The big guy crosses his arms and looks down his rather fat nose, all the way down to Kaitlyn. His arms are crossed, the scarred muscles standing out like logs in their own right. "And you thought that meant<em>everyone</em>?" he rumbled in a voice that you could feel as much as hear. His thick lip tightens over his fangs... and Kaitlyn, perceptive as she is... can tell this fellow is having her on and is trying very hard to hold in a grin. When he sees she's not buying the act, he lets it through. he doesn't have a<em>pretty</em>smile, but it's absolutely genuine.<strong>"Welcome to the Happy Ogre. Sorry about the look, gotta keep up appearances, y'know."</strong>He laughs, loudly, and it seems a few patrons join in. He sweeps one of those tree-trunk arms for them to pass into the common room.<strong>"I'm Grog, and there's always a roof and hearth for the weary and hungry here. <em>Whoever</em> they may be."</strong>There's a tightness in that last sentence, but it doesn't seem directed at the four of you.<br/><br/><strong>"Mary!"</strong>he calls out, waving an oar-like hand at a<div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">freckled blonde serving girl</div><div class="spoiler_body">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/10/f6/5c/10f65c6fb971ce2a58a8e83664010f61.jpg)</div></div>, who hustles over.<strong>"Mary, m'gel, see if you can't find a spot for these four and their sore backsides, huh?"</strong>he looks the four of you over scrutinizingly, from the weapons you carry (which he doesn't ask you to unhand or anything...) to the lean look to you and the mud on your clothes.<strong>"One round of ale and stew on the house, Mary will get you whatever you like past that,"</strong>he rumbled in what passed for a quiet voice for him. As you pass, he would gave Zelbrun a nod and a firm (but not hard) clap on the shoulder.<br/><br/>Inside the tavern is... surprisingly raucus and diverse for such a small town. Most of the people within are human, although a few half-orcs mingle about, and over in yon corner a tiefling and a cobalt-blue scaled dragonborn seem to be havign a heated debate, loud enough for her deep voice to be heard in snippets above the din. The staff behind the counter and in the kitchen (when you see them) seem to be half-ogres same as your host. The servers are a handful of young men and women, all human, and apparently all used to dodging around the occasional pinch or pat from an overly friendly patron. At the far end of the lodge, a raised stage houses a<div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">silver-haired elf girl</div><div class="spoiler_body">(https://cdnb.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/011/037/397/large/tatiana-hordiienko-d.jpg?1527543232)</div></div>who's playing and dancing her heart out on something that seems half sea shanty, half gymnastics routine, much to the apaprent enjoyment of the seats nearest her. The whole air of the establishment seems to be that of a bunch of farmers and laborers letting their laces out and enjoying someone else's cooking. As you all head in, you<em>do</em>get stares... well, mostly Krua, the Aarakocra apparently being far beyond the norm even in this place.<br/><br/>Once you're seated, Mary pulls a slate from the sleeve at her belt. "Ale and stew for all; it's mutton, of course. Will there be anything else?" Her bright green eyes dart between you all, dropping to her slate after falling on Miriam. "Maybe something for those backsides Mr. Grog mentioned?" she offered without looking up, though a teasing smile plays on her lips.