Leave, but don't be rude about it.

I'm sorry Abigail, but I must go, busy day you understand. You say, and again, like flipping to a well worn page in a book, you shift your focus to the nearest group of insects to the halfling.

"-Swear to you guys, the Baneworms LET ME GO!" The halfling, ~What was her name? Ah yes, Nyreen, no, wait, that was her dwarf friend...~ You think as the halfling's insistent protestations are met with guffaws and jeers by the people at the table.

You are using the eyes of a group of barflies, literally, all the flies in a dingy bar, where the halfling, whom you hear from one of the people laughing at her is named 'Lidia Braveheart', is relating her tale of miraculous survival. ~Good Girl.~ You think, happy that she is passing on the story, which some day in the not too distant future you hope will be part of the lore of your church, kind of like that story about 'Daniel' and the Lions you have heard some heroes mention on occasion.

Suddenly your eye is drawn to the shrine of the tavern, and you realize it is one of the, increasingly rare, 'shrines to small gods', and there are no less than 12 'Joss Sticks' burning in it.

'Joss Sticks' are cheap sticks of incense to be used as minor sacrificial items suitable for sacrifice to any god or goddess, which are readily available from street vendors in any city and most large towns, though each church sold ones consecrated to their particular deity at a significant mark up. What was most surprising was that hung around the bowl of sand in which the Joss Sticks burned was a cheap prayer paper, another universal sacrifice, painted with the picture of a Bane Worm.

You draw up the thin streamer of essence and power emanating from the burning joss sticks, and resolve to put it to very good use.