When Telerin (with Whiefang) and Aranel (I think she came with) are gathered in the quieter back room ,along with the newcomers, Bron Bekkle locks the door and turns to the assembled young folk.
The old Tracker looks weary, having spent the better part of the last few days deaing with helping the family of his dead friend cope with that man's death.After a moment and a long sigh, he moves to the table occupying the center of the room and pulls a small pouch from his satchel, opening it and setting several items upon the table.
First is a necklace that by now (except to Kirin) is recognizable as that worn by the followers of Kroggoth, the Feral Beast-God.
Second is a silver ring set with a tiny oak-leaf of gold, it's surface stained with dried blood.
Lastly is a human hand, severed at the wrist...
Bron Bekkle speaks up 'Some of you here 'ave dealt with these debased Monster-Worshippers in the last few days, horrid beasts what kills and slaughters anything they kin catch...I hear stories of Orcs turned to snarlin' beasts, claws like daggers. Then there wuz them Ogres we slayed, Telerin,Aranel and others, brave Whitefang there. And now...'
Bron breaks off for a moment and steels himself,continuing 'Yesterday I came across a scene in the Woods, South and West of here. There wuz blood eveywhere and a trap what'd been sprung. Thet hand there...when I found it caught in the Trap, looking like it wuz gnawed off, it wasn't the hand of a Man, I tell ye...it wuz like a great Clawes thing, and the Ring I found nearby. Thet ring belonged to Rollo Aldermain, a Ranger Friend of mine, a fellow Walker of the Woods, keeping an eye out fer Ormfene(*) and such.
Near as I kin tell, Rollo came across the Beast caught in his trap and then somehow it slayed him. there wuz very litle left of my friend. He had been looted as well, except fer this Ring, which had been left on whut remained of his left hand, as if the thing didn't want to touch the silver. This talisman was brought in by a Roadwarden, found near another attack-site, this time a troupe o'Halfling Carnival Performers headed here from the Southlands. The little fellers were nowhere in evidence, tho a heap lotta blood wuz. I swear thet hand wasn't human...
Bron sips water from a tin cup on the table and rsumes'These here Kroggothites are becoming bolder and attacking more ofen over the last week. A few nights ago a farmer comes into a Warden station, tells of a horrible din coming from the Monestary South and West of here. Like a battle wuz takin' place, He didn;t have the stomach to get a closer look, so he high-tailed it to the authorities. Nobody has gone out there since, though I'm askin fer a group of Folks to do so now.'
Bron Bekkle looks from face to face for any signs of your emotions or of what you think regarding what he has told you up to this point.