"We can have whatever we want from this wretched little place," you say, drawing your sword. "With or without your consent."
The man gulps and raises his hands. "Didn't mean no 'arm, sir. We're just a bunch of poor eel fishermen here."
You sheathe your sword, and he relaxes a little. "Well, seems as if we should offer you a place to stay. You can pitch your tents here in the square if you like, and there's a bunkhouse in the inn. Finest inn in Blightmarsh, it is."
You follow his outstretched arm, and, straining your eyes, you make out a low, squat building on the edge of the mud at the center of the village. From the look of the place, it is the finest inn in Blightmarsh by virtue of being the only inn in Blightmarsh, but it's better than nothing.
Later That Evening