[center][h2][color=a1410d]Ethodi[/color][/h2]

Staring out around the tavern, she watched Vendril move to a table-nearby and go on to speak to one of the server men. She didn't parse his name or much of their conversation, instead focusing on the table nearby with the grey-blue tinted man and the small child. 

She could really go for something more filling than mussels but she didn't think that much fabric would do her poor gut much more good. 

She wondered where that little imp had flown off to, as no new wine had been flown to her. She hoped it didn't come to any harm, though she couldn't quite place why. Perhaps treating it as she would her flock, those sheep she cared for immensely. [@Dark Light]

From her bag, she produced a small round disk of semi-dried clay and a stylus with a curved oval-shaped head. taking care to wipe off the table of any stray liquids with an edge of her chiton she placed it down gingerly. On it was a form cuneiform, which read a language not spoken in much of the world any longer. Once she had read over it once or twice sufficiently she picked it up again and began writing upon it. 

To those who could read it:

[hider=Clay Disk]

One part read as a tally of flock size, rams, ewes, lambs both leaned and not, expected growth and shrinkage, what pastures they had been on and which were fresh. 

the other part detailed some sort of ritual, though much of it was in turn written archaically and make reference to events and moments no outsider could understand. 

The back of the disk read as a partial trade list, as most of it had been smushed clear or rubbed in such a way it was indecipherable. However, somewhat clearly were the words " four golden fleeces "  which had been saved from being smudged off through how deeply they were pressed into the clay. 
[/hider]

She made little effort to conceal her new writing or what was on the disk itself. Believing non around her were interest or even knowledgable enough in the ways that would matter to read it. 

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