You can easily hide under the tables out of sight and out of mind. The food is plain and unspiced- the sort of thing you feed acquaintances you don't feel like you need to impress.
After about twenty minutes of uncomfortable waiting, the door in the far wall opens, and two armed warriors step through. Each is armed with a scimitar and a small spiked shield, and each wears knobbed and cruelly spiked armour. They are scarred and seem extremely suspicious. Directly behind them stoops an ogre, carrying an extremely thin and elderly man in a plain linen wrap. A scarab-shaped amulet is tied around his head, resting on his forehead, and he is covered in old, faded runic tattoos. His milky, staring eyes look at each of you in turn (except Krasslik), and he moves a finger slightly, prompting the ogre to gently lay him down on the padded divan. The old man closes his eyes and mumbles under his breath, seeming to gather his strength to speak.
"G....greetings, friends. I...I am... I am Mingol. Mingol the Conjuror, Wizard of Archport. I welcome.... welcome you to my abode, and trust you sampled the food. It is not poisoned, though it was brought about through magic, in... in case any of you tried to... test it."
Mingol again looks at you all, squinting as if to look through you. He seems distasteful of Guar (who I believe was let inside, unless Endor says otherwise) but says nothing.
"You have... a package for me, I believe. Please place it on the floor near my....my manservant. He will take it to my qu... qu....quarters. Then I will...have words with you. Answer questions.... propose plans. Yes?"