The Morning of the 10th - Sunsday - The Streets of Alistair's Stand

There was a slight chill in the morning air. Dew had been settled on the tufts of grass growing up through the cracks in the street when Brom had looked out of his front door. He pulled his cloak tighter about himself, and stepped out into the street.

The service at the cathedral was longer than usual. A special prayer was offered in thanksgiving for the "Heroes of the Deepgate". He had stifled a scowl when he had heard it.

Damned fools we are, poking about in things that are as likely as not to kill us all.

After all, this wasn't the first time Alistair's Stand had had "heroes". The Pathfinders had claimed to be the solution to the city's problems. There had been those fool knights, sworn to fool oaths. The Spires had meddled in the north too. Now they were gone, all gone, save for one doddering old halfling keeping his last few grey hairs warm by a dying fire, and a tippler priest, who says his prayers over a bottle of mulled wine.

Nor had these "new" heroes escaped unscathed. He'd heard talk of the strange sorcerer, and the Scatha. Both dead.

Just like the rest.

He scowled again as he left the temple, heading to the market. He needed to get something for supper. Perhaps a nice leg of lamb...

--

"Have you heard of the lizard? He killed thirty of the monsters, just by tearing them apart with his bare hands!"

"Ha, if you call those bloody weapons 'hands'!"

There was general laughter in the crowd.

Brom looked up annoyed, and hurriedly picked a leg of mutton swinging from a hook.

Can't I get away from talk of those meddlers anywhere?

"I heard that the two dwarves blew up the Deepgate to keep the creatures back!"

"No, no, they just burned down a bunch of mushrooms."

"Hahaha, do you really think the Thane would have met with them if they had just torched a bunch of fungus?"

Another burst of general laughter.

"No, no. My friend Gorran saw them come out of the tunnel - they were scorched and covered in ash. They blew something up down there."

Brom handed over his copper savagely to the butcher, and hurried off home.

Behind him the crowd continued to speak of the Heroes of the Deepgate, the story never quite the same, never quite true, and hope began to slowly creep back into the city of Alistair's Stand.