Divine Journey

- You should leave, kid, - Siegfried's second hand rested on the hilt of his sword. - Dress warmer, or you'll catch a cold. Your bandit face doesn't inspire confidence; when the militia with clubs arrives, they won't make distinctions.

- Believe me, you won't have time to draw it, kid,- Mathias pointed at the nix's sword,- and frankly, I don't care if I inspire confidence in you or not. I repeat... my request. You have one minute left, horned one.
Coldrein instantly assessed the situation, if it did come to more than just talking: heavy armor, an impressive piece of iron in its scabbard - meaning not very mobile or agile. So, hit him in the head with a stool, or push the gnome onto him first...