A book and many things to do

[Anastasia]

You get a sallow, unblinking stare from Deadscales at that, but Bastian just gives him a glare - enough to shut him up, at least.

'Move on, Alyssa, they're not the polite type.'

[Iron Dragoon]

'I'm fairly certain I can throw them around if it came to it, but yes, let's finish and get going.'

"Well, as pleasant as this has been, we're here to get things done. Bastian, master dwarf, shall we?"

[Anastasia]

The dwarf rises as you all go. Once out?

"Crucy." The dwarf says roughly, "Call me that."

[Iron Dragoon]

Alyssa nods, "Crucy. What have you heard and where are you leading us?"

[Anastasia]

"I don't know, but someone else might," he says, "He'll want money."

[Iron Dragoon]

"Lets go, then."

[Anastasia]

d100 real quick?

[Iron Dragoon]

[blockquote]Rolled 1d100 : 47, total 47[/blockquote]

[Anastasia]

You're lead to another tent, one in the back, a bit away from the others. It looks like any other tent, worn and beaten. Crucy steps aside, "In here."

One bonus morning post, rest this evening.

[Iron Dragoon]

Alyssa heads in, keeping an eye on the dwarf and surroundings in case they've attracted attention.

[Anastasia]

Within the tent is an orc. An orc with a blindfold over his eyes, wearing battered clothes with dirt and tears all over. His head lolls forward as if asleep, drool trickling down his chin. He licks his lips as you enter, "One and son, so you are from the deepest depths, beyond this pile of ash, where I see dusty paths, and yet the paths go everywhere that is not dusty, but they take you here, where ash and death are king and queen. Loss and across, the dagger sliced deep, leaving behind the mercy of darkness, but I see you, for I see everything and nothing, all because it struck across."

[Iron Dragoon]

Alyssa raises an eyebrow, "A seer?"

[Anastasia]

Crucy grunts, "He knows things and that's good enough."

"Sweet and teat, red as summers forgotten, I miss them even now, for they open the doors ahead, doors to seek what is sought, a small and delicate taste of yesterday, grown in the warmth of the sun, where under it the same red blood is shed." The orc recites.

[Iron Dragoon]

"A blood fruit of some sort?"

[Anastasia]

Bastian scratches his chin, "A red fruit or similar thing. An apple, strawberries, blood figs, anything like that."

The orc is silent after reciting those words.