Rough carved wood, barely sanded down to smoothness, formed several large tables at which sat the descendants of Manetheren. Rentris, Avail, and Maral each sipped from tankards that were not their first for that evening. The mood was light as they enjoyed each other's stories.
The door barely held to its hinges when a panting village scout burst through.
"He's dead! Pedron Niall is dead!" he exclaimed, barely able to get the words out through gasps of air.
Slowly rising from his chair, Rentris had a dangerously serious look upon his face.
"Pedrion Niall is dead...this is grave news indeed... We must help find these assassins...make sure they face justice for their crimes and learnt their lesson..."
After a moment of dead silence, the room explodes into laughter.