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A laugh, deep and guttural, rumbles from the far side of the cavern. ‘I see Skalir’s play-actin’ ain’t good enough to fool you, Pathfinder,’ says a man who, until now, has been watching silently in the shadows. As he steps forward, the fire casts a warm glow over his massive frame. He stands over six-and-a-half-feet tall, his face is covered by a thick red beard, and he has a shock of bright red hair that cascades over the wolfskin cloak slung over his shoulders. He smiles, his green eyes bright and piercing, set wide beneath an intelligent brow.
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‘Check on the sentries, Skalir,’ he instructs his lieutenant. ‘And make sure they’ve got their wits about ’em tonight.’ Obediently, the mouse-like man and his four companions leave the chamber. As the curtain is pulled across the archway, the red-haired giant motions you to sit with him at the fire. ‘I am Jarel,’ he says. ‘What do you want from me?’
