"Is that all it takes? I need more friends like that," he says with a soft chuckle.

"If the Ironhands need anything, I'll keep you in mind, if you like. Every now and again one of our vendors asks for a guard to and from the City. Or one of the tieflings, perhaps. Rolan must have needs for potion ingredients at times. And you can trust him not to send you into anything too horrible. He's a bit, mm...pompous, but a good man nonetheless."

Up ahead, there's a yard surrounded by a wrought iron fence. Within are large blocks of granite, stacks of smaller stones for building, and a few odds and ends, including bits of carvings. There are two dogs roaming the fence line, but for as big and heavily built as they look, they don't seem particularly aggressive, and they're sleek and well-kept. Barcus whistles to get their attention, and they run to the gate, tails wagging. He reaches through to let them sniff him. "Yes, yes, I know, I smell like cats. Back up so I can let us in."

"The black and tan one is called Nails, and the grey one is Hatchet. Brounce named them, said they needed to sound tough."