[center][h2][color=598527][i][u]Ansgar Staudinger[/u][/i][/color][/h2][/center]

	The armored priest was setting about cleaning up the camp he had made over night, covering where the campfire had been and obscuring the fact he had ever been there to begin with. Old habits died hard, Ansgar Staudinger mused, ensuring that it would take a great deal of effort to even uncover someone had been staying in that small, out of the way recess in a sheer cliff face. Not that he was high up or anything, the exact opposite as he had been resting at the base, but he quietly affixed the crimson red shawl about his shoulders. It was the only trademark of his order, and the only requirement in attire, considering some wore little more than cloth while those like him wore plate and mail. Casting the idle thoughts from his mind, he slung his war hammer onto his back, for he still had some ways to go, even if the sun had not risen yet, before he was where he needed to be. The Devoured City, an uninspiring name for what it was being used for, but needs must.

	Setting off, Ansgar was quick to return to the main road, thankfully with no other passerbys, the only sound in the land was the falling footsteps, covered in metal and leather as they were, speaking to the spreading darkness that even nature was fleeing it. Cobblestone, poorly maintained, crunched beneath his boot falls, while the salty scent of the air spoke of the coast nearby. The sun hung steadily in the sky, obscured as it was still, casting a dullness on all surroundings beneath it, the chill going unnoticed by the priest as he walked. Soon he found himself walking alongside others, refugees, seekers, and anyone who had reason to visit, seek out, or escape to Venridge. A few recognized him as a priest of sorts, and he agreed to offer blessings, simple as they were, to a handful who sought him out for them. They were brief things, spoken in plain language and earnest heart, sending them on their way with a bit more hope. These days, most folks could use a little more of everything, especially hope.

	[color=598527]"Gods above if this isn't already a proper mess. Dead abandoned, living not far behind. Not even properly looted, hmph."[/color] Muttering under his breath, and with a half hearted snort, the man kept forging forward, going about his grim work. Ansgar would pause by bodies as he found them, performing brief rites commending their souls to the Gods and the afterlife, sometimes if they had tokens of faith, to their preferred God in question. It was anything but pleasant, but nothing unusual. He had lingered after quite a few battles, tending to the dead and dying of both sides. Unfortunately there was no time for burials, nor did he have the manpower or time for the scale needed here. Taking his time would delay him a bit, but his work demanded such things when he could spare the time, and he would reach the gate guards, if you could call them that, without too much of a loss of pace.

	Poor sods wouldn't have been able to scare off a group of bandits, let alone anything of serious threat. Fortunately, there was little of worth out here, at a casual glance, so they wouldn't attract much in the way of armed banditry. Extortion and criminals looking to wring what they could out of the gatherings of refugees, certainly, but no proper bandits yet. But he did scrawl something into the log book offered to him that, if one was generous, vaguely resembled something akin to a name. In one language, at least, so he was admitted with little issue, they weren't interested in debating the man over penmanship. Entering the city, he witnessed the hustle and bustle of the seekers, refugees, and other people going about business and daily tasks. The place had this innate feeling of desperation, some here had nothing left to lose and had come with no other hope left. It was a dangerous kind of hope, one that if it was broken would bring this place to its knees again.

	Ansgar would find his way to the estate, the instructions the guards gave were clear enough, and missing even such a ruined building was going to be difficult. He could see, even from outside, the hustle and bustle of everything going on, and it was likely a center for both chosen and self proclaimed Seekers alike to figure out where to go, and what to do next. With no horse to hitch, he would make his way straight for the door, being admitted by the guard once it was confirmed he was here as a seeker. The hustle and bustle of those present told of those who had been here awhile, and the lack of which told of who had just also arrived. One such young woman, plainly armed outside of a shield with humble heraldry, immediately caught his eye for such a reason. She looked of a newcomer, young but had the stance of someone seasoned in fighting. The heraldry finally rang a bell, a fellow of his order had visited a city in the League bearing that crest. Eastern part, Jumme, or something along those lines.

	[color=598527]"Soldier of Jumme, if I read that dinner plate's markings right. Least it ain't too far from home, eh lass?"[/color] A smirk was on the priest's face when he referred to her shield as a dinner plate, though he lacked a mocking tone that would imply insult. He left his arms at his sides, relaxed as he addressed the young woman he had come across. Who knows how this place worked, he reckoned it was best to figure out who he was dealing with properly, start testing the waters of what to expect out of at least some of those he stumbled across that weren't engaged elsewhere.