At first, you only notice the steed. What snaps you back to attention is a voice you've heard before, now quavering with delight, and you notice the familiar silhouette astride the creature. His gloved hand trembles with excitement as he points past your eyes, past your armour, and fixes his gaze on the simple prosthetic tucked haphazardly inside your belongings, sitting all but forgotten amongst greater riches.
"Me pegleg!... That's me lucky pegleg!" He wails, confounded and elated in equal measure. "I thought it lost to cruel gods and crueller roads!" Sliding off his phantasmal mount and prostrating himself in theatrical supplication, he blusters an offer so ludicrously generous it defies all reason, his good eye never leaving the unassuming piece of wood.