Kragga snorts. "Feasting time is after a great victory. I fight harder on an empty stomach; how else are worthy foes going to fit?" She pounds her stomach. It makes a "thwack" sound as if someone hit a leather-covered stone wall. Sniffing at the odd customs of these smaller folk, she nevertheless takes and starts drinking ale as the others talk. "As I said," she says more distinctly, feeling sorry for the smaller people, "I am Kragga. Clan Kilden. I have been a warrior and the mother of warriors for near a decade, but-" She shrugs. "My brother runs my clan now. He has to take a mate who becomes the leader of the females, and none are as strong as me, but he can't mate with his sister and I can't obey a weaker woman in my own tribe. So I leave. Sell services as a warrior, get food, money, glory-" Another shrug. "Someday my brother will fall and I will be able to go home and rule. Until then, I have fun out here, yes?" Draining the mug, she peers at the cantrip. Huh. A mage. She didn't have a high opinion of those who fought with magic, but it seemed pointless to chastise him for that now. Besides, he looked as if he would fall over if he wore a proper suit of armor and had a big club. Kragga could at least respect someone who fought to overcome their inferior breeding. For the man who boasts of hiding and running fast, she can't quite control a twitch of her upper lip into a sneer for a few seconds though she holds her peace.