he took a seat at the bar.
The barkeep nodded, fetching to mugs and putting them down before you both. "On the house" he said before shouting to address the whole bar. "Listen up, you whoresons! LAST CALL!" The patrons booed and jeered before making their way to the bar for one last round.

Paxton took up his flagon and tossed back several big gulps. Durwith did the same. "I'm gonna turn my life around" mumbled Paxton. "This life o' slavin' and brigandin' ain't no life. Think I'll enlist in the Watch. Hear they be takin on new men".
"They usually are" Durwith replied "An' I'm fairly certain they'd be lookin' fer at least 1 new watchman after they gave me the boot today".
"That so?" Paxton takes another drink, draining the last of his mug. "Any hard feelings?".
"About being sacked or about you tryin' to jump me jus' now?" Durwith asked once he'd finished off his own drink "Either way, I 'ave none. Although that bastard of a commanding officer I beat senseless might 'ave a few".
Paxton tossed his head back with a laugh. He stood up from his bar stool and slapped Durwith on the back. "I go now to see to my brother" Paxton declared "Thank you, stranger, and do forgive me. What be your name 'fore I go?"
"Durwith Bronzebeard" Durwith replied "An' I accept yer apology. Should ya need anythin' from me, seek out me brother Lorges. He lives at the southern end of Moria Avenue in the Dwarven Ward. You'll know 'is 'ouse by its polished bronze roof and the loud music coming from within at even the most ungodly of hours. I'll be livin' with 'im fer the foreseeable future".
"Thank ye" Paxton said "And Durwith - You have a hell of backhand!". With that said, Paxton staggered out of the tavern.
Durwith watched Paxton leave before turning to the barkeep. "Thank ye fer the drinks" Durwith said "I'll be visitin' again". Having said that Durwith rose to his feet, left the tavern, and began to walk to his brothers' house.

[hr]
As Durwith walked home, navigating the quiet streets towards the Dwarven Ward, situated north of the cemetery, he heard a commotion up ahead. Turning a street corner, he saw a man in robes standing atop a crate, an amulet depicting the Great Wheel suggested he was some kind of priest. He appeared to be proselytizing and had garnered some negative attention from drunks on their way home from the tavern. "The Gods will return!" Exclaimed the priest "We walk the path of redemption!".
"The Gods are shit, and so are you!" a drunk said, gaining a rouse of laughter from his two companions.
"Dear friends" the preacher said "we must open our hearts to Gods' lo-". His sermon was cut off when a slab of mud and manure was slung at his face by the drunks, landing with a slap.
The priest wiped his face, trembling, struggling to maintain his composure. "It is... It is mortal kind that struck the first blow" he continued "But that does not mean we are past forgiveness!". Durwith had seen what was happening in front of him enough times to know where it was going. He walked closer to the preacher and the drunks, ready to leap into action if the drunks tried anything.

"You really are shit!" 1 of the drunks laughed.
"Yeah but his jaw is still flapping!" another said before leaning over, picking up a large stone, and aiming it at the preacher.
When the drunk threw the stone, Durwith leaped in front of the preacher and knocked the stone away with his shield. "That's enough!" Durwith barked "Move along the lot of you, or it'll be yer faces that me shield hits next!".
The lead ruffian glared at Durwith, but his friends tugged at his arm. "Come on, Milo" 1 of them said "This Godslover isn't worth it".
"No I suppose not" Milo sneered before stepping forward and spitting at Durwith's feet. He then turned with his fellows and staggered off down the street.

Once the drunks were out of sight, Durwith turned to the preacher. "Are ye hurt?" Durwith asked.
The preacher had pulled a cloth out of his robes and was wiping his face. "Aside from the humiliation I am fine" the preacher replied "Thank you, good sir! I don't have much in way of thanks, but here". He handed Durwith a copy of the Holy Scriptures. "You walk the path of Redemption" he told the dwarf.
"Thank ye" Durwith said as he took the book and put it in his backpack "Will ye continue to preach or do ye plan on startin' fer 'ome now?".
"I go home, my son, to draw a warm bath" the preacher replied as he stepped down from his crate.
"I shall see ye there safely then" Durwith said "The city can be dangerous fer men of the faith when the taverns start turnin' out there patrons fer the night, as you may already know".
"You really have done enough, but I will not refuse company" the preacher said "To Godsreach, then?"
"To Godsreach" Durwith replied "Lead on".
The preacher strode forward, clearly eager to get home to his bath. "I cannot blame those poor fools" the preacher said as he walked "It is easy to lose hope in this world, to turn your anger to the Gods and those who hold faith"
"Indeed" Durwith replied as looked about for any signs of imminent danger every so often "Especially when ye have access to copious amounts of ale".
"It brings about the worst in people, yet we need find solace somewhere" the preacher said "Some choose the Gods, others, the drink".

The street turned upward, making an incline up towards a gate. The doors were shut, but a small portcullis remained open. It marked the entrance to the Dwarven Ward, beyond that was Godsreach. It seemed unguarded, though someone could easily be watching from within the battlements above. "Ah, the Dwarven Ward" Durwith said as they approached the gate "Best part o' the whole city if ye ask me...Aside from anywhere within earshot o' me brother's 'ouse, which is where I'll unfortunately be stayin' fer a while after losin' the board that came with me job".
"It is certainly an integral part of the city, one of the oldest wards, as well" the preacher replied "Tell me, do you oft travel up the hill to Godsreach? Visit the temple of Moradin?".
"I only went there when work called me there" Durwith replied "The gods and I 'ave an I stay out o' yer way an' ye stay out o' mine sort o' relationship".
"Tis the way with us all, sadly" the preacher said "Until the Gods return that is. Mark my words, they are returning, lest Nerull swallow us all".
"What makes ye so sure the gods are returnin'?" Durwith asked with an eyebrow raised in curiosity.
"I have faith" he said simply.
"I see" Durwith replied before looking around again for any signs of imminent trouble. Instead of trouble though, Durwith found a gold coin. Durwith plucked the coin from the ground and held it out for the preacher to take. "Found somethin' fer the poor box" Durwith said.
"Why thank you!" the preacher said as he slipped it into his alms box.
"Don't mention it" Durwith replied.

After a short time, and an uneventful walk, the priest and Durwith came to a large temple. A domed cathedral reached high up in the sky, surrounded by a stone wall. The temple was guarded by a pair of paladins in shining steel armor, the great wheel emblazoned on their shields. The priest turned to Durwith with a smile. "Thanks again, stranger" he said "If ever you happen upon Godsreach know you have a friend here at the temple of Larethian. Ask for Godfrey" he gave a slight now before walking into the temple.
"I'll keep that in mind" Durwith said as Godfrey walked away. Once the preacher was out of sight, Durwith nodded to the paladins before walking off in the direction of his brother's house.