The poor chair seemed to faint once the monstrosity arose with great theatrics, crumpling to kindling under its own legs. Avoiding reprisal, the wench took a step back and pivoted around a patron with the grace of repetition rather than lightly footed as she put come distance from a backhands reach. The minstrel, however, found himself fast in place as the behemoth made a babies 'grabby hands' motion and held out his arm behind him to protect his treasured lively hood in some futile form of keep-away. "Back, beast!" The words were as weak and hollow sounding as they felt as terror gripped the harpist's heart.

Just as quick as they came, they left again. Leaving the orc rather confused as to the wherewithal of the situation. For the moment he smiled as a drink was brought to him but he put his hand upon the tray to stop her. "If you don not mind, I am forbidden from drink. I'll take the generosity in the rounds worth, pour one less tankard and bring me the coppers, if you please." It was a simple lie, but being cut off from his finances means he needed to get every coin he could into his purse.

Looking around, His orcish eyes peered up to the balcony where two stood at the end of the hall before the door with a heated debate. One wore a navy cloak and the other was covered in furs. They seemed to be passing a satchel back and forth as if neither wanted it, nor did they want any other to have it either. Finally, the taller of the two spoke a dwarven word and went to throw open his door into the higher class room.