At the interruption of the tales and merrymaking, a frown appeared on Drajhan's visage. Feasting was a time-honored tradition, and honored guests should not be interrupted or overshadowed by others. Not to mention the less-than-pleased looks on the firbolgs' faces. There was little to be done, however. The language spoken by these outsiders was called the high tongue, but it sounded nothing like Draconic. Either it was a distantly-related dialect lost to the Caerziros line generations ago, or these individuals were mistaken. In either case, the servant of the Raven Queen had stepped forward, and Drajhan felt that interrupting her parley would end poorly.

Instead, Draj tapped his foot impatiently on the floor before turning to one of the more attractive female firbolgs. Well, he supposed others of the race might find her attractive. "Perhaps once this party has concluded, you could show us around town," he suggested. "Your people seem wary of us. I simply would like to learn more about this place: its inhabitants, its architecture, its culture..."