Grok
Dwarf Paladin 7
AC: 9 HP: 27/77 PP: 10 PIv: 9 PIs: 10
HD: 7/7d10, Conditions: none

His glaive readied to lash out at the approaching assassin, Grok pauses as the Flaming Fist arrive, but he keeps a wary eye on the assassins. It isn't until after they drop their weapons that he raises the haft of his out of the ready position, and eyes the approaching guards... and notes the expression on the faces of the assassins.
Still, combat was clearly over, and the bloody dwarf wasn't too interested in starting it anew, instead reaching down and picking up the unconscious assassin he had been carrying, clearly intending to take the assassin with him as he approaches the Flaming Fist. "Morning. Name's Grok. Of Magmaforge. Any problem with me interrogating this fellow?". He shakes his carried assassin. "Think he has something to do with the attack on my clan.". His voice is gravely, but unpained, despite the multitude of stab wounds, the almost total lack of clothing, and the large pack and assassin he was carrying. As he speaks, he flashes his signet ring.

Spoiler: OOC
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(1d20+5)[13] Persuasion