[hr][hr]	“Sandstorms’ve been brewin’ in the east,” Bruto glanced out at his patrons, casting a curious gaze upon the crowd as if he wasn’t sure he should speak freely. Valrel nodded, the hidden message sinking in as he gave his rebuttal.

	[color=ffc125]“Kevol have been through ‘em before; the goods will make it home safe.”[/color]

	“Aye, lad, but [i]when[/i]?” The half-dwarf leaned forward on the counter, blocking up any space that could allow the next words to drift to curious ears.

	[color=ffc125]“Reckon we’re going to have quite a show on our hands, soon enough,”[/color] Valrel glanced to his left at a disheveled man whose eyes had drifted too close to their conversation, and the raggedy figure took the hint to turn back to his drink. Bruto let out an exasperated sigh.

	“Jus’ what we need down ‘ere… Now I ain’t one to get involved with freedom fightin’ ‘n’ all, y’understand, but when Lex was talkin’ 'liberation', I don’ think his half-breeds were thinkin’ of gettin’ offed like they are,” Bruto peeked out at the mob before barking an order at one of his guards – a scuffle had started between some of the patrons that grew a bit too unruly for his liking. After one was thrown into the gutter and another onto the road, the barkeep shook his head and rejoined the pondering leader.

	“Y’ear ‘bout them Prime Paragon?” The half-dwarf stifled a cough as Valrel gazed up from his drink, his silence serving for an answer.

	“Well, they’ve locked themselves away in their ivory tower – not even the Council can get up to see ‘em,” Bruto stepped back to survey his shelf of booze, finding a thin, short bottle toward the back which he took gingerly into his hands.

	[color=ffc125]“And let me guess – they plan on stayin’ after they get voted out?”[/color] The Dusthawk snickered at his own remark, but the barkeep turned around slowly with a serious expression on his face, eyes still fixed upon the small bottle as he continued.

	“Now I ain’t a learned man, Val, but I got a bad feelin’ ‘bout it all… Them blue lights people been seein’? Bad business, I say,” Bruto uncorked the vial and poured a few drops into Valrel’s glass, causing the deep brown sludge to thin into an amber nectar. Valrel lifted his glass in salute, tilting his head back to finish the drink and stood from his seat swiftly.

	[color=ffc125]“Fairy tales from looneys, Bruto. I wouldn’t trouble so much.”[/color] Setting his glass down at the bar, the man shuffled about in his bag for a moment before drawing out a single Rose stone, nodding to the half-dwarf with a forced smile as he turned away.

	The evening had worn into the night, and the streets of the Gray District turned all but black as any light from above ceased to shine into the underbelly of the city. Valrel pushed his way out from the crowd at the Compass, now doubled in its size since he first arrived, and sauntered through the dimly lit canals toward the bottom-most reaches of Lower Shenul. Every other abode he passed appeared to be abandoned, a sure sign to the deficiency plaguing the Underfolk that presided in this part of the city.

	Valrel meandered a bit in his journey to the Nest, never too sure that he wasn’t being tailed as he crossed disparate alleyways that would sometimes lead him in the opposite direction he intended to go. Eventually he found himself at the door to a humdrum hut, though it stood apart from those surrounding it in that there were no windows nor sparklamps set against its outer wall. Slowly he combed through the contents of his satchel, lifting a copper key from the leather and sliding it into the lock. Carefully, quietly, Valrel pushed the door into the darkened space, placing an ear against the frame as he reached a hand toward his belt, grazing for the hilt of his dagger as he took a step into the darkness.

	Fully submerged in shadows, Valrel shut the door behind him as he tiptoed through the musty interior over to the hearth before cranking a knob on the wall, alighting the fireplace in a bright chartreuse. He glanced about carefully, finally becoming satisfied with his loneliness as he crept over to the bar, placing his satchel upon its surface and withdrawing a lockbox from underneath. Inside were an array of candles which he sorted through before plucking a shorter one from the group and brought it over to the fire, lighting it, and carried it back to set on the bar. He then shuffled through his bag, withdrawing the numerous sheets of parchment and gazed at them all, content to wait throughout the night as his Dusthawks flocked to their Nest.
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