[Chronicler]

Whyte Urp's only response to his Chronicler friend Shaskee was a gruff nod. "Well. We've been standing 'ere long enough. Let's g get some drinks. Eh?" Whyte folded his arms into his pitch black poncho. It isn't a disability, a problem, or anything really. It's just his habit to keep his arms hidden. Probably to look like a 'normal' Glukkon. He tromped on over to the Bittersweet Opple. Whyte looked up at the large sign on the building with passing memories. He remembered how big of a tycoon this place was back then when he just moved into Spittoonstone. Sheamus was a rather comical sight back then and drunken Outlaws were always a languoring problem around town. One reason why Whyte joined up as authority in this town in the first place ......

"G'daaay persons." croaked out a familiar voice. "Aww shucks ..... G'day Wierdy -- I mean -- Wilma." Wierdy Wilma the wolvark. Whyte has had plenty of negative runins with her. Poor Wolvark seems to be askin' for some type of shining help. Wilma's voice seemed dry. Like her throat got caked in after eating a pile of dust and dirt. "Well uh ..... miss Wilma, we were .... on our way to the Bittersweet Opple. Ya know, givin' the new guy some basic advice 'ere."