Having kept quiet so far, Mira decides to add her own comment to the somewhat odd conversation. "If he was murdered, I'm quite sure I'll at least have something to say about it. The professor and I exchanged letters, and were close to figuring out what went wrong with my project. Though, I doubt he'd ever guessed my contributions were anything more than hypotheses. He must have also been quite an unusual man to have acquaintances such as ourselves," she says, glancing between the ogrekin's odd form and the badger's apparent testiness as she speaks.
"And I hate to fuel any paranoia, but is anyone else intrigued by the 's' at the end of the name? Did she perhaps write it incorrectly, or is it just awkwardly similar?"
"The name is Raggimung. Some o' my kin used to call me Heavyarm. I suppose the usual thing is to jus' stick the two names together." The ogrekin's words are slow and deliberate, but are surprisingly well spoken for one of his kind. He looks to the girl with puzzlement, cocking his head slightly. A man, a talking badger, and now a little girl. What's up with these folk?
Maelchar keeps the wagon heading toward Ravengro at a steady pace to equal Raggimung's until the town comes into view when he pauses for a moment to look the small town over. Then he resumes forward movement, heading into the town. While not having much more to say on the rest of the trip into town, he will sit quietly on the wagon's bench while he drives, unless addressed by any of the others.
With the long journey to Ravengro coming to a close, a throaty sound leaves Raggimung's mouth, somehow resembling a sigh. The creature loosens one of the leather straps holding his sword in place, allowing the heavy weapon to slide down. Gravity drives its tip into the ground, taking the load of the ogrekin's shoulders. He stretches out the smaller of his two arms, rolling it around. Wielding the massive sword was easy enough, but carrying it around was a real pain.
"End of the road," Raggimung grunts, as something in his joint pops.