A man appears in the distance, walking with the aid of a cane. In the distance, perhaps just a little, you can hear the traces of a
stirring theme. He advances, looking around. No, advances is not the correct word - the obviously old man strides. And he is also, just as obviously, soaking wet
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Anyway, from what he can overhear, this person possibly needs some help. "Ah," he begins as soon as he's closer. "Is there anything I could help ye with?"
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He shakes out his elaborate cuffs, trying to drain his hat.
"You could find where the devil Buchephalus got to...really, that horse just flits off at the drop of a hat."
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"Good lad, good lad! Big horse, white. Crafty look in his eye. Answers - sometimes - to Buchephalus."
He sweeps his sodden hat from his head.
"And I, my boy, am Baron Munchausen. And I say in advance, my adventures were highly inaccurate as told in stories."
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