The town was crowded and filled with beings that stank of weakness and uselessness. Durzol, could barely stomach the sight of them as they rushed to and fro on their meaningless endeavors, in a life that was worth not even the excrement he scraped from his boots. As it stood he was not sure if he should report back to his temple or not, to have this place be considered a new spot to spread the word of the mighty Hextor. The weakness could be beaten out of those and with the nasty business in the mines just outside of the city; there was cause for his church to come and help those too pathetic to help themselves. Then they could rake in the tributes and offering to go toward furthering the word and might of the mighty God.<br/><br/>It was something at least. For the past three days the trouble that plagued this town seemed more focused on keeping a secret rather than anyone confronting the trouble.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Cowards.</span><br/><br/>The only good thing that came from any of this was how people parted ways for him, despite the general pressing of the gaggle of people in the market place proper. Apparently, he scared some of them, which suited him just fine and he made no effort to change the fact. When the rain had started and he made his way to the Inn where he had managed to procure a room, he took himself a table by the window two down from an attractive mixed Drow and some hag she was with. There was an unsettling quality to the elder woman, though he doubted she was trouble, especially if that meant he would have a tumble with the younger female.<br/><br/>Durzol was not a complicated male and liked simple things in life, even if others thought him too dumb to appreciate it.<br/><br/>“HEY!” he barked for service from a wench and requested a meal be brought to him along with a flagon of ale and a pitcher that he might refill his own cup rather than wait for her to return. He could smell the fear on the girl as she darted away from him, which only made him grin all the more, which in turn, caused his tusks to be bared more prominently. While he waited for his meal and drink, he took out a knife and worked the blade along one of his tusks, the way one would do to sword or other blade as if he sought to sharpen it further. He had just started on the second one when the old hag spoke up about some treasure and danger to be found beneath the town, the mines most likely a place he had planned to visit himself at some point anyway. Now at least it would seem that fate, or more likely the will of the great god Hextor was as work.<br/><br/>“He…here…” the wench had returned, with a stutter on her lips and a tremble in her hands that he merely exploited with a growl in her direction that sent her skirring away.<br/><br/>A grunt given, as a final acknowledgment to the girl, before he set himself up to enjoy his meal.<br/><br/>When…someone…decided…to be….rude…<br/><br/>The strings of the violin made his ears ache and the hulk of a man rose from his chair to shout over to the offender in Orkish.<br/><br/>“'OH BIJATLH 'E' WAB! NGORBOGH 'OH SHOVE JIH ASS HA'!”