Jexson

Jeb Jexson was thinking about his younger brother Bramwell. He was thinking of how Bramwell died in those ruins in Yondershire. He was not a happy man.

Naraal sat in the corner of the room, a good distance from the main crowd around the bar. He took out his pipe and cleaned the bowl with a small hook, then stuffed it full of fresh pipeweed. Taking up his oval tinderbox, he used the contents to light a flame. 

Naraal had led Captain Greenfield to the side-street tavern with the fewest cockroaches. He knew the Prancing Pony would probably be better accommodation, but there was also the matter of discretion. 

Not that Greenfield seemed in any way discreet.