Luther puts his palms out. “Listen, I’m not saying you’re not a Great and Terrible Wyrm. Everyone here has the utmost respect for your Terribleness.” The party bobs helmets.
“I should hope.” Fire belches out of Sturm’s mouth with every syllable.
“Here’s my offer: I could save you the trouble of a long and potentially fatal battle. Look at this horde you’ve got here.” Luther picks up a glittering chalice. “We’ll take some middling stuff, and leave you to your nap. At no point will you get stabbed.”
Rutger leans over to Sala. “Good call, picking up a Haggler.”