Scurve's eyes looked off to some unfocused point the distance. He spoke as if trying to find something. "Juska… used to be clans of them all along the western coastlands. At least until they were disbanded by some badger and a warrior they call the Taggerung. That's all I know. I think my father was some sortof leader among them. I guess that's where my markins come from."
He looked down at the tattoos on his arm. Then he looked up at the ferret, forcing a friendly smile. "Til now I've never met a survivor of the old clans. What's yer name... friend?"
The old toad who had been watching the event play out, croaked and spat in disgust. "Graaaak. No fight now. No fun!"
He had unwittingly spat on the only Pine Marten in the tavern, a big and brawny fellow. Wiping the foul fluid from his face, the Marten roared out. "I'll kill ye fer that, frog-face!"
The toad fell over backward from a solid punch by the angry beast. Immediately, a brawl sprung up in the bar. Scurve looked at the otter and the ferret. "I hope you two know how to handle yerselves." Drawing his curved blade, the fox hit a stray weasel hard over the head with the handle. "See you on the outsuide of this place!"