Obediah had wrangled two of his servers to come with him, laden down with a wagon to haul a barrel of ale and a basket filled with mugs. He wandered through the crowd, leading them this way and that as he strummed his guitar and sang. Whenever a song ended, he extolled the glories of The Black Sheep and had the servers hand out free samples to the assembly.
"There you are," he said, handing over a frothy mug himself. "With compliments of the Black Sheep."