Camp grumblings

Hunfrid Marr stared silently at his two newest companions in the Grey Guard huddling close to the fire’s warmth. “Elves,” Hunfrid muttered to himself, a habit born of his long forced wanderings. “I can smell it from here. This whole place stinks of them. Even you, Human, are more elf than man.” Unconsciously his hand slowly strayed down to trace the small outline of his gold purse tucked safely into the hidden panel in his leather armor. “I can take them if needs be,” he grumbles, only the apprehensive look he gives the giant war hammer strapped to the warlord’s back betraying his doubts. “Of all the places, why’d I have to get pushed up next to these two.”