[Jeremold]

  A quick distraction led the bandits into the woods. Sneak around behind the buildings, and there's a horse looking for a friend with no brigand in sight.

 "Hello I'm Frenk, I'm here to see a horse about a horse."




 

[Wormwood]

[Jeremold]

"That poor horse, I had named him Stonewall because that's where I found 'em at. Next to a stone wall. The ogre that hit me from behind killed us both that day. Only by the magics of this place and sheer force of will do you find me sitting here breathing to tell the tale."

The middle-aged blue haired man sipped at his drink, talking to a man trapped in the corner by politeness, small emphatic nods occasionally giving way to brief glimpses of panic "Would he ever cease this inane tale?", and then- opportunity strikes!

The polite man darts out, muttering friendly jibberish as he exits, satisfied he has not offended anyone the poor fellow jogs home to have some porridge and rest.

Meanwhile Frenk continues to drink...

Small sobs and the murmurs of "Stonewall, I'm sorry mate." are unheard by the other patrons, who mostly keep to the far side of the bar.