The cobblestone streets of the modest town of Pinch Pols are filled with visitors, many hoping to compete in the tournament in a couple of weeks others looking to capitalize on the coin to be made - or stolen. The blacksmith's forge fire never seems to go out these days, burning late into the night and starting again early in the morning. The rhythmic thud of his hammer is only barely drowned out by the gossip of the travelers and denizens of Pinch Pols. The smith doesn't mind all the coin he is earning but he wished he had more time to focus on the armor the mayor special ordered. A sign posted outside his shop asked for supplies he needed and couldn't seem to find but he'd yet to have any takers.

 Outside the marbled halls of the official church of Combedea in worship of Kaher was a young Priestess who looked uncomfortable about being put in the middle of yet another argument between the Aderan and Hyde families. She was covered head to foot in the white robes of Kaher but her violent eyes looked almost panicked. What had caused the original feud centuries ago? Who knows? But at least once a week one family is demanding satisfaction from the other and the church must get involved to stay any bloodshed. It seemed blood would be spilt this week no matter what the church said. The two patriarchs of the opposing families were ranting and raving at each other, spittle flying from their mouths like rabid dogs.

In the town square laborers are setting up for the tournament and the other festivities that accompany the yearly ritual to test who is the strongest in all of Combedea. There is a fortune to be made in Combedea if one doesn't mind the possibility of loss of limb or life.