Autor furrows his brow, trying to think of what would be significant to Lohengrin. "Nothing major. Apparently the bar needs a rest just as much as everyone else."

Hence why he's tending.

"The Aeslin mice arrived," he says and smiles a bit wistfully. "A group of at least twenty dressed in whatever they could scavenge."

He holds his hand over the bar, as if to indicate how tall they are. "They were warriors and priests and Keepers of Tribal Lore. I think you might like them, if you can get past their chanting 'Hail!' at every little thing."