"Olladra's luck that you should all stand in front of my house..." the voice mutters. The eyes dart back and forth, seeming to take in each member of the party there. It lights on Arrgha'n and Oliver, studying the truth of their words, on Yatrax and the others, warily, and then rests on Maavnod. The eyes stick there, widen, and then the slot slams shut. A great deal of rattling, clanking, and snapping is heard, bolts being thrown back, chains being moved, locks clicking, all the sounds of a miser opening his door.
It opens to reveal a short, rotund man of middling years, his head mostly bald and ringed with dark hair. An expensive robe of red and blue strains over his stomach as he waves you in frantically. The hall of the home is opulant, with a mosaic on the floor, tapestries on the walls, and carved chairs in the corners.
"In, in!" he hisses frantically. When all those that choose have entered, he rounds on Maavnod.
"You, goliath! By the Bones of the Keeper, I haven't seen your like in a while, and that wasn't in a good place. Are they following you? The Cult, are they following you? Did you see them, hear them?" The man's questions have an edge of panic to them, and he keeps looking over his shoulder.