Faeril murmured a prayer of thanks to Sulimo as they entered the light of day. It wouldn’t be much protection against anyone who truly wanted to do them harm, be they mortal or monster, but the protection of the light did offer some comfort. After last night, he would take all the small comforts he could get. He was especially troubled by the fact that the demon hadn’t been attacking Beren, but had been trying to get into the hallway. Unless Jonathan had some terribly dark secrets that he wasn’t revealing, he could only assume the thing was coming for one of them. It would have been easier to go through the door if it wanted to get to something or someone on the ground level, but it specifically chose the area where they were all sleeping. Troubling.

At least whoever had been murdering people in the streets didn’t seem connected. Beren had been burned by the hybrid, not bloodied. Whatever was going on with the bloodied corpse with a gaping hole in its side was, hopefully, not their problem. Faeril followed Raddek’s example and moved on without a word. That wasn’t something they wanted to involve themselves in. 

The wharves were impressive, more impressive than Faeril would admit aloud. At some point he would have to take a proper tour of the city and just see how well done their architecture was all around. Everytime he discovered a new location, it seemed to get better and better. Not as good as home, of course. But better than most human works. Faeril scowled under his cloak as his back twinged at the memories. No sense in reminiscing. He wasn’t surprised that the docks were mostly empty of ships. Even for as large and wealthy as Varone was, no one wanted to go to a land that had been cursed by the gods.

Faeril leaned against a wall in the circle, keeping an eye out for anyone taking too much of an interest in them. They didn’t need any overly inquisitive fools bothering them, or thugs trying to rob them. He rolled his eyes at the immediate suggestions for sneaking and stealing. How quickly they forgot that the last time they tried to be stealthy the plan fell apart at the seams. Plus, it wasn’t like they needed to be picking fights in a city they didn’t even know.

“I’d suggest we go to the smugglers. No sense in us getting on the shit list of any group in the city when we haven’t been here long. And given our previous experiences with trying to be quiet and stealthy, “ Faeril looked pointedly at Lorcan before continuing, “I’m going to guess we’ll fail at that. We have the money for it, might as well make a small connection with a smuggler. Easier than trying to sneak in and then having to cut our way out.” He turned to face the group, hiding his coin pouch from any prying eyes, and pulled out the five golden royals. “Unless the smuggler deals exclusively to nobles and the rich, this should be more than enough. Or do a job for them in exchange for the alcohol. And if it all falls through then we can go find some poor bastards and steal their alcohol.” He shrugged, stashing the coins away again and returning to watching the wharves. “Seems easier that way.”

[hider=rolls]

Perception: 1+1 = 2. Faeril is mostly focused on the conversation, alas 

[/hider]