What
Jon meets Bob Sodturner, the ostler at the Prancing Pony Inn.

Who
Bavor (#25001)...........Jon Goatleaf
Bob Sodturner (#14312)...himself

Bob swings through the door from the kitchen, the wonderful aroma of many foods arriving with him.

Stepping out of the kitchen with a piece of pie in his hand, Bob nods amiably to you as he walks towards the common room.

Jon nods courteously to Bob before continuing to read a newspaper.
You open the Pony Express to Oncemore!, and begin to read...
==================================OnceMore!==============================
After weeks of inactivity, the Shade has apparently struck again, this time striking in the morning as a well hungover Tomas Greeley was wandering home from the Pony after spending all night there. He nearly made it home, too, and was found by his unsympathetic wife, Anna, who merely stated that "my no good husband got what he deserved."

"I never knew what hit me," mused Greeley, as his wife tended to his nasty headwound. "I was just reaching for the door and BAM! I woke up to my wife throwing water on me head. She thought I had just passed out." Mistress Greeley soon noticed, however, the blood mixing in with the water as it flowed away and immediately alerted the authorities.

"This is the first time this Shade fellow has struck far from the Pony," said a Breeguard who wished to remain nameless. "He's getting more erratic and more daring with each strike though. With any luck, we'll have him soon before he does any more damage."

Many Breefolk are clamoring for the constabulary to do something, but with the recent sightings of so-called trolls in the area, other matters are drawing attention away from the Shade and his actions.
=======================================================================

The smell of freshly baked apple pie wafts towards you as Bob walks past. He pauses for a second to peruse the stack of papers Loudo is hawking.

Loudo Silvertongue drops Pony Express.

Bob takes Pony Express.

As he flips through the news Jon mutters. "Shades an' trolls... someone's drunk, I'll wager..." He folds up the paper and tucks it under his arm.

Bob nods sadly as he scans the front page of the paper he just picked, "Indeed sir, no one with half a mind believes in those past their eigth birthday", blushing suddenly he stammers quickly, "lest I don't that is..."

"Aye, there's some foul play afoot, but it's not none ghosts or shades or giants, whatever 'em superstitious folks seems to think." Jon rolls the subject around in his little mind for a moment. "An' all these outsiders showin' up... I don't like it none, I tell you, it's awful queer."

Stuffing the last bit of pie into his mouth, Bob wipes his hand on his pants as he shrugs, "Well, the Outsiders are good for Mr Butterburs business and so they're good for me as well I suppose. Lots of folk stabling horses these days, I even got a nice tip offa one of them dwarves who passed through a fortnight ago.

"Aye, I like 'em longbeards, decent folk for the most part. An' them southerners aren't so bad, either. But them queer Shirefolk, an' them oddfellows from off east... I met one of 'em easterners 'bout a month or so ago, a queer chap if ever I met one. Thought me pipe was magic! Then him an' his friend or wife or whatnot just gets up an' leaves right in the middle of a meal. Queer I say, an' no less."

With a nod of agreement, Bob gets in the spirit of the conversation, "But none are quite so queer as those Rangers! I tell you, those folk come in and I just get the willies! They won't even really let me help them out with their bags and such and most of them even insist of grooming their own mounts, those that have them that is. I'm surprised Mr Butterbur even lets them into the Pony. I don't trust 'em, no sir I don't!"

Jon nods emphatically. "Aye, them's oddballs, I swear! Them big tall folks wit' their 'igh an' mighty attitude, think they're better 'an 'onest folks like you an' me!" He frowns and begins to wring his hands in a knot. "Aye, them's the folks what make me sick to me stomach, queer as all get out an' annoyin' to boot!"

Bob says, "Strange thing about them too is that a few will appear over the course of a day or two, gather for a bit in the common room, have a bit of a talk and then off they go again without even staying the night!" Scratching his head abit he points at the paper, "I wouldn't be a bit surprised if it were the likes of them who are the cause of ol' Henny dropping his taters, they probably couldn't be bothered to pay for them like honest folk."

"Indeed, I bet they 'ad an 'and in all this!" Jon grimaces. "Why, just a week or so ago, I met this feller in the market, talked wit' a funny accent, readin' a book, just ignorin' everyone! Them Outsider are queer as queer can be, make me words." He grumbles a moment longer before looking outside at the night sky. "Ah... I'd best be off, sir, pleasure talkin' wit' you. Wife's 'spectin' me 'ome, y'know, an' she's got an auful temper." He nods politely to Bob as he tosses a coin to Loudo and hurries out of the Pony.

With a quick wave of his hand, Bob says, "and I'd best be hurrying if I want an ale on my break! A good eve to you sir!"