Li stalks ever closer to the gathered men, more floating than walking, as he picks his path amongst the the rare patches of stone and dry ground. The roar of the river washes away most of the noise of the gathered group, but you get close enough to make out patches of sentences amongst their indecipherable slurs and drunken revelry. Phrases that carry on the air clearly enough are, "pretty good'day, boys" and "d'ja see th'looksh on .... facshes?" as well as some raucous laughter and lewd, but clearly playful insults. The one sitting closest to the bridge gets up awkwardly and mumbles something about "making his own river" and staggers over to a nearby tree, while sing-mumbling a jaunty tune about being "seldom sober."

As he crosses into Li's side of the thicket, you can see more clearly that the man is half-orc, and even his drunken slouch and heavy cloak do little to hide his impressive height and corded muscles.

"Iiiii'ma ro-over 'f'aiiii d'greee!" bursts from his throat as he crashes heavily into a tree. He pulls himself to a stand with a wheezy laugh and proceeds to "take care of business" right there. Swaying like a weed in the breeze while humming off key.