At Anavren's remark Steven looks as if he's going to respond, then turns his head to the sky and nearly falls out of the saddle laughing himself sick. "Oh father that was a good one, hehehe, I think he looks like one too!" He says apparently to no one at all. "And by the way flit, I'm not drunk yet, and I doubt one of such slight build as you could hold yer liquor half as well as a Perrenlander, and if ye go making threats like that, I'm sure Ian would be glad to make you sing like an elf maiden, also, I don't follow Rao, he walks by me side, and as to being peaceful, reasonable or serene, well where's the fun in that?" The perrenlander says rather calmly as he takes a long swig from his tankard and begins singing again

"OOooooooooohhhhhh If I had a calf of gold I'd sell it all for mead, not purely for enjoyment, but surely out of need..." He sings deafeningly and exceptionally off-key.
Steven is a small, wiry man wearing spiked studded leather armor and a long kilt of the Perrenland lowlands, his eyes are wild and dart about erratically as he speaks. Blue paint adorns his face in criss-crossed stripes above his eyes.