Wulf Larenson Sorry

As the tavernkeeper looks up at you, his mouth falls open. He clearly didn’t expect you to show up after he sold your unconscious bodies to the “Wind’s Bride” crew. His knees buckle and he tries to slide down under the bar counter, but Alrik manages to seize him by the scruff of the neck.

Any problem?

No problem with me, nah! I… I… Here, I’ll get ya… on the house! Yer health!

Alrik gives Wulf a penetrating stare as he fills your tankards with his hands trembling. Alrik leans over to him and whispers:

If something funny slips into our mugs one more time, you’ll regret it.

Oh, I swear by Efferd’s beard! I’m very sorry for that. I’ll make it up to ya — from now on, everything — half price! Deal, ah? Yer health!