Seeing that his 'prey' is clearly a dwarf and reasonably civil, Trombin picks out a particularly large branch and breaks it with his boot. He wants to grab the dwarfs attention and scare him a little at the same time.
"Who are you, dwarf?! Why do you travel alone and creep near our camp? Are there more of you?! GRINDAL! TANNEN!! Get over here!!"
Trombin brandished his sword as he demanded answers.
Feeling a bit rushed “My name is Ragana Thunderspike. I am a faith servant of Mordrain and I am out on my pilgrimage to bring the fire of Mordrain to others and I am am never alone. Mordrain watches me and guides me.” Ragna says with confidence.
Trombin lowers his sword and let's out a sigh of relief.
"Ragana, it is unusual for lone wanderers in these parts. Forgive me. My Name is Trombin Black. I don't suppose you are trained to heal are you? Our group was ambushed by goblins and I'm in bad shape. I will compensate you of course.."
“It would be my honor mate” Ragna says Trombin. “Bring me your injured and I will heal” Ragna sets his pack down then pulls out his ritual stuff. He begins his prayer to Mordrain. He then lays his hands in the first one.
"Thank you Ragna, it seems I didn't need it after all but I appreciate your willingness. Where is your destination? We must get this cart to Phandalin, I assume we are heading out shortly, is that correct Grindal, Tannen?"
You make good time, and the day delivers on all it promised. With only a short stop for breakfast, you arrive at the small town of Phandalin at noon the same day. The little settlement is bustling and friendly, promising good food and good lodging for travelers.
The building is one of the largest in town, and made of red bricks.
"Eh? Come on inside, unless ye be an orc!" The voice inside, that of a young male human, laughs at his own joke. Another voice, much older, replies. "Don't be minding Ander's terrible wit."
The door opens, and a beaming middle-aged man with balding red hair beckons you in. "Welcome," He says, "To me humble shop!
Shelves run up and down the floor of the building, stuffed with more provisions and equipment then they were built to hold. Two young men look up from their seats at an old wooden desk, quills in hand. Almost any equipment an adventurer would need lies amidst the mess- that is, if said adventurer can find it.