And lo, there stands before you, sitting on barstools, sort of, are Lizzarik and Jorb.
Lizzarik, dressed in fine silk garments laden
with rich embroidery, has his back to you
as he enjoys his beverage over a conversation
with the bartender. The aroma of expensive
colognes and herbs rise from his body, somehow
finding the power to overcome the impending
odor of the room. His appearance is such for
a goblin that any rogue could only dream of
emulating. A heavy purse of money jingles
on his belt as he takes another swig of his
Jorb, on the other hand, is a typical Ogre.
That is to say fat, drooling, and mostly naked.
A loin cloth fashioned poorly from the furs
of some unknown beast thankfully covers the
areas that would cause most people to go blind
at the sight of. The stench of his body odor
mingles with that of the room and would make
a virulent weapon of choice had it not been
cut by the far more pleasant aromas of Lizzarik.
But you find yourself oddly curious as to how, in the time it took to go from the door to here, the Ogre seems to have lost well over half of its pudgy weight.
Seeing that both of these arms dealers have
their backs to you, you decide to...