"Sir, there's been a fire! By the West Gate! Sir!"
The woman in a green dress was shouting at him, outside the Pony, but he didn't hear it. His head is swimming with thoughts since he got back from a disturbance report from Trestlebridge. His second-in-command, and friend, Deorla, had just helped cut down the bridge that connected a camp of Orcs to the south, and she had stranded herself on the other side. She could be dead, by now. He'd never see her again.
"Sir! Sir, there's been a fire!"
Snapping back into reality, he smelt the familiar odour of burning wood, but it was coming from inside the city. Banishing his thoughts, he looked at the woman, and hears her words finally.
"The West Gate, sir! A fire!"
Finally responding, he runs down to the gate, and what he sees is a most unbecoming sight, and far beyond his limited ability to control. A knife slashes, a woman tackles another to the ground, someone else tries to attack with another knife, all-the-while the gate crackles and burns, passers-by stunned and uncooperating. It's a mess, and he doesn't know what to do. He tries to make efforts to split the commotion up, and things finally calm down but as he tries to diffuse the situation, it escalates once more, and Furley knows he can't handle this alone. Running to fetch help, he finally returns but the crowd and those fighting have dispersed. Looking around, the gate is charred and smoking, leaving a strangely pleasant aroma.
The woman, Ashwyneth, in the green dress, is still there, and is soon joined by a strange man by the name of Allyster, who seems to know a little more than he should about the mind of a brigand. Furley agrees to help them search for the bandits who had attacked the city, claiming something about the "Judge", and a highly wanted man, "Wulf".
After a fruitless search, Furley tries to look again in the morning after reporting the events of the previous day to his commanders, and receives a tongue-lashing from his superiors. "How could you let this happen?!", "This is on you!", "you incompetent f*ck! How could you let them take the Judge?!". Furley had bitten his lip, but he'd wanted to answer; "Who the f*ck is the Judge? And who the f*ck is Wulf?! It's above my pay grade, and on your head not mine!". Naturally, he said nothing, and kept his job.
On his search, he bumped into the lady Ashwyneth again, who was dressed more practically this time. After a small, slightly heated conversation, she told him about the Wulf having taken members of her family, and that she'd do anything she could to get them back. Furley's mind went straight back to his friend Deorla, who he'd still not given up hope on. He sympathised, and let her in on his contact.
"Rent a room in the Combe and Wattle Inn. Lizbeth, the bar-maid, owes me. She's got a source, and won't say no to me".
Walking with Ash awhile, they chat and become a little more friendly, Furley able to drop his official persona just a little. Dropping her off in the inn, he notices some brigands, tanked-up on Liz's special brew, and listening as their tongues wag a little more as they drink, bragging more and more. Sooner or later, one of them's going to talk about what they need to know. Organising for Ash to rent the upstairs room, the bar-maid Liz agrees to tell Ash what she knows in the morning; a potential lead to her family and the Judge she's so interested in.
Returning to his guard duty, agreeing to meet her again in the morning, he feels satisfied that he's finally managed to do a competent job making progress with this investigation. She'd be safe with Liz in the inn. After all, it's only for a night, and he'd be patrolling Combe anyway. What could possibly go wrong...
