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You're in one of Saltmarsh's streets that lead from the square through a mostly residential area and on to the orchards, meadows and fields. Martin has just said goodbye to Derek, a militia man he joined on his way home from the morning briefing. Reller is just coming into the village.

At almost five feet tall, Reller hides his ears under a cloak as he walks. The blond hair spills out from the cloak and highlights the blue eyes common to his species. With a backpack, he shifts his cloak back to reveal a set of casual pants and a casual shirt. Both the pants and shirt are brown with a dark blue cloak.

Martin crosses into the center of the street, placing himself directly in the path of the newcomer, and extends his left hand, pointing at the newcomer's chest. His expression is stern as he pulls the copper badge from his belt pouch and flashes it and raises his left hand, palm forward. "Friscalettu. Deputy Sheriff. And you are...?"

Giving a smile in reply, Reller intoduces himself. "Call me Reller." He extends a hand towards the other man and asks in a warm tone. "What brings myself to your attention, Deputy?"

"I'll ask the questions here, pal," Martin replies. "Now: if it takes a chicken and a half a day and a half to lay an egg and a half, how long would it take a colorblind grasshopper with one wooden leg to kick the seeds out of a dill pickle?
"You don't know, do you? Just as I suspected," Martin barks triumphantly.
"Don't even bother trying to make excuses. It was a trick question. The answer is Maureen. You may call me Drake. You wouldn't happen to speak gnoll, would you?"

Reller considers the question and strange answers with a hint of amusement on his face. "Well enough, I have some magic that allows me to manage it." He looks at the self proclaimed sheriff and leans forward with a half smile on his face. "Well Drake, you have my attention. What can I do for you?"

"Magic. Good stuff. That's one I'd like to learn, if you'd be willing to teach it. But for now, welcome to Saltmarsh. It's small and cheap, but somewhat friendly. You'll like it here, if you don't have very high expectations.
"What brings you here, other than your LPCs?"

"Indeed, I plan to do some fishing, perhaps." Rellor admits that with open honesty. "LPCs? In any case, I wonder what you would need a gnoll translator for in the area? I do not see many of them here."

"Leather Personnel Carriers," Martin says, pronouncing the words in such a way that you can actually hear the capitalization. "And of course there aren't many gnolls around here. If there were, more people would speak the gnoll tongue, and I wouldn't need to search for a translator. You are trying to confuse the issue. It won't work. Fresh or salt?"

"I prefer fresh water, but salt water is great if you can avoid drinking it." Rellor replies casually. He pauses and asks. "Speaking of issues, might I ask who your commander is in the local government? I have this driving urge to ask about work."

"I don't actually answer to anyone at a local level. I'm attached to a special task force answering directly to the Count. It's all very complicated, but it gets things done with a minimum of fuss. But as for employment, I might be able to direct you to the appropriate individual."

Smiling, Reller suggests. "Why don't we talk about this over a drink. You can explain why you need a translator, perhaps?" Then, he asks. "Care to lead us to the local tavern?"

"Just came from one, actually. Not much being served at this time of the day, but we can talk and walk, if it please you. I have an errand to run - need to check in with my local liaison at the constabulary." Martin leads the way toward the guardhouse. "Apart from fishing, what keeps you busy?"

(( Sorry, weather delay - hurricanes! ))

"Interesting question, I tend to handle small jobs of the arcane sort. Bug infestations, even. The cleansing power of fire." Rellor muses calmly as he walks with the other man. "However, I am interested in expanding my cash flow which either involves a lot of fishing or something else. So, the translating question intrigues me."

"That sounds...intriguing. I, myself, have been known to dabble a bit in the arcane arts, when I am not busy pulling miracles out of teapots. It'd be interesting to compare notes. But I tend to find people are more impressed by fake magic than the real thing. People like to wonder 'how did he do that?'. A one word explanation - 'magic' - is kind of a letdown, capisce?
"I think I should like to introduce you to a friend of mine. She will know what to do with you."