Hurrying off after taking everyones food order, Irene has plates of steaming shepherds pie set before you lickety split. As you turn your attentions to the task of filling your bellies, the door to the tavern opens and a man slowly enters. He is middle aged and has obviously seen better days. A large blood soaked bandage covers half his face and head. The eye beneath the bandage seems to be the source of all the blood. The man makes his way gingerly to an empty table and struggles down into a chair. "Irene!" He calls out. "Ale!"
Irene immediately appears with an ale and sets it down on the table before him.
"By the Gods!" She exclaims upon setting eyes on the man. "Bart, you look no better than you did yesterday. Or the day before for that matter. You feeling any better?"
"Hardly," Bart growls. He takes up the mug of ale and drinks deeply. "Another," he says slamming the mug down on the table.
As Irene heads off, the man watches her go. Then, noticing the inquisitive stares coming his way from a few of the party members,
he barks, "What are you lookin at?"