"Oh hells..." Ordyn mutters as a few drops of a dark sauce splash over the side of his plate and onto the leg of his pants. "I know the Zhentarim by reputation," he says with a sigh he dabs at the stains with his napkin, "but I don't believe I've crossed paths with them myself. If it is the wishes of our hosts that they be driven from the pass, I see no reason not to do just that." He starts to scrub more vigorously. "I have to say that the straightforwardness of the endeavor has a certain appeal to it."