The four slumped to the ground outside, bracing their wounded bodies against the stone walls as the put their heads in their hands.
"Well," Opened Hwinion. "It seems we find ourselves in a rather unique bind."
"Doesn't that put it perfectly?" Scoffed Belmin, his characteristically-reddened face having quite recently lost its colour.
"I can't quite decide whether this puts a halt in our plans or sends it shooting forward like the Deeprun tram!" Said Fizzbiscuit, mulling over the quandary.
"What happened last night put a big bloody halt in our plans whether we like it or not." Concluded Codin. "And this new development just complicated things more so than I'd like it to."
"Aye." Nodded the dwarf, stoutly. "Poor buggers are in a wee bit of a mess."
"Well, we have to help them. There's no choice!" Argued the gnome, articulating his point with the jab of a finger.
"Now, now, let's nae get ahead of ourselves-" Belmin cautioned.
"You did hear those odds, did you not?" Questioned Hwinion, interrupting the mountaineer to challenge his old partner. "Sixty to seventy armed bandits, who we know fine well are not mere drunkards."
"Aye, as last night's venture bloody-well shows!"
"Well, what would you have us do? Just leave them to suffer unjustly?"
"And spill our own blood? For what?"
"Aye, for what? We dinnae owe these people anythin'."
"How can you say that?! Where's your sense of honour, Master Dwarf?"
"Back somewhere where we aren't getting shot at by bandits for strangers we don't know, that's where!"

Fizzbiscuit shook his head at Belmin. Belmin gave him an arduous look in return. Codin kept quiet, with eyes closed in contemplation. They had been hit with a major set-back, as their plan of a blitz attack to uncover the truth and put a stop to the threat on theirs lives lay in tatters, and they now found themselves surrounded by strangers and in risk of becoming embroiled in a conflict that was by no rights any of their business. The townsfolk had no realistic chance of coming out on top, as because he had been told numerous times, they were indeed not soldiers. The smart thing to do would be to thank them for their hospitality and wish them luck, before vanishing back to Stormwind as quick as they could. But was it the right thing to do?
That was the question that ate at Codin's mind. Running now, fleeing and turning their backs on those who needed their help in a dire moment such as this ran contrary to everything the man stood for. Seeing the faces of the crowd of youths outside the town hall, strong with hope and promise. Being reminded of the battle of Howlmont, where him and his brothers had stood against the tide of steel and held. Glancing around himself and seeing the town of Hillsbrad, studying the lush fields of crops and modest and homely farmhouses and the look of despair and absence of joy on the people's faces. It tormented him. Though, he also looked to his friends. To Hwinion and Fizzbiscuit and Belmin. They were in danger. They all were. He knew staying would risk their lives, perhaps unnecessarily? His conscious fought a bloody battle with itself.

"We don't even know these people, Fizzbiscuit. How could we possibly fight to defend them?"
"Did you see how Mr Odelic's wife lay down that feast for us?"
"Aye?"
"And do you remember that young man inside saying how they struggle to feed their families and children on a quarter harvest yield?"
"I did..."
"Well if they put up with that kind of sacrifice, daily, and yet show that kind of generosity to four strangers who traipse into their homes, that should tell you all you need to know about these people..."
Upon hearing that, Codin's mind was now made up.
The arguing trio fell silent, with the elf and dwarf reluctantly lowering their eyes. Fizzbiscuit took a few steps back, catching his breath, before again slumping down to join his friends. It was at that moment that Codin stood up, staring off into the distance. The other members of the motley crew looked up to inspect the bearded soldier, as if expecting a suggestion from him, too. After the cogs in his head had finished their cycle, they indeed got one.

"We're not leaving these people suffer alone." He stated. The elf, dwarf and gnome nodded their approvals. "We'll train them to fight, and we'll show those bastards who they can and can't push around."
"Train them?" Said Belmin. "How? You heard them yerself. They aren't warriors."
"Neither were we, once. But we all trained, in one way or another, and now here we are." Explained Codin, turning to face the lads. Hwinion looked unconvinced, standing up to naturally tower over the man.
"That is true." He admitted. "But will a handful of farmers and craftsmen with pikes and hunting bows be able to hold off against a band of professional killers?"
"I don't see why not." Codin shrugged. "And plus, they won't be alone."
"I don't think we count."
"No, no." The warrior grinned, blackly. "That's not what I mean."
"Well what do you mean?" Inquired Fizzbiscuit, he too rising from the ground.
"I mean that we all have allies, one way or another. Surely not everyone is away fighting in Northrend, so surely someone must be able to help."
"Like who?"
Codin thought for a moment, but then batted away the comment. "We'll come to that bridge when we cross it." The elf and gnome nodded.
"So," Asked the warrior, a gleam in his eye. "Are we staying?"
"Yes we are!" Exclaimed Fizzbiscuit.
"I suppose so." Agreed Hwinion.
The trio then looked down to Belmin, still sat against the wall and wrapped snugly in his new bearskin. His eyes darted back and forth for a good while, thinking and weighing up his options with the utmost thoroughness, deciding and determining his best choice, before eventually saying 'balls to it!' and hauling himself to his feet.
"Why not." He sighed. "Last night was'nae much of a fight, so I'm still lackin' in that regard. I was promised a good scrap, and a good scrap it seems I'll get."
A wide grin enveloped Codin's face, his eyes suddenly fixating on the door into the town hall. Followed closely by his companions, the wounded warrior hobbled back inside with the aid of his crutch and made straight for the magistrate. He looked Rutherford Burnside dead in the eyes and the room fell deathly silent.
"Myself and my associates have come to the conclusion that, after much deliberation, we will help you."

Smiles filled the main chamber from then on. Smiles that had not seen the light of day for a long, long time.