The look of disappointment was evident on Liam's face as the feast turned to a grotesque illusion, "<span style="color: #b35900">While I do love a good joke myself this seems-<span style="color: #000000">" The merchant began as the coffins opened up and their contents spilled out causing the merchant to recoil with some worry. He lacked a weapon to defend himself and even as the others drew theirs, the pudgy man shifted his eyes to seek something of use.</span></span><br/><br/><span style="color: #000000">He heard the mutters of prayers from some, though unsurprisingly enough he remained unaffected... Liam was starting to wonder if he had to start bribing people higher up on the food chain. Heresy to some, of course, but to him this was more of an annoyance. The group's more active fighters had already let loose a mixture of warcries and curses, scattering bone and dust before them. Awkwardly the merchant tried to keep the table of rotting food between him and the undead menace. <br/>
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Two skeletons turned to his direction, advancing slowly uninterested in the more capable fighters for the moment, "<span style="color: #b35900">I don't suppose you cheery fellows are in the mood for a chat now? You know sort these matters out like civilized folk?<span style="color: #000000">" The merchant called, desperately looking for something to defend his large hide. As they drew close and no place to run, the merchant grabbed the nearest tray of food discarding the decayed materials before swinging the tray at the closest foe. </span></span> </span><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>