Drinking in the excitement of a crowd for the first time in months, Bugbear marches along blissfully, huge grin on his face. It takes him a moment to realize that the young man trying to get his attention is the same one that spoke up back at the square.


Bugbear ignores the proffered hand, instead throwing a big meaty arm around Wilian's shoulders, half-dragging the poor Wizard along with him towards the tavern.

"Great entrance back there kid, my ear is still ringing! Of course it does that every once in a while ever since they had me wrestle a Yeti up in one of the logging camps in the North. I had that thing in my infamous Rack of Doom hold (I'll show it to you some time) when it let loose a howl right by my ear. Couldn't hear for a week! You're kinda small for a fighter, ain't ya? But I know better than to judge a man by his size. My old wrestling coach, Master Stoneskull, was a Dwarf Monk, and he would toss me across the ring like last week's laundry! And my manager, Dragon Don (rest his soul), was about your size (a little taller), and MAN, did he know how to put on a show! This one time, we were performing down by the docks in some harbour town..."

Bugbear's off in his own world, and nothing short of a maul to the forehead is likely to snap him out of it.