The laws and litigation that lead the Lyran lifestyle lingered even here, the outermost limen between Aabranian authority and what waits within the wilderdeep. Led here in turn by the promise of wealth and a beleaguered local lord Zogolli found something in Penn's manner contagious--what sort of worry can a man that deigns to deal with devils wear so undisguised? The thought was surely to be an unwelcome companion on their journey but Lakmi contented himself with the fact it would not be his only one, a cursory glance given to the trio of travelers  accompanying him. 
 
Zogolli shook from the distinctly un-Dosvean repose, reminding himself that it is the weakest fruit that falls first. This land was peopled by the fainthearted, men and women yoked to the burden of forced fealty and presumed promises; he would be foolish to follow in their footsteps. Lyra was a fat sow to be suckled, he knew this. Knew that the sweat of his brow and steel of his sword were the most valuable currency and that by expedition's end he would see them transmuted into something more tangible. Idly his deft digits spidered over the basket hilt of the rapier on his hip; long and limber its craftsmanship avowed of an easy to overlook lethality, having instantly drawn the foreigner's eye when offered. 
 
"Serah" he'd slur, the halfling's name sinking into the soft sigh that seemed to stick to the sides of Zogolli's accent. For a time he merely married the singular utterance to a vague gesture of hand--the basest suggestion that she set out ahead of the group--breaking his silence to address the assemblage as a whole. "Well begun is half done but before we set out I'd like to say you'll have the unique pleasure of Dosvean cuisine during this no doubt harrowing undertaking." thrummed the fair featured sell sword under an exaggeratedly apologetic chuckle, an addendum quick to follow. "That is what I'd like to say but between watching this one?" he forewarned, gaze traveling to Linoleum in preemptive accusation. "The fates do not favor you." Though sure to be the first to laugh at his own joke it was quickly dismissed with a weak wave of his hand. "I'll hold the center; after all, what do people say of Zogolli if not that he is a pillar in these uncertain times, surely." The last bit he saved for Alexandria, sauntering up and delivering it to her in the sort of whisper one reserves for sweet nothings and acts of conspiracy. True to form it was hard to discern which of the two he intended it as.
 
"Why don't you attend the rear, I'm sure I trust you implicitly. After all, between you and your intangible master someone is bound to blow that whistle the first sign of trouble." He mocked with a measure of humor she might not share, sealing the statement with a wink as he prepared to set out. Banishing from his mind the way with which the nigh primeval weald harbored it's own night beneath countless boughs, heedless of the encroaching dawn. 

[b]Acquired:[/b][list]
[*]Rapier
[*]More Adventuring Gear[/list]