Urist was a skilled dwarven swordsman living among simple farmers in a dwarven hillock village. Local millitia was in a pitiful shape - their swords have been laying untouched in a damp shed for several years, men were out of practice and decadent, no one was really sure who was in charge - yet they didn't want a count's man like Urist to tell them what to do. Urist, on the other hand, was tired of sitting in place pretending the village was a paradise without problems that could be solved with violence.
"Mayor, they are hopeless! If I'm to turn the into disciplined soldiers I need to give them a reason to respect me. Isn't there something I can do?"
"Well, there was a story about a dragon, but you're not interested in gossips and legends..."
"I'm not." Actually, Urist just didn't like the idea of being roasted alive by a giant lizard, but the mayor didn't need to know.
"Then I have a different job for you, you see, about a season ago my daughter was kidnapped by a beak wolf. I know that those scumbags from Umbralhammer train beak dogs."
The drinking mound was full of people. Some traders were arguing loudly over business, a freshly baked troupe of bards from abroad was trying to convince a prejudiced local that they're not thieves, the barkeep was nagging a drunken dwarf to stand up, clean up after himself, and pay off his tab.
Suddenly the door slammed open.
"Who will help me in my search for mayor's kidnapped daughter?" Shouted Urist hoping that someone will agree to come with him, even just because he was loud and imposing. No such luck, locals started muttering insults and sarcastic remarks, merchants shook their heads and returned to drinking and arguing, the bards decided it was high time to leave.
"Hey, Tekkud, if you come with me I'll pay off your tab."
"Now yer talkin' my language! Less go!"