Noting the commotion as he left the stables, having paid through the nose to get his horse a stall and some dubious-looking oats, Maxim noticed the crowd surging towards the gate. Shrugging bemusedly, he gathered his coat around himself again, endeavoring to blend into the local throng, and achieving some small degree of success. Following them along, he was stunned by the sight of a dark elf, of all people, sitting astride one of the monstrous reptiles that their kind favoured as mounts. He hadn't expected to see a dark elf so far from home, and, though a part of him was filled with curiosity, the rest of him was skeptical as to her presence, and her goals in human lands.<br/><br/>Making his way to the front of the crowd, he was equally surprised to see a young, buxom woman with an unnecessarily large sword at the dark elf's side, the two of them facing a large, blood-spattered human with a pair of gore-flecked hammers. A priest of Sigmar, he supposed . . . this day was just full of surprises.<br/><br/>Keeping silent, he watched the proceedings with interest, making note of the armaments and temperaments of the 'people' involved.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>