Sputtering a bit on his ale, the barkeep nods, "Tamyn actually. I don't really recall too much else, the night of the murder.. let's see..." He looks into his basically empty mug, "now, that's it... I didn't think it relevant since there are brigands about every once in a while, but there was report of an attack on some merchant or other a couple days west of here. News travels oddly around here sometimes, they said the people looked as if they had been sucked dry and shriveled up, ghosts and spirits they said were angry at them for working with them devil Mythar. Rumor really. They prolly deserved it, whatever got them." He finishes what little ale he has left in his mug.