The priest groans as the streets fill with armed ruffians, resting his chin on his staff. "I'm not getting that drink, am I?" He looked about, trying to count how many swords were going to be pointing his direction in a moment's time. Five? Ten? Fifteen? More than he'd like. Unfortunately, it didn't look like there was much of a chance of just walking away from this one. To compensate, he started shifting to put the officer between him and as many enemies as possible. Just as a precaution.
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