Scanning the room, you note a handful of large vermin seated at a table. They talk amungst themselves and seem to share a pitcher, without bothering to pour into cups. Many are wearing costume jewelry, one decked out with a tail-ring. He sounds like a louder version of the squeeking rats common along the streets of the city. He has leather armor on with bits of fur sticking through the seams, a backpack in between his clawed feet, and bottles percariously attached to a belt. Filthy rat, you look to see who else is about.
A sudden "pop" ripples through the place. "...And here we are in the lovely port of Dunspar!" beams a half-elf who's just appeared in the shadow of the stairwell. He appears to be speaking to a parrot, drably colored for such a bird, that perches skeptically on his shoulder. As they emerge from the shadows to the stares and japes of the crowd you notice the lad is draped in a brilliant red cape, trimmed in gold thread, but otherwise adorned with the garb of The Shackles.
"Ahr-mand, you half and excuse of a wizard!" the parrot berates him with a thick French accent, "This is WORSE then the time you launched us into the Ghost Tower at Inverness!" the parrot seems to roll it's eyes and buries it's face under a wing. "Enri," Armand warns, "don't make me get the cage..."
The pop startles a rather large blue scaled lizard who is resting on scraps of metal at the end of the bar. Hissing slightly it waves it's tounge around to get the full story of the new arrival. Eshe blinks and looks to the barkeep, who seems unperturbed. Sensing nothing amiss, Eshe lowers his narrow face back onto the tin heap and lets out a sigh. He looks at the bird on the new arrival's shoulder with slight interest.