Stilgar whilrs around to stare in disbelief at the chair he just kicked back. "Three gold... that simply cannot be..." He begins a thorough examination of the chair, going down on one knee to get a better look at the joinery. "It wasn't even that comfortable," he mutters to himself. He looks up briefly from his inspection to chime in on some of the comments being made.
"It certainly sounds as though the townsfolk could use our help... Payment up front would be handy, although I'd settle for another mug of that ale (up front)... Quite right, no time to waste... Necromancy - didn't think of that.".
Rising to his feet, he gives the innkeeper a disapproving grimace, "I'm afraid you've been had - these chairs aren't worth more than three silvers."