Looking around the town you momentarily feel a little lost but, finally, are able to start making your way towards the northern part of the city where you'd heard the sage was and where the mysterious building was. It is only a short time later when, out of the corner of your eyes, you are reasonably certain that you see someone pacing you.
As you round a corner, you come to an abrupt halt as you see a group of ten to fifteen young toughs. They are, on average, about age 12 to 16, uniformly dirty and bedraggled-looking and carrying makeshift weapons, primarily broken lengths of wood and rocks. The tallest of the group points his bit of wood at you, a nail still in one end, and says 'far enough, lads. Drop it and off you'll go.'