The door opens... and reveals a gnoll that can only be Razormane. Hundreds of tiny needles have been woven into the hairs on the back of his neck, and his scale armor seems to have been created by hammering blunted, broken swords and daggers together. An immense Bastard Sword rests beside him, scarred and pitted with age.<br/><br/>He is also amazingly drunk, by the look of it. Easily four drugs of the mite liquor lay scattered at his feet, and he seems to be avidly chugging from the fifth. As you enter, though, he sniffs the air and lays his drink down.<br/><br/>"Ha! Eyefang tuld me that there wasz an elf-ing to be had..." The gnoll stands up and drops his trousers right there, proudly displaying his hard cock. "Are you gonna come crawling to me, shweetie, or do I getz to take ya? I warn *hic* ya, I'm not sho gentle as Eyefang..."