"We are eager to hear of your master."
Firebyrne's lip wrinkles, revealing sharp fangs, not menacingly, just enough to convey a state of annoyance. As he speeks, his voice, though converting to common language, doesn't lose its draconic growl,
"Not my master. My employer. Though definitely my better at the craft." He lets out a sound that seems halfway between a laugh and a harumf and turns his face toward the door without waiting for the group,
"Shall we?"
Firebyrne nods to blagarm as he leaves the bar. The bartender rolls his lower lip as if to say,
'of course,' and extends an approving hand in the direction of the door off the corner of the common room.
The dragonborn leads the group through the door,which he closes securely after everyone has entered, the light in the room is dimmer than out in the common room, and Firebyrne's skin sparkles as the flickering lamplight of the sconces on the wall play across his scales
"Alright then," he growls in a serious tone that indicates he won't be wasting any time,
"Not sure what I'm to make of the five...," he looks at Dayna,
"or six of you. You're not sailors," he wrinkles his nose,
"but you smell of sea salt." He studies their clothing,
"You're definitely not from Erkemhest," His eyes rest on the group's weapons,
"and I'd like to know where you got those," and with that, he reaches into his boot and produces a dagger...[sblock=Dagger]
[/sblock]Firebyrne displays the knife, holding it up between two fingers of his talon,
"Look familiar?" he flips the dagger and points at the travelers' weapons with the hilt.[sblock=Talon]The dagger is appears to be identical to the dagger you saw on the thieflord's desk back in Varquat's possessed basement.[/sblock] The dagger is made of fine steel even the hilt and handle, and engraved in runes. The grip has no leather, but the steel appears tinted brown by some unknown forge-craft.
Firebyrne continues without waiting for a response,
"If you're thieves, you're stupid ones walking around with those things when it's no secret that both they and I share identification with Hankel's forge, so I can only assume that Hankel's gotten himself into some kind of trouble, and you've come as either hired knives or treasure hunters seeking him out." He takes a breath in an inquisitive pause,
"or...?"