"Cimon" would find Abrellar Grenvall to be in the midst of one of his usual comical escapades, standing atop a table in the building's drinking hall, waving his staff around from time to time. Faint illusions wandered about him, matching up to the (Obviously ridiculous) tall tale he was spinning for the amusement of the guild. His voice was soft, too old to reach over much noise, but most had learned to pay attention to what he said after his time there. His stories were good fun, after all.
"So there I was, sampling the greatest ale in all the kingdoms far, far beneath the earth in the underground city of Graggleflagger! Oh, how sweet the brew was, with just the right kind of burn, an aftertaste to leave a lordling wanting for more. But I dare say that the company.... Oh the company was better! Not like a normal inn or tavern, surrounded by pretty bar girls to try and grope and squeeze and get smacked by. No, down there they weren't the people you wanted to try and get grabby with youngsters! They were walking.... Talking..."
He paused for dramatic effect, before a pillar of flame shot up behind him, silhouetting the old man's frame with flickering shadow.
"BEARS!"
The old man doubled over as the flames went out, absently stomping a few tongues of fire out where they had caught the hem of his robe. He was wheezing with old-person laughter, somehow finding the tale of Graggleflagger brew and walking talking bears hilarious. Of course, Cimon hadn't come out early enough to hear the whole tale, so he probably just missed the punchline.
Soon enough, however, the old man was pulled away and set to Siris' office, hobbling into the room and giving a crooked grin to the man, dipping into a comical bow, apparently missing the fact that his robes had been hiked up at some point, putting his old man rear on display to the poor souls who might be anywhere behind him. Nasty.
"Youngster! Pulling an old man from his stories, better be something of greeeeeeaaaaat import."
He wiggled his arms at his sides as he stretched out the word great, limbs almost looking like rubber for a brief instant. Crazy old coot...