BHA: Murderous Musicians (closed and stopped)

Stanley Walters woke up in an unfamiliar place. It tended to be a habit of Stanley to do so, with a habit that his laziness tends to cause him to simply drift off to sleep where ever he wishes, sensible or not. This case was not so sensible he realised he was being glared at by what seemed to be waiters at some restraunt and a rich couple of some sorts, as well as his sleeping area feeling especially uncomfortable.
"You people...... find your own bed...... this ones mine." Stanley mumbled before attempting to curl up for another snooze, an acomplishment for a tall man of more than seven foot, seeming to not care at the slightest of his surroundings.
"Sir, I will have to forc eyou to leave if you do not yourself, your sleeping on this couple's main courses!", one of the waiters growled angryly.
Stan looked over at him in puzzlement before clumsily forcing himself to sit up, bouncing up and down on the table for a fe wmoments hearing a few squelches, not caring the slightest aobut the possible stains on his long, oversized orange coat resulting from it, and turned his shaggy haired, baggy eyed, thin face to the waiter and simply stated; "Chef need sto work on the texture, it was pretty much a hassel to sleep on."
He pushed himself of the table his his ordinary buissness like shoes making a slight clacking sound as it his the patio-like floor. As he stumbled out of the restraunt sheepishly with many a variety of glares at his back, he seemed unimpressed with the exsquiset hand painted walls, the fancy chanderliers, mahogany dinning tables and chairs, or the fancy hand crafted doors. He seemed just as unimpressed by the ordinary run-of-the-mil street, which seemed just like any typical nice neighbourhood type, not too busy, not too quiet, no sign of any trouble happening, or a hint of any coming along.
Stan sighed to himself about this, wondering if he picked the wrong place. Surely someone would notice a trio of manical musicians by now? He shrugged to himself and began staggering back towards the village docks, deciding to have a nice nap at his 'home'.

As Stanley sluggishly stumbled away, with verbal abuse thrown towards him as well as a sat-on cassarole, he suddenly saw Freyja, and stared at her mask for a few seconds in suspicion, until some one threw some salad at him from the restraunt. He then rumaged around in one of his coat pockets and took out a bounty poster stared carefully at it for a few moments before shrugging and shoving it back into his pocket and taking out another, while sidestepping a tossed quail egg.
He raise it up in front of Freyjas face and simply asked; "You look like you know stuff. Seen one of these guys about?" It was a bounty poster for a collective price of 9,000,000 berii on the heads of what seemed to be a rock band with their pet.
The first one pretty much oozed arrogance, with his long wavy blonde hair, a leather jacket and skinny jeans holding his guitar, and wearing spurred boots.
The seoncd one was a bassist, with hair even longer than Stan's, wearing a tank top, some leather trousers, heavy boots and a spiked braclet, all coloured black. He was acompanied by a rottwieler.
Then, there was the drummer, with a punk rocker mowhwak and barechested, he also wore what looked like a pair of patchwork trousers made of red and blue material held together by safety pins.
Stan merely stood patiently for an answer as he was splashed with some white wine.

unfortunetly now closed and stopped