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"Any luck?" asked Irena, as the adventurers trudged out of the stairwell and into the kitchen.

"Foul beasts, eh?" said the taverner. "You kill 'em?"

From out in the common room you hear,
Hullo, Is anyone here?
Through the kitchen door steps a tall young man, wearing a dew covered plain brown cloak, he carefully sets his pack down on the floor. As he removes his hood, you see he has tonsured hair cut in the style of a cleric.
He looks at each of you, and appears surprised to see armed men in the kitchen. As he takes his cloak off and drapes it over his arm, you see the glint of his holy symbol, a sturdy mace hanging at his side, and the muscular arms of a man used to hard work.
Um..ahem..Hullo, I say, is the master of this establishment around?

"Here now, there's not room in here for all of us," said Harald. "You there, priest, back to the common room. The rest o' you, I suppose you'll be wanting supper, eh? Follow the priest and Irena'll bring it to you."

Redfaced, Brother Arven moves meakly to the common room.

Solomoriah wrote:"Foul beasts, eh?" said the taverner. "You kill 'em?"

"Kill them? Heavens, no. We invited them up for tea. They'll be here after supper."

Then, a bit more quietly, to Shybolt, "You'll have every twelve year old in town down there throwing mice into the portal."

"12 year old boys make good cannon fodder." Shybolt whispers back.

To Harold, "Yeah we killed a few, some of which were already dead."

Arvin stands next to the bar. He wonders about what he has overheard, foul creatures in a tavern? and undead? That last part certainly fits in with the vision he had his last night at the monestary that prompted him to come down that desolate road to this small town, but what does it have to do with him? He decides to wait patiently for guidance.

Shybolt moves into the common room and takes a seat at a table ready for some hearty stew and strong drink. He looks at the newcomer at the bar, "Well met, stranger. My name is Shybolt Loam and you look to be one of the blessed. If you are looking for some fun, you should come with us into the bowels of this establishment on the morrow. I warn you, though, its a cruel, hard path, especially for clerics. We went down there with one, but for the life of me, I don't know whats become of him. One minute he was there getting his beard singed and slitting throats, and the next he was gone. Just vanished."

Shybolt pauses, shakes his head to clear it, then bellows, "Where's that drink!"