Tom

To no one in particular, Tom sighs, "Why's everyone always gotta be jumpin' to conclusions...?"

"We was most definitely not a'plannin' on comin' to kill you. I'll be cursed on high to live my days as a horney toad, if that were the case. We were just worried you'd some nefarious scheme concocted for ol'Allard here. Seems you didn't exactly fill him in on your plans, fully, before imprisoning him."

"And now you done hired these nice folk," Tom indicates the centaurs, "to shoot us full'o'holes, and drug us into a stupor. Which, by the by, we're plenty durn good enough at doin' ourselves, if you just point us towards a local tavern."

"So why don't you just a'go and let us know what this here highsummer ceremony you done got planned, and maybe we'll a'willingly help? Because fey who go and steal our blood and bits shore do make me a'nervous. I mean, seriously - Fareltash, how'd you like me knockin' you unconscious and pullin' out your tailfeathers? You'd likely be in a right ornery mood. Am I right?"