Rideygo 30th, 413.
Three months after Starfall.
Old Kerrn Road, Veythor
The vote had been cast. Three votes for setting out for Evis Nollan, and two neutral. So it was decided, they would get a move on as soon as possible, to take advantage of what daylight they still had, and try to complete the long march.

Gathering up their things again, Gunther led the group with the reins of the mules clenched in his fist. Unless spoken to, the Gano remained silent for the most part, although he did every now and again comment on roaming packs of animals; likely due to his unease given by the cases of wildlife in Dascau. But in spite of the silence, time passed relatively quickly until the sun began to set beyond the western horizon.

Clouds obscured the moon, and Gunther stopped for a moment to dig a shuttered lantern from the packload upon one of his mules. Lighting it with a few sparks from a flint and iron, he opened the panels to light up the road and the roadside accordingly. Liriel, Arianna, and Moto had no difficulty with the less than ideal lighting conditions that nature provided, but the three human men were quite dependent on the shallow light given off by Gunther’s lantern. The pace slowed slightly as they began to keep eyes both on the road conditions ahead of them, and on the roadsides, leery of bandits and other hazards that might prey upon them from the dark.

With the onset of darkness, the temperature dropped greatly, and a slow wind from the south stung exposed skin. Wrapping in cloaks, scarves, and mantles, they were able to shrug off the worst of it. Gunther and Lorin didn’t seem to notice much, but then, their homeland was colder than this on a general basis.

Two hours into the night, the lights of a distant town began to appear long into the darkness. It was a small town, yes, but it was shelter nonetheless. The mere sight of lights, and the approaching smells of smoke from chimneys, gave them a sudden burst of energy, and the distance closed at a rapid pace.

No fence surrounded Evis Nollan, save for what lay around a few small farmer’s fields on the eastern edge of town. From the looks of things, either the crop had failed this year, or it’d already been harvested and swathed to mulch for next year. Whatever the case, Gunther seemed to know where they were going, and led them down the dirt roads of the hamlet, navigating the perhaps two-dozen buildings to lead them up to a two-storied ramshackle inn, its weathered sign bearing a large brown boar, but the name faded over the ages. Shuttered windows allowed thin strands of light to filter out to the roads outside, as well as the smells of some sort of delicious meal.

Leading the mules around to a small lean-to behind the building, Gunther returned bearing the load they carried upon his own broad shoulders, a smile on his grizzled face as he made for the door.

“The owner here is named Eric Vallga, and while he simply stocks a decent selection of ales, his daughter makes the best venison stew I’ve ever…” He was cut short as he pushed the door open, from where they heard a tremendous crash erupt from within the building.

A few shouts erupted, followed by one that sounded quite similar to Moto. A dwarf. And apparently, an angry one. It was definitely trouble.

Stepping inside, the group was witness to an upended table with a Syln man lying at the base of it, his face having been crushed by the fist of a very irate-looking black-haired Krosan shouting down at him, something about ‘not being there, so don’t say anything about it.’ Whatever that meant…

At the shoddy plank-made bar, a short fellow with thinning black hair and a number of wrinkles on his face stood before a lovely young woman, who looked truly terrified of this rowdy dwarf who had just one-shot the then-largest man in the bar. Now, the arrival of Reuban and Gunther had claimed them the stature title, but this stout ruffian payed no heed to them. Rather, he turned on the other three men, who had gotten up from their table. One of them had pulled a knife, and was moving in on the lone Krosan while his friends circled around.

“Oh, that’s how its gonna be, is it?” He roared, stepping forward and drawing a fierce-looking war mallet from its loop, clenching it tightly in both hands until his knuckles whitened. “I’ll show you what happens to those who say a pack of filth-ridden goblins slew the entire Thunderhammer Clan in a head-on fight! You think you were there? There were more than just them!” He slammed a nearby chair with his hammer, knocking it into kindling. A yelp came forth from the woman at the bar. “So if you lie-preaching man-folk, rapists of the land and everybody in it, feel you’ve got nothing better than to make up stories about other people and their misfortunes,” He thumped the mallet head into an open hand, and glared up at the man, who had taken a ready stance, though he was obviously intimidated deeply by the Krosan. “Then lets get to the nitty-gritty and settle this once and for all!’

((OOC: Okay. Evis Nollan has been reached. You’re all standing in the entryway of the inn, and a very angry dwarf is about ten feet away from you on the other side of a table, menacing the human with a knife, who’s friends are lapping around to encircle the Krosan. Things could go down at any moment. From what you can pick up of the conversation, it sounds like the bloodied human on the floor made an insult to his people in some way, but who knows what is really going on.

If anybody needs a descriptor of the common room, just ask, and I’ll do my best to describe it.

Welcome aboard, Grugg ))

Does not like the odds against the Dwarf and it sounded like her had a valid reason to call out the humans. With a shrug of the soulders her pack slid to the front to the side of thte door and swiftly she moved round the others to come up behind one of the human's trying to move in on the dwarf. She silently slides her sword out of its well oiled sheath.

She raises the tip of her blade and touches it to the back of the dirty ruffian's neck.

"I do believe, one on one is a fair fight. Though the Dwarf may feel that three to one is acceptable."

Moto couldn't miss the Krosan "brogue" coming from inside the place. Knowing that, he could guess that the humans thought a lone "shorter" wouldn't have the khalatz to speak up in answer to a slur. They had made the typical mistake of underestimating the size and ferocity of the Krosan attitude. Poor timing, that! Moto had a chance for a warm floor instead of the cold ground, and this -- this effusively verbose and violent Krosan was going to jeopardize that.

As he forced his way to the front of those near the door to see if he could de-fuse the situation, he noticed that the Dur'amani female of uncertain profession had also moved toward one of the man-folk -- as the Krosan had called them -- drawing a long blade to place at his neck in an attempt to stop his flanking movement. Good. Now to see if he could minimize any further damage.

He tapped the backside of his axe against a table -top and raised his voice to be heard by the angry Krosan. "Shakhal, nockh! [Hey, guy!] You wanna get this place all bloody when we just came in for a quiet rest? They may deserve it, but we don't! We'd like ta stay in a place that ain't demolished and open to the cold. If you'll wait until we get settled, I'll even help you get to these gherks by making sure they don't or can't run away from ya. 'Kay?"

Pointing his axe at the other man trying to round-about the Krosan, he yelled, "YOU! Move any farther -- even an inch -- and you'll see just how far and how well I can throw this pretty blade of mine!"

The road towards Evis Nollan was somewhat quiet, but altogether peaceful as Reuban kept the pace along with the other’s led by the pair of Gano towards their agreed upon place of respite for the evening. As the motley hamlet came into view, so too came the scents of smoke and cured meat, and the warmth of chimney and fire exhaust to battle the chill of the night for a spell.

“Ah my traveling companions, to at last rest our feat, and enjoy our fill.” Reuban said, about to add more when a crash inside the nameless tavern bearing a brown boar drew their attention elsewhere. Opening the door revealed a situation that apparently had gone from a disagreeable comment, to a bloody retort of physical, rather than verbal violence, and now threatened to draw into the escalated chaos innocent civilians.

What startled Reuban even more-so was the casual intervention of his companions, who with drawn steel and threats of their own had hoped to somehow quell this outbreak. “Violence begets violence” Reuban said as he entered the common room, his voice loud enough for all to hear. As he approached the knife wielding human, he kept his hands out to the side, uplifted in a non-threatening manner.

“Can this dispute not be resolved without bloodshed? Kindly put down your blade, -turning to the Krosan- and you your hammer and let us not sully your good names, nor the kind hospitality of this establishment with such barbarism.”

Reuban places himself between the two aggressors, hoping to talk them down from a physical altercation, his hand rests at the longsword at his hip, though he has not drawn it. He his ‘holding’ his action, the intent of the others integral to his own response. If either should try to harm him, or pass him in harming the other, he will use his readied action to utilize an improved disarm of their weapon.

Arianna moves to the side and out of the path of the others. She draws no weapon but stands ready in case things go from bad to worse. IT surprised her to see how many of her new companions drew weapons and were ready to use them. especially the bard.

It is not her way to interfere in the actions of others especially when she didn't know who was in the right or who was in the wrong. She did note that the Dwarf was out numbered in this and so she was ready to intervene if he got ganged up on.

Thondrirr Stonehewer was admittedly out of his element, and had been that way for many a month. His many long years had been spent with his clan, whether serving at his post on the city guard or accompanying a mining crew deep in the heart of a crevice, his life had been entirely enveloped in Krosan society. He had given his all for his clan, and it had all culminated in this journey, an honour to be chosen, and a great responsibility to his clan. The situation in his home was dire enough to warrant a venture through the lands of the filthy abovegrounders, and Thondrirr had been chosen for his staunch support of the cause. He accepted immediately despite his personal reservations about the journey. Clan before self, before gain and before all.

The last month had been hard. Crossing the Icereach at first had nearly broken him, its vast expanse devoid of warmth and companionship, the terrain barren and unforgiven. Many times during the nights he had reconsidered his pledge, but ultimately his resolve won through. He looked back one final time as he crossed into Veythor, swore an oath that he would not cross the tundra again without the help his people sought. He made his camp just there that night, savouring his last moment of peace before he would undoubtably be forced to seek shelter among the incessant, inane babble of the human (and god forbid elven) settlements over the rest of his quest. His patience would definately be settled over the coming months.

His first foray into a human town went as expected. Despite his appearance as a weary traveller none asked if they could aid him, reinforcing his already flat impression of their society. A wandering dwarf who stumbled into the Stonehewer clan was not only greeted wholeheartedly but quite often with a large tankard of ale and a pleasant conversation. It seemed the humans had yet to learn anything of hospitality.

Or cleaniness. His quarters had been over-priced, under-serviced, and possibly had not seen maintenance in months. The bed was no softer than the very stone from which his hammer had been hewn many years ago, and he spent the night sleeplessly, cursing the stupidity of the innkeeper for allowing his lodgings to reach such a state of disrepair. He longed for his home in Dascau, a place where he could be sure that a warm bed awaited him each night, and he cursed the innkeeper again. He cared more for his barmaids, and Thondrirr spent about an hour in the common room before their moral bankruptcy convinced him that his time here would be better spent in his room, away from the whorish maids and the pathetic guests who ogled them. He woke early and left long before the sun had rose. The sooner this ordeal would be over the better. Tomorrow would not be too soon.

By the time he arrived in Evis Nollan (a name for the life of him he could not figure out how to pronounce, nor did it matter the town was about as important as a goblin's piss) he had already resolved to make it a quick stop. His patience for these whore-spawn had just about run out, and his warhammer hung heavy on his back, if he had to deal with anymore stupidity this day he would not be held responsible for his actions.

His arrival at the inn went smoothly enough, he barely had to speak the owner for more than a minute to get his point across. Coin was exchanged and he began the trip up to his room when a familiar sound assailed his ears. He looked over at a table to see a tall Syln man absently rolling dice accross his table. Thought he tried to turn away, he eventually relented.

"Just one game, a quick roll for the system and then you get out.", he told himself, "Filthy inbred's probably got them weighted anyway..."
He sidled slowly up the table, letting his bags fall to the ground but keeping the hammering firmly in its loop. He laid a few coppers on the table, probably more money than this pathetic man had seen in weeks and indicated the dice, not wanting to spend any more time talking to the man than he had to.

"'Ey there shorty.", the man slurred, obviously plastered on this cheap watery drink humans substituted for good, strong mead. "I bet...I bet 'ur one them THUNDER-hammers ain't 'cha!"
Thondrirr could feel his pulse quickening. This blathering idiot was quickly getting in over his head.

"I heard youse was wasted by 'dem GOBLANS!" he boomed, apparently proud that he had managed to string together an almost coherent sentence, regardless of its authenticity. "Tiny li'll goblans...no bigger than a kid now ain't 'dey? Why I hear tha--"
Thondrirr didn't even let the lout finish his sentence. Before the man could react he had throw the table over, and his fist was making strong contact with the man's jaw, which gave a satisfying *crack* as it was forcefully closed. The man staggered for barely a second, then his eyes rolled back and he plummetted backwards onto the floor, drool spilling from his now twisted jaw.

"Ye weren't there ya filthy curr, so ye should be knowin' better than'ta talk about it now ya'hear?" he spat down at the man, wiping the blood from his fist. The words felt dirty in his mouth, and he normally wouldn't sink to the level of actually using common, but he wanted to make sure none of the half-wits left standing would get it in their heads that he was one to be messed with.

He looked up. There was one woman screaming, hiding herself behind another man, there'd be no issue there. The three men caught his eye across the room however, one had already drawn a knife and his partners we moving in themselves, obviously unable to realise the mess they were about to find themselves in.

"Tha's the way it's going t'be ya blind fools is it?" his warhammer was already in his hand. "If ye think ah'm of a kind tha' a bunch a goblins can wipe out, ye'r gonna be find'n that ye've made a grievious miscalc'lation.", he roared at them, pausing to spit on the unconcious man as he said "goblin". He swung his hammer out, smashing an unfortunate chair to splinters, and reached toward his pack, slinging his shield up into his off-hand.

“So if ye lie-preaching man-folk, rapists o'the land and ever'body in it, feel ye’ve got nothin' better than to be make'n up stories about other people and their misfortunes,” he clanged his warhammer against his shield loudly, "then ye'll find ah'll be put'n an' end t'yer fables, an' a grim bloody end it'll be!"
Thondrirr readied himself, staring down the three men as they moved to encircle him. He tapped his chest, reassured that he had remember his breastplate. Surely it would serve him now. His warrior instincts began to kick in, and he moved into a more defensive stance. His reverie was quickly broken by something he had expected. Another group had entered, changing the scenario up considerably.

The first thing Thondrirr noticed was dwarf, not of Krosan blood but far closer than anything he had encountered since leaving his home. While a dwarf would be welcome company, his choice in companions was unfortunate. From what Thondrirr could see, the dwarf was accompanied by a pair of elves, one of which had already drawn her blade and began moving, apparently thinking he needed the help of one of her feeble kind. The elf's words rang out against his ears, her shrill elven voice stinging his ears.

"I do believe, one on one is a fair fight. Though the Dwarf may feel that three to one is acceptable." she said, and Thondrirr spat in her direction.

"The day ah need you foul fey be the day ah find m'self in th'ground." he retorted, she'd most likely only make things worse and make a fool of him by association. No he would resolve this insult of honor the way he was trained. By himself and on his own terms.

"Shakhal, nockh! You wanna get this place all bloody when we just came in for a quiet rest? They may deserve it, but we don't! We'd like ta stay in a place that ain't demolished and open to the cold. If you'll wait until we get settled, I'll even help you get to these gherks by making sure they don't or can't run away from ya. 'Kay?"
His native tongue was a refreshing sound after the month of listening to these lesser races' drivel, and though he held no ill will against this dwarf, he was not of his clan, and probably had no notion of what had trespassed.

"Brother, these donkeys have insulted a great clan's honor, and I will not allow this transgression to go unpunished." he spoke quickly in dwarven, how good it felt to speak that tongue once more. "I advise you those that follow you to stay out, lest you want me as your enemy"
With that, Thondrirr moved himself with his back to the upturned table, ignoring the muted calls of another of the humans. Once more he slammed his warhammer against his shield, the loud *clang* sounding throughout the room. "Ye think ye've the skill do ya ye inglorious bastards? Feel'n brave? Well let m'see what ye've got."
((OOC: If I'm acting first, ready an action to strike the first within reach, subdual damage unless the guy with the knife gets serious. If any of the other group come in here other than the dwarf they'll be tasting my hammer as well. Enjoy!))

"Brother, these donkeys have insulted a great clan's honor, and I will not allow this transgression to go unpunished. I advise you those that follow you to stay out, lest you want me as your enemy"
A clan thing, eh? That kind of changes things. Moto looks toward Reuben and Liriel and raises his voice, just slightly, to be heard by the two over the noise still being generated by the opposing sides.

"Reuben! Liriel! According to he whom you are defending, this is a clan thing, a Krosan clan thing. As a matter of honor, he must defend his clan against that which these poor fools have chosen to display or say. If you two persist in your current actions, he will see you as the greater threat and turn on you two first. I strongly advise you not to invite that action. Please leave him to defend his honor as he must, and I will referee this thing. I don't think he will allow anyone else near, and he definitely won't stand for any interference from any of us -- including me."

[[ Regardless of whether or not Liriel and/or Reuben heed Moto's warning, ... ]]

That being said, Moto lays his ax on a table near the door, pulls a chair to the table, then climbs the chair to step onto the table. He then picks up his axe in his left hand and pats the palm of his right hand with the side of the axe-head.

"Right! Now then, you folks have spread the seeds of wrath and caught the attention of one you should fear. So shall you reap what you have sown. No more than you three may approach the Krosan. For by the Beard of Mighty Atlam, I will have at any others who move myself! And if you don't fear him, fear me!"

His stance is meant to convey that he is ready to leap from the table if need be, but is also ready to throw or swing from that very stance. He stares seriously at the three fools that took the Krosan for an easy mark and he sighs, deeply and loudly.

The yelling by the dwarf -- no, Krosan -- was evidently retaliation for some perceived slight by the humans approaching him. While Lorin had no personal knowledge of the Krosans, he knew of them. They prided themselves on their abilities as warriors, perhaps even more so than the Khordaldrums like Motolov. But he also knew they were considered to be lovers of isolation and privacy, sometimes to the extent of rudeness and insults. It was also written that some were "race-intolerant", accepting the company of their own kind, but vocally disdaining the company or help of any other race, for any reason, often to the point of abuse.

At least a part of what he knew was evidenced by the Krosan's conversation with Motolov. While Lorin didn't understand that exchange, the tone from the Krosan seemed almost relieved that he was not alone here. But Lorin understood what the hammer-wielding Krosan directed at Liriel, and the tone the Krosan used toward her almost dripped poison, and was further puncuated by him spitting in her direction.

Lorin wondered what exactly had been said or done that had set the Krosan off, or if it were just a case of an explosion of bad temper. Regardless, what was unfolding here could prove to be interesting. Lorin stepped ot one side of the door and placed his back against the wall, softly reciting to himself a vocal description of what he was viewing to commit it to memory. Even as he spoke, he leaned the staff against his shoulder and folded his arms around it, seemingly at ease since he was outside the immediate area of the conflict..

Arianna continues on her course of non interference and moves over to the innkeeper. though she keeps an eye out for any spill over that might come her way.

"You should perhaps have your girl move off somewhere else right now. I would suggest the kitchen. In the meantime we need rooms we can double up or put three in a room if necessary or if you you don't have enough then space in the common room will do fine.," Arianna continues as if nothing untoward in happening.

Dinner for all of us something simple and warming. a meat stew with vegetables. I am sure you must have a stew or something similar that is hot and ready to eat, also some bread and butter, and cheese, perhaps a fruit pie or some sweet jam tarts.

Reuban listened intently at how Motolov broke down just what this little disagreement meant on a grander scale of things beyond words. To question, no, to insult one's honor was to upheave everything that lay the foundations of importance for an individual, and Reuban knew more than most just what honor, above and beyond mere reputation meant. It's value was beyond compare, and while it could be bought out for a price, sold and lost in the same transaction, the price to regain it, like he, Gunther, and apparently now this Krosan dwarf was far higher than any monetary fee.

"Good dwarf, I accept the terms of this battle as just and deserved, all I ask is that you show mercy upon the ignorant, and try to keep the damages to this impromptu battlefield to a minimum. May Liris show favor upon the righteous."

With that, Rueban steps aside, pulling any furniture he encounters as far away from the coming battle as he can to spare the proprieter any unneeded expenses.

Taking no umbrage and in perefect guttereal Dwarven, "Sorry, it's your fight now." Liriel slips her sword away ahd silence fades into the background.

She takes up a set at a table to the side of the room leaving the field to the lone dwarf.

Rideygo 30th, 413.
Three months after Starfall.
Old Kerrn Road/ Evis Nollan, Veythor
Aside from Motolov, none of the new traveling group had ever encountered a Krosan – and certainly, none had ever dealt with their rage, fuelled both by intolerance and an overwhelming sense of pride. And while the numbers were stacked against Throndrirr, whose name went unknown at the time, his furious presence and declaration of clan honour more than made up for the three against one odds.

Moto translated the situation for the others, and all at once, they began to back down while the Duskarn himself clambered up onto a table to referee, seeking to prevent this from getting too out of hand. Well, any more than it already was. Dwarves looked out for Dwarves, regardless of race. This would be governed by a member of the church.

Reuban made his opinions clear on the matter, though his words went unheard by Throndrirr, who turned his gaze from person to person, and he began clearing away nearby furniture to open up the dueling ground. Gunther, who still wore a mortified look on his face by the scene before them, slowly moved to help the knight of Liris drag a few things out of the way. Most certainly, they were not going to be staying the night here tonight, but the least he could do was lessen the damage done. Arianna, however, moved gracefully around the clutter, stepping over the KO’d Syln, and set forth a request for food and rooms for the night. The innkeeper rapidly turned his gaze back and forth from the goings-on in the middle of his common room, to the elf who had so casually approached him. It appeared as though he were trying to speak, but no words could come out. The young woman with him, meanwhile, darted out and down a short hall, disappearing around a corner, though whether it was out of fear or to meet her request, she could not be certain. So, while she waited, she moved over and took a seat near Liriel to watch how things were going to go down.

Settling himself into a position to survey all three of the thugs at once, Throndrirr clenched the grip of his hammer tightly, moving it slowly from side to side to menace the entirety of the trio, watching, waiting, daring them to go for it. Whether it was a hatred for dwarves, or a courage induced by drink, the one on his left flank worked up the guts to go for it, and tried to snatch up a nearby chair to wallop the Krosan with. Throndrirr turned to face him and swung his hammer in a large arc, but he fell short of his target. He used the momentum built by the heavy weapon to carry him forwards, and his follow-up proved much more punishing as he went for round two, slamming the thug in the guts and driving the wind from his lungs as he dropped the chair and collapsed in a heap.

But he’d turned his attention on one, and the other two rushed Throndrirr from behind. The one with a knife made to stab him in the guts, while the unarmed one attempted to grab and drag the Krosan to the ground, or at least open him up for some slices to the exposed middle. Typical street bullying tactics. These men were no more than ruffians, the group realized at the setup of their attack on a lone target.

Despite being blindsided, Throdrirr managed to outmaneuver his assailants, shrugging the one off of his back, while the one going for the stab found his blade turned aside by the dwarf’s solid steel breastplate. That shot had been made for the vitals! Throndrirr roared at him, spat, and railed him full-board with his hammer, pounding him square in the face and sending him tumbling across the room to land near the fireplace in an unmoving heap, the knife falling from his hands.

Rounding on the last bully, Throndrirr grinned menacingly at him. “An’ you?” He challenged, but his challenge was not met with a steel soul. Realizing his advantage gone, the Syln turned tail and tried to flee, only to be met by Reuban, barring his way. While the big man kept his hands to the sides, he made it clear that the dwarf would not be robbed of his chance to reclaim his honour. Throndrirr did not wait, and rushed in with a powerful swipe, landing the blow against the side of the man’s leg. The impact was delivered with such force that it annihilated all semblance of a knee, crushing the joint to shattered bones and marrow, upon which the man fell with a scream that faded off into black-out pain.

Turning the hammer in his hands, Throndrirr stood alone in the circle, looking over everybody who watched him. They didn’t seem threatening, and the big Syln man had actually kept that one from fleeing. But…they weren’t Krosan. They could be up to anything.

“Out!” Came a shout from behind them, the innkeeper, who still remained behind his bartop. “Out! Please go! By the graceful hand of Mirros, please leave my inn!”

It was obvious that the man had been terrified beyond words at the brawl that just went down, and that these newcomers so casually played their own part in it. Gunther, from his place near Lorin, rushed over at a pace surprising for such a large fellow, and began trying to ease the situation.

“We did not start this!” He tried to defend his group, but Eric would have none of it.

“Out, Gunther! You always did hang around strange folk; it looks like your taste in friends doesn’t change! Go! You’re not welcome here any longer! All of you,” He turned his attention past the Gano. “Please get out!”

(OOC: The fights over. One dead; two KO’d. The innkeeper is panicking, and Gunther is trying to talk him down. You can try to lend a hand, if you’re feeling diplomatic, or can simply do as he says, and get the hell out. Have fun!)

Moto was just stepping off the table he was on as the innkeeper turned on Gunther and his associates, at first begging them to leave, then ordering them to do so as unwelcome intruders. He approaches the innkeeper and steps in front of him.

"Good sir inkeeper? Please? I understand more than most why you are upset. but please hear me for a brief moment. As a tool of the Mighty Atlam's will, so did I condone what you would rather would not have seen in your inn. But these gentle-folk behind me are not responsible for what has transpired here. Indeed, we came in after it had already begun. If someone had denigrated or grevously insulted you and your inn, would you have done any less than to attempt to defend yourself or your honor as a reputable innkeeper? I and my brother will take full responsibility for this incident and will vacate the premises, if you desire. But please do not punish these innocent bystanders for what we two have done. Allow them the comforts of your fine establishment as the weary travelers they are. Atlam and your own Mirros will look the kindlier on you for it. "

[[ Regardless of the innkeepers reaction: ]]

Moto turns to the Krosan and speaks in dwarven. "Brother, I would have words with you, away from the prying eyes and ears of these others. I have a proposition for you, distasteful as it may be. Would you accompany me outside, where we can set up our own camp and talk of things these others would not understand?."

To Gunther and the others, he says, "This warrior and I, at the very least, will be spending the night outside. If the innkeeper is generous, we will see you in the morning. If not, we will accompany you to wherever you go, but will set up a separate camp for the time being."

The hammer felt good in his hand, and as he readied himself to the thug attacks it brought him back to times in his home, training relentlessly with Malog, trained to defend one another, guarding your partners back against an inferior foe with superior numbers, much like now. It was different though, this time he was alone, and far from his home city. He was not unprepared however.

He readied himself for their assault. Their tactical ability was most likely lacking, drunken human filth that they were. Their brutish nature betrayed their potential strategy, and Thondrirr silently thanked Ash his breastplate was made my strong dwarven hammers, hopefully it would protect him this day.

The first game at him from his left, having scooped up a chair on his way, clearly intending to use it as a rough club. Thanking the good fortune that made humans the stupid cattle that they were, Thondrirr waited for the opportune moment before launching his counter-attack, his first swing going wide but the momentum carrying him through to strike the man in the chest with the head of his warhammer. Not a fatal blow, but enough to knock the inbred creature to the ground, no longer a threat.

While he dispatched the first, the other two made their move, seeking to gain an advantage from the distraction the first had provided. Their lack of compassion and common sense, though known to him from others of their kind, further confirmed by their willingness to sacrifice one of their own to gain advantage...and their inability realise they'd soon be joined him on the ground.

The first grabbed him from behind, unlearned in the inherent sturdiness of dwarves. Thondrirr had shifted his weight, shrugging the back of his back, when the familiar clang of steel on steel reached his ears. The filthy dog-spawn has attempting to stab him in the back, he was going for blood. Though he had merely stunned the first of them, he had no objections to granting this other's lust for blood, and he spun about, keeping his centre of gravity low and swinging his hammer in a wide arc, catching the man full in the face, shattered in skull and sending his limp form sailing into the fireplace.

The third, in the cowardly way of a goblin, noticed his numbers had dwindled, and wasted no time in making for the door. While one of the bigger newly arrived bastards blocked his path, he turned only in time to see Thondrirr's mallet make contact with the side of his new, smashing the joint with a sickening pop and causing him to fall to the ground, writhing in agony. Thondrirr paused to spit on his shaking form, his disgust for the man and his comrades plain on his face.

He turned away from the man (by this point completely limp and unconcious) and headed over to the first table he had overturned, pausing for a moment to look at the large brute who was responsible for the "unfortunate accidents" that befell the others in the tavern. He gave the man a rough kick, but while he didn't stir, the movement knocked his hand to the side, causing it to drop the dice it carried. The dwarf, bent down, picking the pair from the ground and examining them. They had rolled a pair of singles, "goblin's eyes".

"An'lucky mate," he said, pocketing the die, "ah'll be take'n these now to be keep'n yer sorry pelt out'ta troubl' from now'un, eh?"
By now the innkeeper, and ugly bloke whose name Thondrirr had neither the time nor the desire to learn, recovered from the shock and started yelling at those left standing, demanding they leave immediately, a direction Thondrirr had already been heading, though he wasn't going to take any orders from this pestilent dog of an innkeeper.

"Ah'll be leav'n ye cowardly bast'rd. Ah wod'nt be sleep'n here if ye had th'finest ale in all th'land." He spat back at the man, pausing once more to spit on the floor before making his way toward the door, pushing past anyone who gets in his way.

He passed the other dwarf, his dour mood stopping him from even acknowleding him as he passed. He was busy speaking wildly to the innkeeper regardless, pleading in his own tongue as well. Sinking to the level of these humans was unacceptable, and had he been anywhere else he would have stopped to reprimand him, but as it was he had no desire to remain here, and the man in the fireplace who now found himself without a face was already beginning to stink. It was obviously time to go.

"Brother, I would have words with you, away from the prying eyes and ears of these others. I have a proposition for you, distasteful as it may be. Would you accompany me outside, where we can set up our own camp and talk of things these others would not understand?."
It was spoken in dwarven, and so obviously to him, he turned to face the other dwarf, who was now staring at him expectantly. It had been too long since he had spent time discussing matters with another dwarf, even a Duskarn. Perhaps a companion for the time being would be good for the soul.

"Ah'll hear ye out friend," he said in dwarven, "away from these tall-ones and frail fey creatures. It will be good to be have'n company of one's kin again. Ah' shall be wait'n fer ye at the outsk'rts of th'city, ah' have no desire to be stay'n in this filth annae long'r."
His piece said, Thondrirr turned away and head for the city limits, where we would wait for the Duskarn. Perhaps he could expedite his quest with his assitance, Thondrirr did not know, but he was sure that the sooner he was travelling again, the better it would be for him and anyone who foolishly tried to get in his way.

(OOC: There)

Liriel shrugs, "Surely you are not going to kick us out into the cold night, when we tried to stop this brouhaha." Liriel looks to the inn keeper. "And I was already to get out my harp and play."

Since another of their party had already spoken to the matter, so she kept it simple.