"Come on my companions we have faced worse! This thing looks like one of my potential wives back home." Lord Vincent laughs at his own joke as he attempts to inspire courage in everyone. He also touches his blade quickly to infuse it with magic before attacking.
attack:
damage:
With the giant swaying from the injuries he has sustained, Zanzu tries to take advantage, pushing his claws up into his vital organs and biting into his flesh. "Coek...die big un.".
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The paladin continues to slash at the giant. His expression clearly not one of enjoyment as some of his companions, but one of grim purpose.
(smite, prayer, courage, power attack)
(fire, smite, power attack, prayer, courage)
(smite, prayer, courage, power attack)
(fire, smite, power attack, prayer, courage)
Round Four:
Bolstered by his own prayer and Lord Vincent's inspiring words, Khun-duhn steps forward and swings his heavy flail at the hill giant.
Bleeding and bruised, the armoured Hill Giant finally fell to the dirt of the Common with a heavy crash, its rage the only thing that was keeping him standing. He was dead before he hit the dirt, Zanzu's caw of victory the last noise before a brief silence.
The aura of menace did not leave the camp, and if the newcomers had hoped to awe or intimidate the locals with their battle prowess, they would be disappointed. Death was apparently nothing unusual in this settlement and over the banging of the anvil, the only sound was the unpleasantly smelling man shouting-
A few men began to gather to his cry eagerly, but the locals seemed to be waiting to be sure your group wouldn't act aggressively to anyone. You get the impression they are expecting you to take the Giant's equipment.
Despite the general aura of indifference, a few locals here and there were watching the group curiously; but no one approaches. From the north, past the blacksmith and well house, two men, rangers by the looks of their gear, looked on at the bloody scene in the common, talking quietly to each other. One men had a war-dog on a leash, and the other an apparently tame wolf.
As the giant fell with a resounding thump, Durin felt the rush of battle leave his blood. He paid the onlookers no mind as plunked the head of his hammer down onto the ground and leaned on the upright haft.
As he recovered his strength his gaze dropped to the fallen adversary at their feet. To the victors go the spoils I guess... Durin toed the giant's remains, wrinkling up his nose at the pungent smell emanating from it and its gear.
Durin threw a glance and a wolfish grin at Zanzu. You Tengu don't have a well developed sense of smell right? Maybe you want to claim something?
Durin unlocked his hammer from his gauntlet and and reached down to try and turn the brute over, apparently looking for the thing's coin purse. Perhaps at least he will have some coin on him for those drinks we desire.
Eyeing the giant's club again, Durin has an idea. Master Khun, would that be of any interest to you? For use when you enlarge yourself? It would retain its size... Durin trailed off as his eyes flicked over to the fallen horsechopper, giving a subtle nod in its direction.
With the enemy defeated, Khun-duhn growls the incantations to his healing spells and reaches down to touch Durin's shoulder, mending the worst of the dwarf's wounds.
Eyeing the giant's club again, Durin has an idea. Master Khun, would that be of any interest to you? For use when you enlarge yourself? It would retain its size... Durin trailed off as his eyes flicked over to the fallen horsechopper, giving a subtle nod in its direction.
The still giant-sized Khun-duhn considers the dwarf's suggestion. Hmmm... It just might," he growls, picking up the giant's club and giving it an experimental swing.
A quick search of the Giant's corpse revealed nothing that would hint at his insane attack upon your group. The usage of detect magic revealed that both the spiked greatclub and a water flask were enchanted. The giant's chain shirt was functional and showed that Gurg had survived a pretty varied and unique array of wounds since he acquired it. He also bore five javelins.
"Fine weapon," Khun-duhn growls, handing the giant's greatclub to Durin. "But I like my horsechopper better. You want it?"
Durin's search fruitless, with no coins found, he stood upright once more. Well that figures...
Holding up the enchanted flask and turning it over in his hands he asks, What do you think this is? His expression changed quickly from quizzical to excitement as he began to chant hopefully, Please be ale, please be ale, please be ale! repeatedly before handing it over to Marcus for further examination.
Durin thanked Khun-duhn for his attentions before taking hold of his hammer once more. Going through the motions of locking it into his grip, as he had done countless times before, and heaving it back into its trusty place upon his shoulders.
Seeing the crowd laying in wait to get at the giant, Durin made a mental note to keep mindful of his own belongings. Surely some among the crowd would possess the light touch necessary to relieve him of his few remaining valuables.
The irony of the situation did not escape him...
As has half-orc companion tries to hand the giant cudgel, Durin raises an eyebrow. The weapon is nearly as tall as himself, and nearly half as round. Nay. I too prefer my own weapon. I am unsure who would be swinging which with that thing in my hands. Durin smiles broadly.
Shrugging his shoulders he adds, I guess I can carry it for the time being. Until we find someone who wishes to trade for it.
Marcus joins the others, fairly sober as he collects the jug. It wasn't inconceivable that Durin could have fallen to the giant's blows. Death is all around us here. Don't forget that for a moment.
I'll need to examine it and the club overnight Durin although I truly shudder to think of where you'd be with a never ending source of ale. Given where we are I'd say it makes water .... which would be useful.
Particularly if we ever lose our divine caster.. stop that!
Well we will get no heroes welcome here. And in any event they all knew him. Gurg. Hill giants aren't known for their pleasant dispositions but they aren't known for throwing their lives away against a heavily armed group either. Something made him act that way, caused his injuries and I think we're better off finding out what it was.
Lets see about that drink and what information we can find.
Your going to make me sing aren't you? The things I do...
The outsider doesn't seem too upset.
Lord Vincent makes a point of thrusting his blade through the giant's neck to make certain it is dead before rubbing the blood off on whatever cloth this giant might have had before sheathing his sword.
"I hope we don't run into anymore like this." as he sas this he takes a look at the many different wounds and then back to the group. "Any of you know what might have caused some of these wounds it arrived here with? I'd like to look at the flask and see if my home schooling in magic can help."
Spellcraft:
After looking at the flask he looks to the man who said he'd give iron to anyone who brings him the body of the hillgiant.
"I would help you, but I fear if I were to try and carry this thing I would not be able to get rid of the smell for days." he looks to the little outsider and smiles. "Don't worry little one. I think you have a truely stunning voice."
Marcus hands the flask over to Vincent without fuss.
What can I say? You're a man of intelligence and discernment, the lyrakien quips.
At Lord Vincent's first remark, Durin quips, Prepare to be disappointed. In a place like this... I am afraid this might be the best you can hope for. At least he attacked up front and in the open. Best be on your toes here, not everyone will engage in "honourable" combat...
Durin looks a little crestfallen as Marcus surmises upon the nature of the flask. Water? Ach! What is the point of that?
At the mention of a drink and a song, Durin's head picks back up.
Do you know any bawdy songs little K?
As he follows Marcus' lead, heading for the tavern, Durin remarks, And what do you make of this "iron bits" business? Do they not trade in precious metals here? Durin becomes concerned again about his ability to acquire alcoholic refreshment...
What can I say? You're a man of intelligence and discernment, the lyrakien quips.
"As are you, fair lady." he gives a short bow with a smile. "For now, we can sit, drink and be merry. I doupt they have any fine wine however."
At Lord Vincent's first remark, Durin quips, Prepare to be disappointed. In a place like this... I am afraid this might be the best you can hope for. At least he attacked up front and in the open. Best be on your toes here, not everyone will engage in "honourable" combat...
Durin looks a little crestfallen as Marcus surmises upon the nature of the flask. Water? Ach! What is the point of that?
At the mention of a drink and a song, Durin's head picks back up.
Do you know any bawdy songs little K?
As he follows Marcus' lead, heading for the tavern, Durin remarks, And what do you make of this "iron bits" business? Do they not trade in precious metals here? Durin becomes concerned again about his ability to acquire alcoholic refreshment...
"Don't fret. If some fool attempts such a thing I can act very unhonorable myself, but I hope not to." at the mention of the iron he gives a smile. "Perhaps, Durin this means our coin is worth more than back in Bard's Gate? You could order twice the ale if that is the case."
Do you know any bawdy songs little K?As he follows Marcus' lead, heading for the tavern, Durin remarks, And what do you make of this "iron bits" business? Do they not trade in precious metals here? Durin becomes concerned again about his ability to acquire alcoholic refreshment...
After a hundred years on this plane I know them all although I'm not sure I want to give the clientelle any ideas.
Tell you what I have this great one about a dwarf and his pet pig that I'm sure you've never heard.
Khun-duhn's eyes narrow as he studies the smelly man.
The giant-sized wolfish half-orc glances toward Arachiel and Durin and asks, "What you think? Got time left on my spell. Help get the body out of the road?"
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Khun-duhn's eyes narrow as he studies the smelly man.
The giant-sized wolfish half-orc glances toward Arachiel and Durin and asks, "What you think? Got time left on my spell. Help get the body out of the road?"
"No sense leaving the body in the middle of the road I suppose." the paladin says, helping Khun-dun with the body.
Durin looks agog at Lord Vincent. Fret? Me?! he replies before bursting into a deep hearty laugh. Surely you jest my good man? It was not I who, but a moment ago, expressed a desire that "we don't run into any more like this"! I was merely pointing out that more like him was the best we could likely expect from this place.
Durin then touched the side of his nose before cautioning, And I would be careful what you wish for with so many ears about...
As for the bits and coins? If only that were true... but best I not get my hopes up I think, Durin adds with a wink.
Responding to Kiri, Durin nods in agreement, True... probably a good idea. As for this "dwarf and pig" ballad of yours... I hope it doesn't give the "clientelle" any ideas either! Durin let out another healthy laugh.
His mirth is cut short, however, when Khun-duhn makes his suggestion. He looked as the two of them attempted to begin dragging the body. He then looked at the tavern. And then back at his companions before sighing heavily. With a shrug of his shoulders at Marcus, Durin moved to assist his friends with the body.
Grabbing hold of one of the giant's legs he lets out a grunt as he gives it a tug. He has got to be 80 stone at least! Having really hoped to avoid smelling like an unwashed hill giant, Durin offered in a sarcastic tone, If this be our new policy, to clean up our own messes, I am with Vincent then and do truly hope this is the last of his kind we have to face here...
Arachiel, get his other leg... Khun get his arms... lets be quick about this! I am really getting thirsty!
Marcus watches with some amusement as the three haul away the enemy they just chopped and smashed into a bloody mess.
With the tavern plan temporarily delayed, Marcus heads over toward the blacksmith, Kiri in tow.
Just about the best house in town and a money changer to boot. This should be interesting.
Zanzu intent on searching the body, regardless of the stench, finishes struggling to get round the giant man.
With no great treasures to be found, he sidles into the shade of the building and watches the ranger men in the distance, sizing them up. His eyes and ears flit between his new friends and rangers, but he is more interested in the rangers. He relaxes into the surroundings, at home with the squalor and deprivation, if not the violence.
Anyone still curiously watching the new arrivals eventually dispersed and went back to their business as the newcomers began to busy themselves and split up.
Zanzu watched the two rangers for a time, before they headed back towards the north end of the camp. The men were lean and muscular, clearly accustomed to life in such a dangerous place. The Tengu had the sense that they might be guides; men to accompany those foolish enough to launch expeditions into, or through, the Desolation.
________________________________________________________________________
With heaves and grunts, the other two assisted Khun-Duhn in carrying the Giant. With the transmutation still on him, the three warriors were more than capable of carrying him. The trio following the foul-smelling humanoid in the suit did not have to carry their burden far. Out away from the rest of the Camp sat a long, low structure with a rounded roof composed of poorly cured hides lashed to sticks. A horrible death smell permeates the entire area, obviously emanating from the structure. It faced out onto a large collection of hide tents, placed loosely around a makeshift parade ground.
As the humanoid turned to regard them, they finally got a good look at him. While obviously not human, neither Khun-Duhn or Arachiel were exactly sure what the tight-skinned, slightly rotten looking humanoid was. Khun-Duhn was reasonably sure the man was a particularly down-on-his-luck Dhampir. He had pushed the cart with the other corpse himself while the trio carried the Giant.
My thanks, strangers. My, he was a big one wasn't he. My names Griswald, Griswald the Undertaker. The Usurer, that's the blacksmith, pays me to keep the Common clear of the dead. I give them a burial out here in exchange for fair living. Tis a better life than out there in the Desolation don'cha know.
The humanoid licked his lips as he spoke, watching each of you in turn.
So, you'll be wanting your bits then. These are currency around here... have a drink on me, for your help. Gunna get my shovel and git to work now...
He handed Durin three small pieces of pig iron and made to turn and go inside.
___________________________________________________________________________
Somewhat at a loss of what to do, Lord Vincent accompanied Marcus to see the blacksmith. The man saw them coming and paused his hammering, setting down his hammer and folding his arms slowly. The man was tall, lean and had a long hooked nose. A shock of pale hair covered his head and his watery blue eyes seemed to reveal almost nothing about the man or his emotions.
He seemed content to simply watch the approaching pair quietly, even after they arrived to his workshop. He would obviously not be introducing himself first.
.
Some care is warranted here I think, Marcus says quietly to Vincent as they approach.
A patient man by nature, alone Marcus may have been content simply to study the man in return. He was not so sure that Vincent would be so sanguine however.
Good day, Marcus says politely enough although he doesn't offer a hand for the smith to clasp. No point trying to match strength with a man that pounds on an anvil all day.
This is Lord Vincent Darastrix-iejir. I am Marcus Claudius and this is Kirilarien.
We are, if there was any doubt, what we seem to be. Might as well hide our mission in our purpose. That was obvious from the moment we entered town.
Our welcome was certainly effusive if not so friendly. I can see why you don't get so many visitors.
Marcus watches to see if the man will crack a smile.
The lean man's expression did not change in the slightest, nor did he respond to the jest. He continued to look at you evenly, for just a little longer than comfortable, before finally speaking. His voice fitted his mannerisms; it was a voice of quiet self-assuredness and authority, a tone that was clearly unused to having to compete for attention- somewhat paradoxical considering the low volume of his speech. It was also a voice entirely devoid of accent, unlike the thick voices of many of the locals you have overheard.
Who you seem to be, remains to be seen. You may call me the Usurer. I oversee the exchange of money, as well as serving as a blacksmith. The Camp has its own currency.
The man seemed to be looking at Lord Vincent's visible arms and armour. Another silence followed before he nodded, raising his eyes back to meet Marcus'.
Your business here is your own. I don't need specifics. I do ask- how long do you believe you will be in The Camp? Are you passing through, or seeking to explore the Desolation...? he asked.
Not the Money Lender or Banker. The Usurer. So he has the authority .. or power .. in a place like this the former must come with the later... to name himself truly.
Marcus responds to the question, not quite answering it. We will be here for a time. Is there a place that offers accomodation?
As to your currency, is this where the usury comes in? Marcus smiles slightly although he no longer considers it likely this man will chuckle.
Durin accepted the iron bits and examined them. Scratching his head he wondered aloud, I wonder what this will buy around here?
Having done what they set out to do Durin makes to return to the others and the tavern immediately.
The iron bits are very cheap metal tokens, each essentially a small, thin strip of metal in a stick-like shape (less than two centimetres long). They are uniformly the same size with a hole cut into one of the long ends; most likely to keep them on a piece of string or other storage.
Just saw I didn't tell you the identified item. Decanter of Endless Water.
Not the Money Lender or Banker. The Usurer. So he has the authority .. or power .. in a place like this the former must come with the later... to name himself truly.
Marcus responds to the question, not quite answering it. We will be here for a time. Is there a place that offers accomodation?
As to your currency, is this where the usury comes in? Marcus smiles slightly although he no longer considers it likely this man will chuckle.
Vincent, deciding this would be a oppitunity to and gleam some info with his silver tongue.
"I'd like to learn more about that giant. Is he a member of this community? What would cause him to enter town and act rabid? he states and takes a good look around the forge. "You have some great work here, Usurer. You been fashioning metal for a long time."
Diplomacy:
My thanks, strangers. My, he was a big one wasn't he. My names Griswald, Griswald the Undertaker. The Usurer, that's the blacksmith, pays me to keep the Common clear of the dead. I give them a burial out here in exchange for fair living. Tis a better life than out there in the Desolation don'cha know.
The humanoid licked his lips as he spoke, watching each of you in turn.
So, you'll be wanting your bits then. These are currency around here... have a drink on me, for your help. Gunna get my shovel and git to work now...
He handed Durin three small pieces of pig iron and made to turn and go inside.
"Need help burying the giant?" Khun-duhn offers as Griswald turns to go inside. "Good to make sure the dead stay where you plant them."
Aye! Durin responds enthusiastically before looking at Khun-duhn and asking, You good on your own?
Durin nods and adds, Be careful! before turning and joining Arachiel heading towards the tavern.
Zanzu eventually moves his tired body and seeing Durin make his way towards what might be a place of restful relaxation, if not a few pockets, rises up. His clothes show patches of the dusty grey earth where he reclined on the ground, he doesn't bother to dust down his clothes. He does though wipe his beak, it is impolite to meet new people with gore still dripping from his face. Even Zanzu recognizes this, besides it can put marks on their guard, never a good thing.
"Durin, where are you off to in such a hurry?" he asks as he catches him up. "Ale, or whatever is drunk in these parts. Yes, tis time, there must be some tales to tell in this place. I mean, that hanging cheater, it's always good to know what we're dealing with?" his eyes twinkle, understanding who is the law here would be advantageous.
Aye
The Usurer did not even smile although he made two audible pauses as he responded.
A... pair... of Gnomes run a boarding house- just past the Chapel on the right. You can change gold here; five pieces to one iron bit. You can also exchange iron bits back into gold; two gold pieces for one iron bit. I also offer short term loans- for collateral equalling 50% of the loan amount and 25% interest compounded daily.
The Usurer considered Vincent's questions and then nodded slightly in answer to the first. He did not respond to the compliment, either verbally or with body language.
The Hill Giant's name was Gurg. Until today, he ran the top mercenary company in the camp; The Pounders. Not very bright but he didn't cause trouble. He kept his eight ogre's in line. Clantock's Fourteen hated them. They were the second-best mercenaries once Gurg arrived and he was driving them out of business. Maybe he know's something about what happened. Or perhaps searching their camp-site might find you some clues. Its behind this building. Simply though... the Desolation probably drove him insane.
"Need help burying the giant?" Khun-duhn offers as Griswald turns to go inside. "Good to make sure the dead stay where you plant them."
Heh, it is... But i'll settle it later. Got a few things needs doing first!
With Vincent and Marcus still talking to the slow-speaking Usurer, Khun-Duhn joined the others as they entered the tavern; once again noting the pointy-fanged fellow on the placard about to drink what looks suspiciously like blood. The latter simply would not fit inside and had to wait out the duration on his spell.
Inside, the tavern consisted of a large, L-shaped common room with a small kitchen adjoining it. What looked like a hallway leading to living quarters was visible on the northern wing. A menu on the wall showed that the tavern sold assorted drinks as well as meals of roast pigeon, horse-meat, turtle soup, coyote and a selection of breads. Many locals were gathered here despite the early time of day, several smoking foul pipeweeds. A constant haze filled the room as a result.
The proprietor seemed to be an especially hideous Orc. Clearly never a looker to begin with: his head was hairless on the left side with a missing eye and ear to match; with massive scarring there too. His right arm ended in a stump above the elbow and his left hand had only a thumb and two fingers. His left leg ended in a ragged stump just below the knee, long healed but with exposed bone at the end.
Six wenches busied themselves cooking, waiting tables and cleaning while the Orc seemed to manage the drinks being served. A little over a dozen patrons were inside the crowded tavern: an Elf dressed as a stable-master drinking alone, a drunk human already asleep, a Half-Elf in brown robes sipping water in the corner, a table of four more of the Ranger types Zanzu was watching outside, another table of four mercenaries who seemed to be celebrating something and finally, a scraggly bearded Gnome in black leather armour ordering a drink from the Orc. No one paid much attention to the four of you walking in, although another patron scowled as he struggled to leave the now extremely dense tavern room.
Durin eagerly approaches the bar, keen to find out what the iron bits are worth here...
The Usurer did not even smile although he made two audible pauses as he responded.
A... pair... of Gnomes run a boarding house- just past the Chapel on the right. You can change gold here; five pieces to one iron bit. You can also exchange iron bits back into gold; two gold pieces for one iron bit. I also offer short term loans- for collateral equalling 50% of the loan amount and 25% interest compounded daily.
The Usurer considered Vincent's questions and then nodded slightly in answer to the first. He did not respond to the compliment, either verbally or with body language.
The Hill Giant's name was Gurg. Until today, he ran the top mercenary company in the camp; The Pounders. Not very bright but he didn't cause trouble. He kept his eight ogre's in line. Clantock's Fourteen hated them. They were the second-best mercenaries once Gurg arrived and he was driving them out of business. Maybe he know's something about what happened. Or perhaps searching their camp-site might find you some clues. Its behind this building. Simply though... the Desolation probably drove him insane.
Boarding house sounds like a splendid place." he smiles and nods as he listens to him talk about the Hill Giant running a mercenary group. "I see, what about his members have you seen them? Also the other group, Clantock's Fourteen I believe? It would be good to ask a few questions as only a true fool would attack a high born such as myself. Wish to join me Marcus or shall we get the others? Also what is this Desolation that you mentioned?"
Zanzu gets out a silver piece, "Durin, while you're at the bar, can you ask what this will buy in the way of food. That little exercise has given me quite an appetite." He looks for a spare place to sit and walks over to the half-elf.
"Do you mind if my fellow travellers and I sit here? we're weary after our travels. To sit quietly and eat would do me the world of good." he asks as he sits at the table, waiting for more of the band to follow.
Durin accepts the silver coin and replies, One order of worms and grubs coming up! in a jesting tone and a smile. You didn't nick a little bit from Gurg while you had the chance?
The Usurer did not even smile although he made two audible pauses as he responded.
A... pair... of Gnomes run a boarding house- just past the Chapel on the right. You can change gold here; five pieces to one iron bit. You can also exchange iron bits back into gold; two gold pieces for one iron bit. I also offer short term loans- for collateral equalling 50% of the loan amount and 25% interest compounded daily.
The Usurer considered Vincent's questions and then nodded slightly in answer to the first. He did not respond to the compliment, either verbally or with body language.
The Hill Giant's name was Gurg. Until today, he ran the top mercenary company in the camp; The Pounders. Not very bright but he didn't cause trouble. He kept his eight ogre's in line. Clantock's Fourteen hated them. They were the second-best mercenaries once Gurg arrived and he was driving them out of business. Maybe he know's something about what happened. Or perhaps searching their camp-site might find you some clues. Its behind this building. Simply though... the Desolation probably drove him insane.
Marcus just nods at the man's rates and reaches for his purse.
5 to 1 and 2 back. When to the weight the iron would be 1/20th or more the other way. Thats the stupid outsider rate and yet the locals pay too in loans if not exchange. I wonder how he collects on it.
I'll take 100 worth in gold then.
He looks sidewise at Vincent. This Usurer seems to like giving out information as little as getting teeth pulled and yet he's awfully chatty about these mercenaries.
I think our friends will be at the tavern at this point Vincent. Let us join them there.
"sounds like a splendid plan. Let us tell them what we've learned." he smiles as he heads off towards the tavern the rest of the group are in.
"I see, what about his members have you seen them? Also the other group, Clantock's Fourteen I believe?"
All of the Pounders left some time ago for a job. Gurg was the first to return. Clantock and his men are here in the camp.
The Usurer picked up his hammer and began to continue his work.
At the bar, the Orc smiled cheerfully at Durin; the smile revealing that his tongue was also missing. Despite the multitude of injuries he possessed, the Orc seemed rather cheerful and as Durin waved his silver, he began to make hand signals. Very quickly, one of the local serving girls was translating, her face contorted in concntration.
He says that... your silver is no good here; that you have to use iron bits like everyone else. He says the Usurer can have them changed for you.
The Half-Elf looked up at the Tengu speaking to him with a slight expression of surprise.
Be welcome he replied, encompassing the empty chairs around him with a wave of his arm. The man was in excellent physical shape and wore simple clothing with a belt pouch on his hip and a long, oak quarterstaff stood leaning against his chair.
My name is Simon. What brings you and your company to The Desolation, Tengu? he asked quietly, slowly drinking his water.
As Marcus and Vincent head over to the tavern, Marcus speaks quietly to the other.
He has a purpose in telling us what he did. No question.
I do think we should talk to this Clantock but maybe some more investigation first is in order. I don't trust that man further than I could throw his anvil.
I didn't want him knowing our business but if the Pounders camp is just here, lets take a look? They could have left a journal or a map or something.
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"Do you mind if my fellow travellers and I sit here? we're weary after our travels. To sit quietly and eat would do me the world of good." he asks as he sits at the table, waiting for more of the band to follow.
Arachiel follows Zanzu over to the table where the half-elf sits, nodding to the half-elf in way of greeting. Half listening to the conversation the Tengu tries to strike up, Arachiel scans the small bar for overt signs of evil.
Durin shows the barkeep the iron bits at the same time...
The tengu clucks a few times, "Well Simon, they called me Kakrak, as for what we're here for, I'm not altogether sure I'm accompanying my friends, you know just to help out. How about you?" he clucks back. His eyes wander up and down the man, almost as if he was trying to see the inside of his cloak and to the exact patterns of the grains of the wood, in his quarterstaff. "I heard there's riches to be had out here, treasures and stuff, but I guess first I'll have to find some honest work, to earn a few pieces of gold. But I don't want to find myself transgressing the law like that old 'cheat' hanging outside. What happened to him? Do y'a know? they story like." he continues to ask, and even to know the lawmakers and enforcers here?