DM Haldhin:
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"Hair o' th' dog what bit ye, an' all that. Cheers!" Maximus twitters as he accepts a drink from the dapper half-orc's flask. Korvus says nothing but gives both his familiar and Harold a disapproving look before returning his attention to the former guardroom.
"Oi! Grimsley-lad!" the blackbird Maximus gives a pained squawk from Korvus' shoulder. "What was in that rotgut ye let me drink last night? It's set m' head t' throbbin' so fierce them bones on th' table 're rattlin'!"
Maximus flutters about, twittering excitedly as Harold squirts water into the furnace. The bird settles back onto Korvus' shoulder as Bjorn's haunt siphon captures the gouts of flame shooting from the furnace. "'Ere now! Ain't nobody in there! Must've been a trick 'o th' light or somethin'," the blackbird chirps shakily, glancing about the room wildly.
Harold announces to the group, "I fnk I might find myself keepin' an eye on yonder statue dis evenin' just in case aaahr artist friend 'appens not ter be Gibs but some uvver stupid git. If I can catch 'em red-handed, all da be'er." Harold checks to make sure Kendra's home is secure that evening before letting himself out. He makes his way down to the sparkling clean monument and finds a good spot in some nearby shrubbery to settle down and keep a watch over it. The half-orc pulls out his flask of brandy, taking a deep pull when the temperature grows chillier with the encroaching darkness. "Ahoy there, mate!" a melodic voice whispers to Harold from higher up in the shrubbery. Looking up, the half-orc can just make out the shiny, beady eyes of Korvus' blackbird, Maximus. "Th' good Cap'n sent me t' keep ye comp'ny, an' t' give 'im a shout if things get stormy. Pass us a swig o' that swill, there's a good lad."
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