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Flicking ash from the end of his cigarette, the Hedge Knight tilted his head to the side and studied William and the white-haired swordswoman for a moment. "Oswald," he began, stepping forward to slam his foot into the priest's chest and then, unnecessarily, hold him down that way, "Have the injured Thornbred gather here. Direct the rest to begin piling the bodies of the slain peasantry here as well. We'll need to dispose of them before they rot. And..."

He paused, and shook his head. "No, that will all be Oswald, nevermind."

-The Thornbred begin to create a funeral pyre composed of slain peasants.

His hand was trembling from exhaustion as he brought the cigarette to his lips. "Yes, I could probably use one. Though if it's all the same to you, I'll wait until I can find someone with a little more training than a field medic." He smiled at William, and then glanced to the white-haired woman. It seemed suddenly as if this were the first time he had ever noticed her. The smile faded.
"Before you can create order, you first need to make room for it." He was quoting one of Sir David's teachings.

A cry, a flash of steel, and then blood splattered across Terryn's face like some grim masque. He sneered, placing a booted foot atop the chest of a fallen peasant and tearing his blade from the throat with a wet pop. The injury he had incurred prevented him from using his buckler, but he had fought on all the same, Oswald acting as his shield. Panting, the Hedge Knight rose to his full height and surveyed the streets.

The smoke stung his eyes, and he told himself that was where the tears were coming from, creating rivulets in his bloody disguise. Not the flames, not the child he had cut down or the mother that had shielded him. The smoke. Terryn coughed and slowly made his way over to the Lord, Oswald ever present at his side. Once out of the smoke, Sir Terryn took in a deep breath of rancid air and quelled his emotions.

"My Lord," he was almost cheerful, though his grin was more a grimace and his arm hung limp at his side, "It would appear the curse is broken. You are no Nikephoros, and you have won."

"William!" Terryn's voice rang out even over the roar of flames and the shouting of angry mobs. A moment later the Hedge Knight himself, face covered in soot, appeared from the smoke, baring steel. At his back were his brothers, similarly armed and prepared. "It would appear that hiring me is a curse, hm? Let us see if we cannot break it."

The day had been an...interesting one. First the smoke, and then the fires (many of which, Terryn had found while seeking William out, someone else had started), and finally the recent explosion. An earthquake, perhaps? Terryn had heard of them, though they were more common to the east. None of that mattered to the mercenary, though. He eyed one of the members of the mob, a large man with a cleaver, likely a butcher, with a wolfish grin.

-Terryn and the Thornbred meet up with the Crimson Guard. In the event of a battle, the Thornbred (with Terryn's +1 to Tactics) will attempt to use the burning buildings and streets to outflank the mob, driving them towards the charging Cavalry. Naturally, the Thornbred show no mercy.

((that's fine, it's more the effort that I care about.))
Ricky arches an eyebrow, and then takes the ID back, pocketing it. "I don't decide who the boss says we roll, Robby, you know that. But I think you know how the Doc got some of that stuff. Huh? Think about it, we'll be back tomorrow."

He takes his paperwork, and then turns to leave. Little Mac glares at you for a moment before turning to follow him out the door.

Mr. Edwards nods to you, ignoring your assistants comments. "Alright, then. Let's do that. I've got the paperwork all here, for you. Do you mind if I use your phone to call a taxi?"

Joe looks to Liz and speaks, but Mr.Edwards voice drowns him out.

You begin to prowl the neighborhood, which is mostly composed of brick buildings. Apartments, you'd guess. It's as you pass by a moving van that you notice something pinned to a door: A single rose, its leaves burnt to a black-brown.

You know what that rose means. It's a calling card. Someone in that building is going to be a corpse, and very soon.

Mr. Edwards ignores you, speaking to your boss instead. Meanwhile, Joe turns to you and smiles. He seems like a pretty harmless guy, so why are you so worried?
"Ah, well, Suzy's looking for some Sage Incense. I don't suppose you've got any of that in stock? And I suppose a book on Spirits or Ghosts or something, though I don't know why...she just picked a few up at the library last week."

You help out to the best of your ability. It's a rather simple task, and mostly involves herding away curious old folk while remaining as sympathetic as possible. You can understand why the guy asked you for help.

When all is said and done, you head out to the parking lot across the street to meet with Ms. Allen at her car. She smiles and brushes hair from her face in a futile battle against the wind. "Ah, there you are! I was just about worried you'd decided to take a train instead."

Black Sabbath