Squeaky darts forward to snatch up the knife, clutching it to his chest as though it were his long-lost child. "Lucky I don't slit your blasted throat with it, ye lizardy bastard," he says, apparently unable to keep a whine from his voice even when he's trying to be intimidating.
The leader lets out a quiet snort. "Amphibian, Squeaky. Lizards are..." He trails off, shakes his head. "Never mind. You wouldn't understand," he says dryly.
He puts a booted foot up on a small pile of broken stones, resting his arms on his knee. "Guess it depends, Red. This band of yours seems to have muscle and brains, and The One-Eyed Crows are always hiring. So your choice," he says, looking around to each of the party in turn, making it clear that he's speaking to each of you. "You all either disappear by morning, or you come to the Citadel," he says, nodding his head back toward the tall building you saw on the edge of town as you sailed in. "And sign a contract. Doesn't have to be all of you, either. Who knows, maybe some of you're looking for a change of employment. Show up at the gates, tell them you're here to see Ildemu, and they'll take care of you."