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"Alas for poor Glirdan!" Macalaure said in silent mourning as he came into the bar "Taken too early he was, and by a werewolf, three maybe! Who could have known that werewolves are capable of such gruesome deed? They're a quite companionable folk where I come from. But these here deserve no mercy! They shall be hunted down and taste the heads of our spears! Where now the wain and the rider? Indeed, where? What evil act of elvish enchantment brought me here without my wain? How am I supposed to hunt these creatures down on the open plain, now? Alas for poor Glirdan, we shall never know. But what do I hear you say, these wolves are among us? Maybe sharing our well-deserved pancakes right now as we speak?"
Realising this, Macalaure spoke no more. He took a few pancakes into his bare hands and withdrew into a dark corner of the bar, watchfully observing those who claim to be here on the same purpose as he, piercing their minds with his dark eyes.
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