"Gentlemen. A party of large creatures came this way recently, and seemingly they were attempting to sneak. Hunters, or ambuscaders. Although the tracks are not fresh, we had best be wary," the ranger's grim voice states cooly in the darkness.
Eldran Hawkshand
The dour knight of Furyondy cannot help but smile at the banter. He carefully closes the flap on his quiver, and secures his weapons, as gravity could now cause a mishap. He then puts a foot on the nearest wall and attempts to walk up.
Girion leads his tired bunch of friends back into the tavern, shaking trail dust from his cloak before entering. He looks for a vacant table as he calls for a couple of pitchers of ale.