Nado gracefully takes his mug of ale from the girl. "Well, I am cursed by the gods…or perhaps merely hungry. Good Fash. Might you also have meat and bread in your larder?
“Most certainly, traveler,” he says with a ruined smile. He gestures for the girl to bring out servings for each man. “Are thee travellin’ from afar? Ye’ve the look of far away, and I would know, since I’m Memondalan, at least by my mother’s word.”
“Astuteness is surely one of your qualities Master Fash. Aye. We’ve travelled long and far to reach this place,” Nado drinks a long draught of his ale, smacking his lips loudly and glancing at Bragon. “It seems we be arriving in a place with its own griefs.”
“Aye. Kotso has its own troubles, that’s fer sure. The Lord Orvogan was slain but three days past. Half of his men with him. Ambushed, so they say, by Visel, a lordling to the north. They say he has Maergyr riding with him. Coin-sworn fer certain, but nasty fer us,” says Fash. You easily discern the concern in his voice. “The ale and the food will cost ye a ship each.”
(Campaign footnote: a “ship” is a silver piece, Memondalan)
