The wind whipped down the cobbled street, creating devils in-between the rocks. A tall figure stood alone in the street, staring up at the courthouse in front of him. He rubbed his chin and knocked loudly on the door again. He sighed and leaned against the wall, waiting.
Surely even his own dead town could gather someone to help, how else would a person win fame and glory through adventure?

The man reached into his pocket and retrieved a long cylindrical object, faceted with holes. He put it to his lips and started to buzz. A cacophony of notes flooded from the metal instrument as the man's fingers jetted across the instrument. It was a simple tune, but a mysterious one all the same.

The man was here to answer the call. He was seeking fortune and fame. For, he was destined for that. He knew that ever since he fled his mansion. For, everyone should know who he was. He was the great Templar Jacque Raynes-Iron. And if he had to start off investigating some stupid disappearance, then he'd find those people, and make sure they spread the word of his greatness.

The lightly colored man was no stranger to hunger and no place to sleep. He'd been unable to steal anything because too many people were wary here. They wanted to find whatever had caused the disappearances, and they wouldn't take kindly to his begging. He had turned somewhat gaunt due to lack of food for days, and there were bruise-like impressions that marked the fact he hadn't slept well. The wind tore at his ragged clothing, and his green eyes danced, watchful. His guard never rested.

Callam was on his way to the courthouse. A call had been sent out for able-bodied men to come and help find the answer to disappearances. He didn't care about the glory, he cared about the life he'd gain from doing it. He didn't want to spend his life a thief, and if searching for ghosts, spirits, or a person was what he had to do, he'd do it. Cal had been taught to be a good, honorable person. However, he hadn't been able to live like that. When everybody turned him away, he'd gotten scared. The only solution had been to do what is poor father, whom he missed dearly, had told him never to do.

His footsteps were barely audible as he walked up the lane. He hardly even noticed the other man until the man started playing a song. It was an intricate song, and Cal was somewhat jealous. He'd heard music, but he couldn't play. He even wished he knew how to sing so that he could simply sing to himself. Alas, the skill was not his, so he suffered slightly. He didn't comment as he stepped up and slammed a fist onto the door to try to get someone's attention, and stood back. Callam didn't even look at the well-dressed musician. He figured that the man was there for glory and other such things the higher class people searched for. Not to find a better living because he had no other way.

Templar frowned, looking around at the man who had joined him. The music still played, but with a little less volume. Eventually, it eased to a halt and the instrument was taken from his lips.

He frowned. "Are you here for the job as well? I'm afraid there's no one inside at the moment, I've been here all morning, not a preacher or constable to be seen." He frowned again and rubbed his chin. "Maybe they'll hurry up, this wind is whipping up to quite a storm." He waved his hand at the street before finally exploding into a grin. His teeth were dark and ugly, the color of stained wood left out in the sun. "Of course, if the wind keeps up we'll have the cause of these disappearances already! Haha!" He chuckled and pushed himself off the wall.

He approached the man and extended his hand. "To a job well done, eh?" He laughed again, his grin darkening his face considerably.

"The weather is no concern of mine," Callam said, shaking hands with the fellow. "Patience, they will come eventually. They should nay be quick to forget their summons." He chewed a lip softly, his eyes casting about yet again. He was not quite sure whether or not he liked the other man, but he would be forced to be around him to try and figure out whatever it was that was happening at that moment. He saw nothing suspicious, but he didn't want to be taken by surprise, so he kept very wary.

His stomach clenched, and he had an idea. "Do you have any food to spare? I'm afraid I can't afford a meal at this time," he asked softly. He hoped that the man would be willing to share food if he had any. After all, Callam wasn't lying. He truly couldn't afford anything and was lucky to still be able to breathe. It was hard living without any food, and he was in severe need of some form of sustenance.

Templar raised his eyebrows, sneering slightly. "Are you asking me for food? Or are you asking me for money?" He chuckled and leaned back against the wall. "Because of one I have much but of the other my coffers are empty."

He shifted his eyes to the sky and his sneer vanished. "In any rate, you should always be concerned by the weather. It can for tell many things that you could not possibly imagine yourself. Many a veteran has survived a great war simply because he decided to flee from a forlorn cloud." He waved his hand for dramatic effect, apparently forgetting the other man's request.

"A wise man may watch the weather, but it is still no use if he is starving. Whichever. I can buy food if all you have is money," he answered, slightly angered by the other man's seeming lack of concern for everything other thank his knowledge. Anyway, the building's overhang would be enough of a shelter for two men, so they needn't worry. The town wasn't on a flood plain.

He sighed and cast about, still wary. Whoever, or whatever, was taking people would see them as easy prey. A hungering traveler and a minstrel of a man. Callam had no intention of becoming some form of demented prey. For a man or otherwise. He shifted from foot to foot. Unease was settling over him steadily. He tried to ignore it, but it kept coming back. Cal scowled, looking up at the night sky.