The leader of this group of ruffians, a tall, wiry man with the bearing of a retired infantrist, looked the group over. He did not seem impressed with their words and was about to speak, when Aelys' sudden eruption interrupted him. It must have been something about the half-elf's posture combined with her words, but he started... snickering. As did the others. Not impressed, but rather derisively - but it did make enough noise to prompt investigation by another man, approaching from the far side of the ruffians.<br/><br/>This one wore the robes and symbol of a fully ordained Pharasmin priest, the head of a parish; if his ears and the color of his skin were anything to go by, there was some sort of goblinoid in his family line. The skin of his face was tight across his bones, giving hem the look of a living skull with thick, bushy eyebrows and a jawline outlined by a white beard. "Gibs Hepehenus! Just WHAT do you think you are doing here? I told you before, Pharasma does not discriminate. Everyone gets to rest in her Boneyard, so everyone gets to rest in the Restlands, too. Now shoo. Go tell the sheriff what you did here, and take your companions with you!"<br/><br/>The leader of the ruffians attempted to protest, but his respect for the old priest's authority overrode any further discussion. Instead, a meek "Yes, Father," was the only response as he gestured his group out of the way, allowing Professor Lorrimor's procession to pass.<br/><br/>"I apologize for Gibs' behavior," the old priest sighed, when the two groups had separated. "There are rumours about the Professor's activities - none of them, as far as I know, accurate. My name is Grimburrow, priest of the local church of Pharasma." He falls in step with the group, escorting them to the site of Professor Lorrimor's grave.