Harrington's Inn is a crowded place, the new Arrivals would fit in well with the already assembled crowd of hunters. Fully half the crowd seem to sodden with drink they're obviously here more to leech off the Baron's hospitality than to actually try and hunt anything.

The remainder consist mostly of the players assembled here, Green Bear, Vincent, Marcus, Basil & Geoffery should be coming in about the same time, easily close enough to notice each other. The staff, a trio of Wenches (Ahh, good ole' fashioned Wenches) are so overworked by the extra business that anyone waiting to be served will be greeted with a quick, "Seat yerself, we'll be with you in a bit."

Beyond all of you, notable figures include:

A huge man (nearly the size of Green Bear) with an entirely-too-serious look upon his face who looks like he's never drank a drop in his life, seated with a shifty-looking fellow that looks like the second half of one of those "Unlikely duo" plays those rich snots from the City are always raving about.

Six young men, barely older than boys, loudly boasting about how they're each going to capture the beast single-handedly. What marks them as different from the regular breed of drunks is how they actually seem to mean it.

------

Mr. Rogan searching out for Taen Kras could hear from anyone in town how the King's Hunter is still in bed in the hospital-shrine run by the clergy of Obad-Hai.

The hospital is little more than a tent filled with cots where bandaged men lay waiting for each day's round of healing prayers. Taen himself is easy enough to find among the wounded, being covered in bandages from nearly head to toe ("And that was AFTER the clerics cast their spells" A helpful attendant would let Rogan know while pointing out where Taen was lying down) - He's awake at the moment, but doesn't look to be in too good of a mood.

"Yes?" Is his only greeting.