The rune-cloaked cultist looked somewhat surprised at the question. "...Friends, yes." He stated those words with a shortage of conviction. The young man sitting on the chest spoke up.

"We don't come around here much, but we've been on the path a few times. She gives us lodging, we tell a story or two, and we move along." He chuckled. "We've grown to know her a little. Did you know her mother was a sorceress?" The big man lifted his head and glared at the speaker, who simply nodded and idly toyed with a pair of small black knives. "Yep, we've been around the block. So it's you guys who have the busted caravan?"

As he asked, a female scream followed by crashing shelves sounded upstairs.

The young man winced. "He knows her best. They haven't gotten along lately..."