Party 5

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'Breath, calm down. They don't need to know you are angry. Fauntleroy especially, the last thing you want is another argument. Think of what Lander would say. Be the gentle stream. Calm.' The thoughts help him relax a little from seeing the marks on the door and he slowly and quietly climbs the stairs. Looking around he notices what Ismark meant about the place being untidy but if his house were beset by monsters he would likely not be bothered dusting either. Carwyn smiles a little to himself, he hadn't thought about a house of his own for a while. For years it had just been the road and then the adventures and now this nightmare.

He walks into the room and sees that they are busy translating the journal, best not to disturb them more than he had already then. He sets his shield and pack quietly down in the corner. Moving up to Ismark he lays a hand gently on the man's shoulder and gives it the slightest of squeeze as he leans in to talk quietly. "I'll not bother you too much when you are working on things. The Professor is a genius so I'm sure she has this one in hand. Is there anything I can do in the meantime, anything I can help with?" He gives the other man a smile, despite Fauntleroy's dour aura he did enjoy spending time with Ismark. "I don't want to feel like a burden on you."
 
“Tradition,” Fauntleroy says, “is just the pressure to behave like ancient forebears from different times.” She’s not really one for tradition. Tradition dictates one shouldn’t be examining the dead to unlock their secrets; it’s all arbitrary.

What a strange man. The professor purses her lips as she takes one of the copied letters to study them. She stares at the first cipher, tilting her head as she considers the myriad of ciphers. “Hm. What about...?” She grabs for her own quill and ink. “Ah,” she says, “I think I’ve cracked it. Have you heard of an...Azalin before?”

She reaches for the other coded message. At first she tries the same cipher, before she realizes it’s not getting her anything. She clucks her tongue and starts scribbling out possibilities in the margins, and when Carwyn wanders in, she doesn’t look up.

“Quieter, please,” she mumbles, but for once it’s without any vitriol or disdain— she is simply busy, her laser point focus on cracking the code and her feud with Carwyn all but forgetting in the face of an intellectual challenge.
 
Burgomeister's Mansion:

The cipher is fairly easy to crack, mostly due to the passage being so small. After a moment Fauntleroy has the passage scribbled out in her notes:

-------------

My contact in the guard insists that it is due to the beginnings of an embargo but I have my doubts, Azalin would not be so brazen with his attempts. Perhaps it is one of his lower ranked officials acting without his approval?

-------------

Looking up to Carwyn as he arrives Ismark gives a little wave of acknowledgment, before glancing back to Fauntleroy as she mentions the name. "You said... Azalin? As in, King Azalin?" He asks, with a slight frown. "He's, well, the ruler of Darkon. The guy at the top. It doesn't say that they're buddy-buddy with Azalin, does it?" He leans over and tries to peek at Fauntleroy's notes, scratching his head when he sees the decoded text. "That's awfully vague... it could just be political commentary or something, I dunno. But if Azalin is sending one o' his cronies all the way down here, then there might be something else up."

Pondering it for a moment, he looks back to Carwyn and flashes a small smile. "She's been doing great, that's for sure -- cracking the code nearly as fast as I can write it out," he says with a slight chuckle. "Don't think we need anything at the moment, it's been fairly quiet--" He stops himself, as if something suddenly came to mind. ".. hmmm. My uncle should have been awake by now," he notes, pulling out a pocket watch from his coat and checking it before glancing back out the door.

"He came in late last night, says he got pickpocketed or something though that might have been the wine talking. All sorts of trouble popping up at once," he notes with an uneasy sigh, before turning to Carwyn again. "If it wouldn't bother you too much could you check up on him, see if he needs a medical checkup or something? You can call me if he doesn't want to be treated by a stranger but I don't think he'll give you too much trouble." He points to the hallway. "Should be the bedroom door at the end of the hall, on your right."
 
Carwyn smiles and nods, putting a finger to his lips and gesturing to Fauntleroy. He reaches out and pats Ismark on the shoulder before making an exaggerated sneaking motion as soon as he thinks he is outside of Fauntleroy's field of view. He enjoys helping Ismark, the man is genuine and kind and that sort of thing should be met with the same, and a medical check-up is the least of the things he could do to help. After all he is a trained healer and he provided countless travelers with aid and medical help in the months before he met Balion and then in the time since.

He stifles a chuckle at the ridiculousness of all of his movements before he stops by the bedroom door and smooths down his robe. He pushes lightly on the gently ajar door and takes a step inside. He speaks in a calm and quiet voice, trying to convey a lack of hostility and his desire to help. "Excuse me, sir. Your nephew Ismark said that you might need some help. I'm a healer and a priest, I'm trained in medicine. Why don't I take a look at you and we will see if there is anything I can do to help?"
 
Blood of the Vine Tavern:

Edmon tilts his head curiously as Gimble suddenly mentions starting a fighting ring, looking around at all of the other farmhands who seemed to either mind their own business passively or actively stare into their food and drink. "Maybe not here..." he notes, scratching his head. "It's not really that... exciting. Might have more to do somewhere else."

He wraps the blanket tighter around himself before perking up as Mirabel approaches their table once more, platter in hand. "Someone ordered a pot pie~~?" she says cheerfully, sliding the bowl onto the table and handing Edmon a clean fork and spoon to start digging in -- which he does, without hesitation. "I heard something about you folks trying to 'stir up excitement', was it?" she notes, glancing over to Gimble and Balion and placing a hand on one hip. "I personally wouldn't mind it but I've a feeling Alenka wouldn't be too happy about it," She chides with a lighthearted tone. "It'd probably scare off the regulars who just want some peace and quiet."

"Ish there--" Edmon starts, before gulping down a bite and clearing his throat to speak more quickly. "Is there something interesting to do here then, ma'am? We're waiting for the others to come back."

"Depends on your type of interesting, lad," she replies with a half chuckle, patting the boy's head as he shoveled yet another forkful of pie into his mouth. "If you just want some coin, Bildrath at the general store might have some work he needs done by big strong boys like you. Otherwise people here tend to be... less open to 'excitement'," she notes with a hint of disappointment. "You could try seeing if you could hitch a ride to Vallaki, or Teufledorf, if you want a bigger town. There's also--"

She pauses for a second, as if debating whether to finish the sentence. "There's also... a camp, up near the north side of the river. That might be up your alley, though don't tell them I sent you," she adds, flashing a wink after a moment. "But unless you want to join my in my afternoon knitting circle, I'm afraid there's not much else I can do to sate your boredom here."
 
Burgomeister's Mansion, bedroom:

Hearing no immediate response as he enters the bedroom, Carwyn opens the door fully to find what appears to be an antiquated guest bedroom, the sheets and tapestries intricately woven but worn out with age. A wine bottle is tipped over on the night stand, dripping slightly onto the messy bed -- which, Carwyn would note, does not appear to have anyone sleeping in it. A slight draft flows in from the side window, flowing past the bed and the nightstand towards the study table at the side -- on which a crumpled up piece of stationary sits below a drinking glass acting as a makeshift paperweight. Next to it a quill is carelessly tossed to the side of the table, next to the empty notebook where the piece of paper was likely ripped from.

Should Carwyn pick it up he would find in scribbled chicken scratch the following note, the words smeared and splotchy: "Bored. Ain't no one here. Out fishing. Need a drink. --Iosif"
 
“King does imply he is ‘the guy at the top’,” Fauntleroy says mildly. A whole new king she hasn’t heard of, from a place she hasn’t heard of. Fascinating. She files the information away so she could note it down later. “Interesting though— this man’s tone is awfully informal. I wonder whether it’s because of the knowledge his writing is in code, or because he’s on close terms with the king.”

The professor rolls her eyes when Ismark chats with Carwyn when she’s explicitly asked for them to be quieter. Her brow creases into a frown as she looks at the second code again, hoping that it’ll start making sense even if the two men keep talking. What if she...

“Aha.” She smirks a little to herself as she rapidly starts scribbling down what she thinks might be the new message, hand moving as if possessed. “I think I got it. Hm.” She leans back in her seat as she reads the translated message. “Perhaps he was a spy of sorts. He talks about encrypting his messages, and being given a more prominent area to scope out.” Fauntleroy looks at Ismark. “I suppose he would not be talking about this area, would he?”
 
”Hmm” Gimble nods his head in mock agreement with Balion then clasps his hand together Well we could do something akin to musical instruments....

Hearing Mirabel answer Edmonds question he perks up at the mention of a camp at the north side. ”ohh that certainly sounds like my kinda place!” looking towards Balion and Edmond he smiles ”Edmond I think it would a splendid idea to check that out! I’m sure Balion will keep looking after the two of us as well!” winking at Balion he hops off the chair looking expectantly at the two.
 
Balion smiles at Edmon's observation and then turns to listen as Mirabel explains that stirring up some excitement here might not be the best idea. Nodding along, he slowly blinks as a few options are presented. He begins weighing them and is leaning towards the paying work, memories of his times hunting and needing to supplement said hunts with labor flashing in his mind. His mouth begins to open to suggest that as Gimble speaks up and voices his desire to go to the camp site. He quirks his head slightly and the faintest smirk upturns his lips as he catches being volunteered for continued guardianship. Slowly looking at each present, pausing for a moment on each, before ending on Mirabel he gives a small smile. "Thank you kindly for the offer on joining your knitting circle, but it seems at least one of us..." He motions to Gimble. "And I'm sure at least one other..." He offers a playful and knowing wink to Edmon. "Wish to set the turning of our Wheels in the direction of this camp. Could I ask you to let the rest of our friends know where we went and to meet us there when they arrive?" He reaches into the folds of his clothes and pulls out a gold coin, offering it to her. "Relaying the message wont go unpaid of course, and as a sign of thanks for being so...understanding with us." His voice soft and warm, not unlike a summers breeze.

Looking to Edmon he gently pats the boys shoulder. "And of course, we wont set off till this pot pie is good and finished..." He turns a smirking look on Gimble. "Isn't that so, Gimble." The question said as a statement and with the ghost of a chuckle in the sound of it.
 
Carwyn sighs to himself as he looks over the empty room, leaning down to pick up the note. He scans it over a few times and sighs even harder. Moving over to the window he looks out and his confusion mounts, the man he had seen last night in the inn was drunk and old so how could he have left a room without anyone noticing. The cleric thinks for a moment and shrugs, he must have left when the three of them were out fighting the hordes of the undead. That made far more sense than an old man somehow leaping out of a second story window and landing without leaving tracks. Note in hand he backs out of the room and closes the door, heading back over to the pair by the book.

He takes Ismark by the arm and gently leads him further down the corridor and away from Fauntleroy so they can talk a little without disturbing the wizard. He hands the note over to the burgomeister and gives a small shrug, speaking in a whisper to the other man. "Seems your uncle has decided to take a little trip and, unless he is hiding his identity as a master thief, he left before you got here. It is my medical opinion that he is probably fine if he is able to move around like that." He chuckles to himself lightly a little. "If it is okay with you, I will head back to the tavern now. I want to check up on Edmon. I feel guilty leaving the boy for so long after he went through such an ordeal. I know he's safe with Balion and Gimble, I trust them completely, but the extra company can't hurt and I don't want to disturb Fauntleroy by sitting idly near her as she works." He thinks for a moment and then an idea strikes him. "Ismark, this will seem like a strange request but you wouldn't happen to have any clothes from when you were a boy would you? We rescued Edmon with just the clothes on his back and those are torn to shreds. Mirabel at the tavern is stitching them back together but having more than one set of clothes might be helpful for the boy. And a bag or rucksack too if you have one. I can pay in coin or favour for it."
 
Burgomeister's Mansion:

---------------

Leaving earlier than the others did provide me with some security in my function, considering that I was generally given the most prominent areas to scope out rather than slowly dying in some obscure region. However, it has been accompanied by generally more scrutiny in my character and intentions than I have previously had to deal with. They insisted, for one, that my encodings should be more broad to encompass anything regarding my job, with any direct references even using an entirely separate code. I do not enjoy this extra work on my end but I suppose greater position in the organization is understandably accompanied by more chains.

---------------

"...Huh." Ismark squints at the decoded message, the simple reading out loud by Fauntleroy not being enough for him to process. "I wouldn't think that this ol' place would be considered 'prominent', we've got a few decent towns but they weren't even here to start off... though from what I hear the people at the top aren't terribly fond of each other. That's King Azalin and Count von Zarovich," he notes, taking care to explain it all just in case. "Still as far as I knew both Darkon and Barovia had sorta mutually agreed to leave each other alone, so a spy hanging out here is... concerning, to say the least. Must be something important."

Waving over to Carwyn as he comes back he flashes a smile before following him outside. The smile fades to a look of questioning as the cleric shows him the note. "Wait he's... gone?" He scratches his head, seeming to mull things over. "Well I hope he isn't up to any shenanigans... I'm a tad worried about him but then again there's only so much trouble he could get into here, at least in the village. Thank you for letting me know though, and I'll be sure to keep the professor company while you head back."

Thinking to the request he rubs his chin, before nodding to himself and gesturing for the freewalker to follow him down the hall. "A rucksack I'd have to look around for, but I'm reasonably sure where my old childhood clothes were stored up in the attic. Don't worry about paying me back for those at least, it's better than collecting dust."

Looking to another smaller door to the side he fumbles with a large set of keys in his pocket before finding the right one and unlocking the door, seeming to lead to a cramped set of dusty stairs. "I hope the kid doesn't mind fancier clothes, that's all my mum ever dressed me in. I think she liked to spoil me because I was an only child."
 
Carywn shrugs at the response to the rucksack. "Don't worry about the rucksack then friend, I will keep the things in my pack for him. You are too kind." He smiles at Ismark's back when he was being led down the corridor, once again struck by the generosity and kindness of the man. By the gods he hopes it is not misplaced but everything he knows about people tells him to trust in Ismark. He wanders up the stairs and into a dusty attic, coughing a couple of times but trying to stifle it so he didn't raise the ire of Fauntleroy a few rooms over. Pulling his robe up over his nose and mouth to cover from the dust the cleric looks around, noticing the old furniture and mirrors. Everything seemed well made and in good condition, he didn't understand why it had all been shut away but he did not want to pry.

Carwyn looks in the boxes that Ismark indicates contain his childhood clothes. He pulls some pieces out and holds them up, trying to work out sizes, before settling on some of the more basic clothes that were available. It seemed that Ismark had hit a growth spurt around Edmon's age that the poor lad hasn't had yet. He did not want Edmon to feel out of place anywhere or overly concerned about the clothing if they were traveling, a young boy from a farm that hadn't been out from his village would likely never have seen clothes this well made before. He settles on a two tunics, one blue with black military stylings and one brown with grey sleeves and two pairs of leggings, one in green and one in grey. He also packs some other essentials like underwear, socks and handkerchiefs that he finds. Eventually he pulls out a green traveling cloak, a large black oversized coat and a black woolen hat. He packs it all away into his bag and closes it off before putting the rest away tidily.

Finally done he turns to Ismark and gives the man a hug before stepping back and looking into his eyes. "Thank you, for everything Ismark. You have been generous and kind and wonderful, a true friend. That is something I did not feel I would encounter here given our start and you have restored my faith. I imagine we will stay at the inn again tonight since we have nowhere else to go so when you are done with Fauntleroy please come and visit. I truly hope that the Mother of Waters grants her protection over you always. I will see you tonight, friend." With that he walks down the stairs and, as quietly as possible, leaves the mansion and makes his way back towards the inn.
 
Burgomeister's Mansion:

Ismark takes the hug awkwardly but happily, as if it were an uncommon occurrence for him, but he smiles and nods nonetheless back at the cleric. "And likewise, people like you and the professor and your friends are few and far between, it's the least I could do. I only hope that we can figure out whatever's going on here -- I've just got a gut feeling that there's something more to it, though maybe that's just because hardly anything every happens in this sleepy little village at all."

Chuckling and shaking his head, he walks with Carwyn down the stairs to see him out. "I will certainly try to visit if you're still in town, after I settle things with the professor and probably also find my uncle," he notes, glancing out the door but frowning slightly as he seems to see no trace of the man from the night before. "In any case, this is certainly the most excitement I've had in a long while. Have a good day and see you around possibly."

Closing the door as Carwyn leaves Ismark slowly makes his way back up to the study where he left Fauntleroy, sitting down and trying not to make too much noise. "So... what do you think so far?" he offers eventually, after he's sure he isn't distracting her too much. "This is still nearly seven months ago -- er, just over two hundred days. I can keep going through chronologically if you'd like, though it might take a fair while until we figure out why he became like... that," he finishes, gesturing vaguely in the air.

Blood of the Vine Tavern:

Edmon grins at Gimble and Balion, before turning back and digging into his pot pie. Within a few minutes he's licked the bowl clean, taking it and his utensils and scampering up to the bar to slide it towards Arik, who imperceptibly seems to nod at the boy before beginning to wash them clean.

"Oh, I can relay a message easily enough for my best customers of the day," Mirabel coos, shaking her head at the gold coin. "You folks have been generous enough for outsiders, and I haven't even finished mending the little one's clothes." Turning to Edmon at the bar she takes a second to ruffle through his raven black hair before shaking her head and continuing to smile at the adults. "You have fun now, you hear? And again, don't tell them I sent you -- it's a surprise."

Edmon is soon out on the streets, leaving Balion and Gimble to quickly follow after him. He only gets a few steps before he seems to stop in his tracks, gazing towards the north road leading towards the church. Down that street an old woman seems to slowly push a rickety cart, stopping at every house and methodically knocking three times on the front door regardless of how run-down or abandoned it seemed. The young boy seems to fixate on this before slowly taking a step back and turning away. Avoiding any chance at line of sight he looks in the other direction, only to see Carwyn walking up from the Burgomeister's house. "Oh, Cary!" he shouts out, starting to scurry towards the holy man. "How are you? The others want to go visit a camp, or something."
 
“Those in power usually do not get along,” Fauntleroy says. She’s seen it before, though on smaller scale; professors who do not get along, their students getting caught up between them. She’s tried to stay out of such squabbles the best she could, but it was always a somewhat fascinating look into the behavior and social politics of power in a microcosm. “Perhaps he was not here as spy,” she thinks out loud. “Perhaps he moved on from that. Hard to tell, unless we continue to translate his words and code.”

She watches as Carwyn takes Ismark apart before she turns back to the notes and translations she’s made, looking through them again. The situation was peculiar— why would a spy from another nation be in a town where, by its burgomeister’s own words, very little seemed to happen? Or rather; what was hidden her that had drawn the eye of a spy? If the man was a spy still at all. And then there was the question of the man’s transformation into a zombie. That did not just happen. What was the source for that?

The professor is frowning at the notes in her hands when Ismark returns from his talk with Carwyn. She nods when he sits down. “I think it is very strange. We must be missing some pieces of this puzzle. Was he still a spy? What was he looking for? I do not know if we’ll find the answers in his journal, but it is our best lead right now.” She nods at Ismark’s suggestion. “I think it might be for the best if we were to skip forward a bit, to see if we can find out what he was after and what caused this to happen.”
 
"Edmon, well I am very happy to see you that's for sure." Carwyn grins as he sees Edmon running towards him. He leans down and reaches out, scooping up the boy and lifting him up to meet his eye height. There is only the faintest of winces from the wounds he took in the morning as he does so. He runs his fingers through Edmon's hair, tidying it up a little from where it had been ruffled earlier and humming a little as he does so. "I have had a very, very eventful morning. How has your morning been, did you get lunch?"

He carries the boy over towards the other two using his shield arm and waving with his free hand. "Gimble, Balion. Great to see you both. Is everything okay? A camp?" He looks between his friends and the boy with a smile. "As long as we can get back before dark I think a little bit of traveling might be fun. More fun that fighting some zombie wizard spy in a run down old house at least, which is what I spent my morning doing. I doubt Fauntleroy will be joining us anytime soon today. She is working with Ismark to decode the spy's journal. Some puzzle or other." The cleric shrugs a little, his two traveling companions would be used to hearing of scrapes and fights at least. They had been in enough of them together.

Carwyn thinks for a moment and then grins. "Thanks to Ismark I did manage to get some more clothes for this one though." He turns to look at Edmon in his arms and smiles encouragingly. "Some very finely made things Edmon, you will look like a prince I imagine. So this camp, what way do we need to go and would you like to walk or do you want to stay up behind my shield?" He glances over to Balion and inclines his head to indicate the elf to start leading the way as they walk.
 
Balion inclines his head in thanks to Mirabel. "Your kindness will be remembered, thank you. And I'll be sure to let it stay a surprise then." After a soft chuckle, he quietly watches as Edmon seems to get more animated at the idea of heading out. After a moment he quirks his head to the side as he realizes it also might just be he got that pot pie he was wanting. Standing, he waves bye to Mirabel and goes to follow Edmon out. Seeing the odd reaction in him Balion watches him closely and then to the old woman and then back to Edmon. Before he had a chance to ask after him to make sure he was alright Edmon is suddenly off and at Carwyn's side.

Balion nods to Carwyn's question. "Yes, Gimble was wanting to find something more entertaining than sitting at the tavern. Just as much for his sake as Edmon's, I think." A soft, small chuckle escapes him as he winks to Gimble. "We were told it was up by the north side of the river." He pauses and listens to the events of his and Professor Fauntleroy's morning, all while nodding slowly. "I am sorry we weren't there to help, but I am glad that it seems to have been handled well enough...a spy though...for whom or what?" He reflects on the news in silence for a moment before shaking himself back to the now while muttering. "I wonder..."

As he goes to take the point, Balion stops by Edmon and lays a reassuring look on him. "If you wish to talk about whatever..." He waves vaguely at where Edmon had stopped and zoned out. "was on your mind then, just know I would listen for you." A small smile is flashed before he begins to lead them on to their small 'adventure'.
 
Village of Barovia:

Edmon can't help but let out a small laugh as Carwyn lifts him up, mostly out of pleasant surprise. "Yeah, miss Mirabel is really good at cooking. She made a really nice pot pie." He keeps his gaze focused on Carwyn as they walk back, clearly interested in his story about zombies and wizard spies, but also partly seeming to avoid looking down the other streets. "That's cool, I hope they figure it out soon. What do you think it could be about."

Looking back to Balion he nods at the mention of entertainment. "Mirabel mentioned something about a camp down the path, must be full of gypsies or something," he notes idly, though he doesn't put much thought into it. He shakes his head at Carwyn's offer of carrying him. "I'm fine with walking, been sitting down in the tavern all morning with the blanket. It's pretty cold in there. Hope it isn't like that all the time."

When Balion asks after him he pouts slightly before quickly shaking his head and starting to walk along after him. "I'm fine, just not hungry anymore. Let's get going?"

Slowly but steadily the group starts to take the western path out of the village, greeted by a bit of foot traffic from wandering villagers but not bothered in any significant way. The dirt road quickly turns southwards, sloping down past patches of grass and gravel before meeting a wide river, clear as a blue winter sky. An arching stone bridge rises gently over the waters, and Edmon takes a moment to look down into its shallow waters before moving on. Almost immediately after the clearing is cut off by the looming trees of the surrounding forests, a slight breeze leading the group towards the shaded canopy ahead.

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"Oh well I'm glad you had a good lunch, I might try and wrangle myself one of those pot pies later. As for the cold, don't worry about it. I have found it takes a day or two and a change of clothing to get used to the weather in new places. You have your blanket and I got you a nice warm coat too so I don't think you will be too cold." Carwyn makes small talk with Edmon as they walk off along the road together, happy to be back with the boy and doing simpler things. His hand is always available if the lad needs to hold it for any reason or other.

As they make their way out of the village Carwyn takes a deep breath, happy to be back around nature and more in the wilds where he has spent the majority of the last few years. When they reach the bridge over the river he looks down into the depths with Edmon for a few moments, watching the movement of the water and feeling it calm him. "You know, Eldath my goddess, she is usually found in streams and rivers like this. The clearness of the water is a good sign, it means that it is pure and it is safe to drink. If it looks murky or muddy you should avoid it. I'd ask if you wanted to go and play in the river but I imagine it will be a little chilly for that at the moment. Do you swim Edmon?"

As they pass through towards the forests Carwyn gestures to Balion, with a grin. "Did you know Edmon that Balion here is a master woodsman, he has hunted in forests far and wide both before and after I met him. I'm sure if you hurry up ahead a little he will be able to show you the animal tracks or different berries you could pick." He picks up his voice a little to attract the elf's attention. "Isn't that right Balion, you don't mind showing Edmon here some woods skills do you?" This is what the boy really needed, some normality. A gentle adventure out of the shadow of the violence and the suspicious glances of the villagers. It's what they all needed really and he looks around with a big smile on his face.
 
With a smirk on Gimble’s lips he tries to catch Balions eyes. Winking at the elf when he does and then shooting his eyebrows up and glancing to the side. his right hand grasping at the piece of cotton in his component pouch and his left hand pointing towards a spot on the ground. Gimble exclaims “Why, look at that! Balion what kinda print do ya think this is?” A strange print with two pads in the front and two clawed fingers diagonal on either side. “Why that’s the strangest print a’ve ever seen! What kind of animal do you think left this Bal?”

Gimble thinks back to the past moments fighting warewolves, meeting gypsies and hearing about the new culture and geography of the strange land he is in. Anxiousness sets in a bit “I wonder how long it will take to become an established trader here” sighing he regrets being so childish to that produce trader “Not a good start that one” .

With a more serious look on Gimble’s face he says “I saw another outsider in the Tavern, he was of another domain I believe. I ‘ouldn’t be shocked to hear there are spies as well.”
 
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