Qwendar The Hunter didn't really belong in Cullwath, or Naveroth in general. He was at least a decade beyond his prime years and his life had become somewhat aimless. When he was younger, he was travelling the plains of Alvion with a rag tag group of adventurers, money was plenty and life was easy. Back then you could make living taking guild quests to fight wild boars, zombies and occasionally a Sasquatch. Enemies that any warrior with a year or two of training could defeat easily. But as time went on, the guild quests became more challenging, and boar hunts werent paying as much, not when there were wild Griffons and Dragons about. Qwendar's group decided to stay in the guild hunter life and one by one were all killed on the ever more dangerous quests. Until only Qwendar himself, with no livelyhood or any means to make a living started to travel....and somewhere along the way he ended up here, killing giant rats and skeletons for small coin and getting injured most of the time doing it. A pitiful and slow chapter to an increasingly sullen life.

By the time Pox came outside he was able to hear the thump and crunch of a beating, only slightly muffled by the enraged barking of Qwendar himself. 2 Black Beak mercs were kicking and punching a female merchant she was scrambling to her feet but being beaten back down every time. A sinewy dark elf in a long coat rubbed his hands and seemed to be ordering the two bruisers to continue the beating. Qwendar's voice was full of rage but also fear.

[i]That's enough Ragnap! Call off your dogs, Syril has done nothing wrong, she is an honest merchant! You mercernaries cant just act however you like, even in a town like this! [/i]

The Dark Elf Ragnap, spat on the floor and scowled at Qwendar, holding up his hand to signal the thugs to pause the beating.

[color=gray][i]Fuck off old man, you know Cullworth tradition, we don't let snake oil merchants get off with just a verbal warning. And round here the Count says what goes, and this bitch hasn't been paying her protection money. Now get out of my face while I'm still willing to consider you a piece of bad scenery.[/i][/color]

Qwendar gulped and turned around him, there was a small crowd watching, but no one said anything. They knew who Ragnap was and they knew he represented the count, even if some admired Qwendar's spirit they dare not show it. The aging hunter turned to find the good doctor Pox emerging from the Inn and pleaded with him.

[i]You see this Doc? We can't let these thugs push decent people around, I'm gonna take these assholes on, but I need your help, these stitches are still fresh an I'm outnumbered. Please Pox.[/i]

Qwnedar was right, he was outnumbered, he was also a past his prime rat hunter with a cheap shortbow who looked like he was still too weak to aim it. No one knew if Ragnap was an able fighter or not, but there was a shortsword hanging from his belt, the two Black Beak mercs were covered in black armor, and wielding spiked maces. They also appeared to be sober, which made them twice as dangerous as the regular Black Beak merc. Pox had to consider this before making a decision.

[b][i]-Fight the assailants with Qwendar[/i][/b]

[b][i]-Leave the area and make for the East road.[/i][/b]