Prissy as can be.

Nightfall has come once again, and with dinner finished, I sit on my comfortable sleeping mat; having just informed everyone of what I learned of Sarmenti.

"Oh, yikes." Responds Ariel, now once more residing within his Alm. "I didn't think we'd get mixed up with someone that..."

"Interesting?" Priscilla suggests, still going through her cloaks grand depths in search of her history books.

"Dumb?" Ashes mocks, polishing her armor.

"Scary..." Zana mutters, pulling her hat down ever so slightly over her eyes.

"Someone that closely related to the Ancients." Gabriella states, placing her staff against the corner of the room nearest to her hammock as she goes to lay down.

"The who-now?" I ask.

Looking to Prissy for help, she takes a breath, then explains. "An absurdly old civilization. Creators of the Compuro; The machine men, who are a great unknown to most. It is said they came from the stars, but that's just silly."

Still confused, I press further. "What's their relation to Sarmenti, or Fawks, whatever..."

Zana is the one who speaks up this time, stuttering here and there from her nerves, she says. "V-very little is known of the K-kings of Krow now, as the Dark Twins burned all records once they t-took power. There is speculation that they are direct descendents of the Ancients, but as for why this rumor was st-started, no source is sure..."

"That... didn't help my nerves." I reply, now laying back down. "How long is this trip again?"

"Only two more days; one and a half if the winds are kind." Says a slick, calm voice from the doorway.

The Smuggler has moved the rag that provides us privacy, and has entered the room, resting his back against the door frame.

Meanwhile, a miniscule figure walks in as well, speaking in a cross tone, with a voice deeper than should be possible for someone so small; a mere two feet tall. "Osil, you scoundrel, get back to our cabin before you get us both keelhauled!"

"Calm down Ehur, I'm just trying to chat with some friendly folk. Look, they've even got a Red Hood." Says Osil.

The one called Osil, the once petrified statue; now handsome smuggler, appears to be some sort of hybrid. His pale skin carries a greenish tone, and his ears are pointed, but not in the same way Zana's are. They point upwards, rather than sideways, reminding me of the goblins the Twins showed be during my arrival. Despite being half small booger-creature, the man was around six'two or six'one. His features were, as stated, handsome, but still had that bit of ugly oddity from his Darker parentage; slightly pointier, more exaggerated. His dark brown hair was slicked back, which his face had a single patch of pointed fuzz protruding from his chin. His attire was a ragged suit, seemingly cobbled together from other outfits of varying sizes; but scraps of a familiar red cloth are tied around his wrist. Finally, at his hips is a single sheathed knife.

Ehur on the otherhand, appeared to be an old gnome. He had soft, yet bulbous features, including a big red nose, similar to the tomato I had with my dinner. His skin was pale, but had a rosy blush to it which warmed the heart. Across his face was an enormous muttonstache, which connected to his thinning hairline. Unlike his companion's horrid attire, the gnome was dressed finely in a brown suit, with matching rounded hat. At his leg was a holster, which held a tiny firearm of some sort.

The little gnome takes off his bowler hat; revealing the top of his head to be bald, and bows to us.

"I am most sorry for my friend's intrusion." He declares most sincerely. "But it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"It's f-fine." Says Zana, having noticed the firearm. "Is that a Saltbox-90?"

"Oh? This fine sidearm? Indeed. I've ever the eye for a fine pistol." Ehur replies.

"Ooh, Zana! Someone else who likes guns!" Ashes calls out, hopping up and down in front of her friend in excitement.

Prissy, on the otherhand, is eyeing the other 'gentleman'.

"Which branch." She says, not an ounce of emotion in her voice.

"Greenhill, Subsector A." Replies Osil, his previous carefree tune having been replaced suddenly with one more respectful; clearly another 'success' of the Runacathies.

She nods, pulling her cloak from her face, standing, and giving the same bow as she had to Maria; which Osil copies.

He then says. "Always a pleasure to see one of the people getting others out of the Dark's mitts. I would have signed up, but I'm not the studious type. Wouldn't be a good teacher. I still keep up with my handler, though."

"How are they?" Priscilla asks, a bit of warmth in her uncaring voice.

Osil replies, his smile showing sharp teeth. "Retired, three kids. The good life... how about yours?"

She says. "The leader of the branch in Tomo. She's on the older side, a great-great grandmother at this point. Elves, you know how is is... but I have to ask. What were you smuggling; no offense. Just a part of my job."

Looking a bit sheepish now, the handsome smuggler says. "Oh, Thrusk talked about it, huh? Neira. Mercs pay well for the stuff in Bounty, and you've seen how I dress. Needed the gold. You know how it is for us once we leave the Runacathy's warm embrace. Very little honest work for us 'monsters'."

Cilla sighs, saying. "Understandable..."

Wait, then why is the gnome; his friend, well dressed?

"How did you two meet?" I ask the pair.

"Oh, we just met on the road, is all." Ehur replies; he's a terrible liar it seems, as he rosy cheeks flare up to a flame as he speaks.

"Its fine, Ehur. You can tell these folk; they won't judge." Says Osil, who now takes a seat on a nearby barrel in the room.

Seeming relieved, the old gnome tries to speak in a straight, even tone. "Ah, well. I've been looking after the boy since his birth. I'm a Surgeon, and liked to travel too and fro from town to town. One day, I ran across a woman on the road, heavy with child, claiming to have escaped a goblin **** camp; seeking someone to help her deliver her baby. I did the best I could but... she didn't make it. She had requests, if this should happen. That the baby be named Osil, after her husband, and that her body be left to her God, Ardor; in nature. I cared for Osil best I could, until the founding of the Runacathies. I took him to them, and they let me stay as a doctor, and once Osil was old enough to leave, I left with him."

Ehur was now a bit teary eyed, a few droplets having made it from his eyes to his mustache; Osil comes over, patting his oldest friend on the back. "Oh come now, you old goat. Your getting soppy on me."

"Bah, boy, I'm just tired. We should retire for the night, let these fine people rest." He tips his hat off to us in another bow, adding. "It has been a lovely night speaking with you lovely ladies, and you as well, good sir."

As he leaves, the greenish rogue follows, saying. "Good luck, Red Hood and the rest..."

He pulls the sack cloth back over our doorway as he leaves.

Zana mutters to herself.

"Aw... we didn't get to talk about the Saltbox..."