'So I walked up to him.' One of them, a red-bearded dwarf, says. 'And chopped his legs off!' His companions howl with laughter. 'You should have seen him,' the dwarf laughs, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. 'Flopping around on the ground! Blood spurting from his stumps!'
One of his companions - a hard-faced woman with jet black hair - snorts in amusement and pulls the whetstone along the long, curved blade resting on her crossed legs. Next to her sits another woman, cheeks flushed from ale and laughter.
'Shain,' she says to the blonde elf next to her between peels of laughter. 'Give us another mug, eh?'
The sharp-featured man smiles as he fills her mug with frothing ale. 'You sure you can handle it, sister? You're not built for heavy drinking.'
'Says you, you skinny bastard!' she gasps in mock horror. 'I could drink your weight in ale, little brother!'
'I'm sure,' he says, handing her the mug.