As the Oathbreakers had traveled across the short forests and into the Silent Plains, the burly Dwarf Garlenn hummed a bawdy song called the 'Tavern Wench and the Cucumber.' Though he didn't sing the words other than a phrase every now and again, letting everyone get the merest inkling of the song in their head and claiming his innocence along with their gutter-minds if they spoke up against his humming. 

Once it was time to set up camp, Garlenn gave a glib (albeit joking) remark on the fact he was used to manual labor unlike some, referring to his previous status as a casteless. Without waiting to hear a comeback from the others, he went about finding the timber for the fire, using his large axe to hack through thick tree limbs that looked fine for burning. His axe wasn't made for wood chopping, but it did well enough.  

Very soon he brought back four moderately sized pieces of timber and various smaller twigs, placing them in a rough pile. Once he had them together and placed in the correct order, with the larger limbs criss-crossed and the smaller ones for more able burning, he began to start the fire. That is, until Ovra at the front shouted they had riders coming their way. The Dwarven cutthroat raised a thick eyebrow, and stood up to his impressive height, heading over to stand with Ovra, axe now on his back and his left hand on his belt. 

He right hand rested comfortably behind his back, a throwing dagger tucked into it just in case their new visitor had an unsavory and ill manner about him. Always rude to interrupt someone before they were feasted after all, eh? 

"Got any debts ye not told us about?" Garlenn muttered to Ovra slyly.