|Orlund the Fair
Nidintu laughs uproariously. "Normal? My friend, nothing about Roots-Sink-Deep is normal! In fact, if any of us were normal, would we wander through the wild lands like this? Normal people stay at home and learn trades; only the brave, the desperate, or the stupid live as we do!" He considers for a moment, rubbing his upper lip as he thinks. "Now that I think of it, though, I don't recall ever meeting another plant-child like you, Roots. Perhaps your kind live somewhere out here, but if so, I have no knowledge of them." He shrugs. "I suppose I'm not one to talk - elves are rare in these parts, and tieflings doubly so!"
The laughing leshy then turns his blue eyes to Nidintu.
Perhaps, I can explain properly how leshys are made. With stew!
"Perhaps yes..." Orlund says, smiling and nodding.
He makes a very placid diplomatic smile at the old hermit, noting his odor. He shouldn't be one to complain. But somehow, he thinks, this man is worse to be around than me.
Orlund says regarding the apothecary and everyone else, "Well I'm sure there's something useful we could find here." He examines the bottles one by one, idly as he speaks.
"I am called Orlund the Fair." he smiles hiding his teeth as best he can. "Bokken, we are venturing into the stolen lands. I wouldn't dare to speak for anyone else as to their motives. The question is, what are you doing out here? What causes Bokken to live bravely on the frontier, if I might be so bold as to ask?" Orlund makes sure to turn the question away from himself, but his own curiosity and desire to be heard make it hard for him to stay out of the conversation.