Hroksull alternated uneasy looks between Beleren and Troyas. Beleren had a sort of ferocity that Hroksull admired. It reminded him of some of the loudest warriors back home--the ones who brought back many boastful tales of conquests. Yet, Troyas was not cowed by Beleren's bravado. There was something to this human-elf. He held himself well, though he did not look like much of a warrior to Hroksull.
At hearing a reference to himself, Hroksull straightened his shoulders. He was pleased with the recognition of his fight last night, but that pleasure was marred by the realization that the human-elf used it to insult someone else.
"I could not fight that ogre by myself. That is something the elders can do. I am but a pebble. This Beleren fell while fighting the ogre. He has much bravery. If he did not trouble the ogre, then I might also be on the ground."
He shrugged his large shoulders. "I know I will go out to fight hobgoblins. Your bartender was good to me. I hope all humans in this town are good too."
((Hroksull lends his support for whomever would like to take the lead next. He only speaks his side of the story with a weary resignation that he will have to leave this town and find the hobgoblins without the town's help.))
Assisting Diplomacy 1d20-1 : 15 - 1, total 14