Boztun Badlands, Klos 15th, 350AC, 15:39  (dusk, 31 degrees, new moon)

[audio:https://gwevolution.netfarious.net/wp-content/uploads/2010/05/revenge.mp3|autostart=yes]

Phallon slowly walks forward, and the “loyal” chowzer stays by his side.  The creatures of Big Ax continue to walk forward, except for a handful of chowzers who quickly move clockwise to encircle your group.  The badder archers each hold an arrow loosely on their bowstring.

The northern group of creatures and Phallon get to within 5 meters of one another, and everyone stops.  Numerous rodent eyes bear down on Phallon, and he sees their breath in the cold air.  The huge choo wop steps down from the chowzers bearing him.  He settles heavily in the snow.  He grips his battle ax, which Phallon notices must be custom made, and of excellent craftsmanship.

He bares his incisors and spats out thickly accented trade tongue in a deep voice, “I Grulhar, chief of Big Ax.  You, enemy, has walked our lands.  I want kill you and happy, feed you to young.  But Badder King, his badders, want to talk.  Talk then, but know this.  I look to fight.”

(cheezy rushed pic, but you get the idea)

The armored badder rides his chowzer forward a few paces, ahead of the group, looking like a bizarre miniature knight.  Looking down (barely – even on the chowzer he is barely 7′ off the ground) at Phallon, he says in snarling trade tongue, “I am Sir Cyrr.  King Rrullka of Ukrul has sent a messenger to demand terms from your town.”  He curls back his lips in a sharp toothy smile?  “He is not here, but I think it best for you to talk to me.”  He points at the rest of your group.  “We all talk together, no?”

The chowzer bearing Sir Cyr and your “loyal Chowzer” start to squeek and gabber at each other.

What now?