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"Stew," said the waitress, rolling her eyes. "We got stew, and we got ale, a silver for each. You want some?"

"Sounds lovely. Two bowls of stew, then, please."

As the waitress walks away, Timorel turns to Dorne and quietly says, "My treat."

Shybolt quietly stirs his stew nonchalantly while he concentrates his hearing and tries to ease drop on what the dwarf and elf are whispering about so conspiratorially.

Shybolt, listening carefully, breathes a sigh of relief when he determines that the strangers who came in after him don't appear to be after him.

The tavern doors open, and three men walk in, shaking off the rain. Two are certainly human, but the third shows the distinct marks of some orcish ancestry... his blunt, slightly upturned nose, heavy brows and pointed ears not so brutal as those of a full-blooded orc.

The bartender calls out, "Oy, Reeve, was the hunt good?"

"Yea," replies one of the humans, "good enough. Have ye any of that wine left?"

"A bottle, maybe two," replied the bartender. "Irena, go fetch wine for the Reeve and his friends!"

"Do you want stew?" said the serving wench.

"Nay, girl," replied the Reeve. "My wife is preparing duck for us, but she's nay fast, so we came here for a drink first. Wine'll do."

The other human looked around. "Hey, Proyst, has the circus come to town?"

The Reeve laughed. "What sort of moth-eaten circus would waste its time in this place?" Turning to Shybolt, he said, "You, there. What're you called?"

Shybolt neatly chokes on the last of his ale, swallows, then says, "Me sir? I am Shybolt Loam of the Dellfast Loams." Shybolt gives a slight bow of his head. "Lovely village you have hear. A little wetter than my Dell but the people here are kind and generous."

Maliki wrote:"Thank you, and rest assured this kindness shall be repaid, a dwarf never forgets."

"Always happy to assist a fellow traveler," Timorel replies quietly, then turns his attention to the Reeve and his men.

"Well, then," said the Reeve, "It's a pleasure to meet ye. I'm sure ye won't mind if my companions and I join you, seeing as you need so little room." With that, the Reeve sat down on Shybolt's right, while the other human sat on his left. "I'm Proyst Mayros, and ye may have guessed that I'm the Reeve of Redbluff. This be my brother-in-law, Melaxas, and that be Grumm, a fine, upstanding local citizen." Several snickers could be heard from the other table of locals, but they were quickly stifled at a growl from the Reeve.

"Go on, Grumm," said the other man said, "have a seat."

"Well met, Proyst Mayros," Shybolt replied. "And to you Melaxas." Shybolt nodded to Grumm and wondered if his luck could grow any worse. Strangers following him into the tavern, no money for food and what serves as the local sheriff sitting down right beside him. Somehow this Grumm fellow was bound to be bad news, as well.

"Things seem to be getting interesting." Dorne whispers to Timorel, as he watches the newcomers.