I'm A Banana
Potassium-Rich
First, you know that bit where the bard leaves? Oh no he doesn't! I'm a farmer, you said: burly, biceps like watermelons, used to pushing the plough myself, no entertainment on a Friday night except to get in fights down at the inn. He's a bard missing an arm. I'm hogtying the bard, gagging him, slinging him over my shoulder, and taking him with me as I and my family leave town. It's going to be very clear to him that if my belongings aren't trampled and devoured by the time I get home--if a single one of them is merely stolen by the bard's no-good scammates--I'm feeding the bard to my hogs.

Remind me never to warn YOUR village of impending doom.
