In the corner of the room leading to the secret shelf-door, under a bit of garbage and foul mutton-smelling towels, Krak
begins to regain consciousness.
"Bleh... the food is terrible and the hospitality even worse than that among my own..."
He rolls out of his mound of filth and lays on the floor facing the ceiling. Eyes still shut, the hangover he suffers from was only intensified a few moments ago when the lighting of the room changed.