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His broken common is gruff and stony as he reaches back and pulls the gnarled, hand-hewed crossbow from his back, placing it on the table with a thunk. Metal plates reinforce the knotted wood and a twisted, coarse wire hangs between the re-curved yew lath. "I put five bolts thru a slavers eye at seven'y paces wit this."
His smirk spreads into a wide grin, showing yellowed teeth behind his tusks. "He dead wit the first one, but I think he des'rved payback for the girls him took." He hefts his massive flagon of mead, drinking noisily and belching as he wiped his mouth with his arm. "Took he a ten-count to fall down, too."
His mead gone and his amber eyes narrowing, he leans forward conspiratorially. "Now, what you need me do?"
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