More wraiths died (or vanished) to the wide varying skills and powers of the taverns brave patrons. 

As one unlucky wraith was sent back to the shadows it dropped the dagger bound bag to the tavern floor. It landed with a heavy thud.
With a limping charge the wolf quickly darted towards the object, but by the time it covered that small distance it was no longer a wolf but a man who grabbed the bag. A naked injured Clay poorly used the focused on bag to try retain a modicum of modesty. 
It was clear by the expression on his face that this was not thought through.
As a wraith swooped down at him from above in a fluttering of evil darkness, the shapeshifting bartender launched himself over the bar as he threw the bag away back into the main tavern.

“[b][i]Someone bloody get rid of it![/i][/b]” His wild yell was cut short by a thud as he vanished behind the solid wooden counter.