What is Law, dear listener? Is Law a reflection of our morality? Is it an arbitrary code of societal conduct? Is Law merely the established and indelible whim of the ruling classes and their preferred form of social covenant? Or is Law the only thing standing between civility and savagery? Civility and savagery, eh? Sounds like someone we know, doesn’t it? In this instalment of the Journeyman Questers we see the fire and fury of Dutch, half Orc pugilist of the Gypsies of Fortune, clapped in irons and brought before the dock so that the city of G’Miri might pass judgement on his deeds and actions. A worker lay dead, his head dashed against the cobblestones like a ripe pomegranate when introduced to the fist of the force of nature known as Dutch - alley carrouser, pub fight instigator, the gnarled and painted hot-blooded heart of the Gypsies of Fortune. Whispers move across the flagstones, past poorhouse brazier and merchant guild treasury. Dutch, who fought so valiantly to defend the city during the Bloodmoon siege, guilty of pummeling an innocent onlooker so hard that his body lay shattered and broken? Was it an accident, as some are perhaps too quick to say? Could a being so sure of his fists misplace them so tragically? Or, as some of the less tolerant murmur, could it simply be a case of Dutch’s Orcish ‘nature’ rising to the surface, a savage cream clawing its way past the milk of kindness and patience that he has fought so hard to cultivate? Or, as some smallfolk mutter and merchant tycoons nod unconcernedly, has Dutch’s status as City Saviour and close comrade of Mayor Rufus merely gone to his head and made him unconcerned for the ruin and devastation left in the wake of the maelstrom he unleashes every time he smirks and cracks his knuckles? Dutch’s allies seek to restore his freedom even as they seek to restore their own powers, and witnesses hold bated breath as all eyes turn on them. They say one should not build statues to the living, as they still have time to disgrace the stone. What does it mean when a hero falls, commits an error or act unbefitting of the legend we have mantled them with like a rich cloak of ermine? A man of redemption seeks to redeem Dutch’s reputation, while Mayor Rufus grapples with the torn loyalties between his citizen’s desire for justice and his own wish to see his friend safe. The lupine stalker awaits his brother’s verdict with trepidation, and a rather enigmatic figure will yet leave the worried Gypsies with a rather peculiar valentine. But hark! The bailiffs call for order as the gavel finds the wood, much the way a headsman’s axe finds the neck. Something is closing in around Dutch - is it the love of his friends? The aura of fate? Or the noose?