Knowledge (local): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9
A large young man came in and sat to wait. While he way he carried himself was with strength, he still walked with a noticeable limp. His armor was immaculate, and his sword looked like it had barely been out of its sheath.
"We make of time what we will. Some measure it against the passing of the sun, others the moon. As with many things, time is up to our perceptions." As he smiled, the slight pointedness to his teeth and his slightly noticeable points on his ears hinted at an orcish heritage. "Perhaps some conversation to pass the time while we wait? I am called Garrick and I am curious as to what paths we have taken to arrive here?"