[center][color=B0C4DE][h1][b]Knossos Dreamwalker[/b][/h1][/color][/center]

It had been a splendid morning, in the mind of the Dreamwalker, despite the sour mood of the animals. The verdantly beautiful scenery of the forest simply called "Emerald" was certainly a more unique sight than the ones he'd seen in the past few years, the air was warm with a bright and sunny warmth, and the fact the forest hadn't decided to swarm them in Feral Lionbears was certainly something he was glad for as well. One could feel how 'alive' this place was, both metaphorically and in the literal sense, and a Living Forest wasn't exactly something he was going to see every day either! It was fascinating, though he hoped the forest would let them through long enough to get to the other side. A druid he was not, but....eh, if it came down to it he could try to communicate? Maybe? He'd have to maybe thumb again through a particular tome he had finished reading through a few nights ago after some weeks on the road. Well, said tome was more like a journal that had been used to compile someone's notes on native occult art and practices in some peculiar jungle far away at least. 

Though after having gone so far to pull the carts and pieces of the caravan along, he also felt like he couldn't blame the animals for needing to rest at least. Except for that slug wagon. It was kept near the rear of the company for a reason, given the slippery trails it left on the path that could make some other animals slip and trip! Last thing they needed was that to happen to anyone, especially when the other animals were getting tired. Though according to said beast's driver, the creature could move quite fast when it wanted to and especially fast if it one held a rotting carrot on a stick in front of its face. Hmm. Still, he did want to go back one day and talk to the driver he'd seen a couple of days ago being pulled along by that pair of titanic centipedes if he got the chance....and preferrablly after those things were fed already to boot. Sure they helped ward off some predators from that part of the caravan, but if anyone got eaten that was not going to help the driver's case!

Still, as he was pondering things while his mostly mundane-looking and well-covered (wooden walls and a nice little roof to boot) wagon pulled itself along on its own he felt some means of thanks to the Vilkyn for that much at least. The rest of the things they'd done to others? Ah, no thanks he was fine with that. Making a mana-gem-powered self-driving-and-stopping traveling wagon though? It had taken a few years to get and make the components for it, but it was so very worth it compared to what he'd had before. Pfft. Having to conjure some wiggling monstrosities to pull it was simple and all, but having to get permits or temporarily dismiss them or coming up with some excuse every time a paladin or war cleric or such came over his direction when they stopped in the larger cities eventually became a bit of a constant headache for him there.

[quote][i]"Knossos, O Walker of Dreams. What do you know of undead and old tombs? More than I would like, I imagine. We are very near to some of both. Ready your occult knowledge close at hand to protect us. But, please, spare my sensibilities the details."[/i][/quote]

Athulwin was not a bad navigator, he had to give him credit, but the man was as lazy as anything sometimes. Not that magic didn't make it easy to send some quick messages about the Caravan, so perhaps his passing thought there was a bit moot. But if it came to chopping wood or other such hard labors? That was where he felt most correct in that thought about the other man, really, and more secure in it. Still, he didn't mean Athulwin any bad or ill-intent, nor would be speak about the man like that behind his back. His personal thoughts were just that, personal and private and subject to change. Besides, he hadn't a clue about the other man's past or history for that matter....but he knew one thing for sure since he'd first seen him: 

Dark magic clung to the monk-like man like parasite, the aura feeling to the occultist as if it was leeching and drinking from Athluwin like some kind of horrid cup of living wine. A horrible curse likely cast on a horrible night, if trends for such things lent themselves to taking a guess, and placed on one who seemed to be a sort of monk of all things. He could sense it, feel it even, from the other man. Likewise the other man had been watching him for some time, as if wary somehow about him since that they had shaken hands the night he'd introduced himself to Athulwin. Was it a case of 'had bad experiences with dark magic' or perhaps a case of 'it takes one to know one' though? In the end, it mostly didn't matter if they kept things peaceable between them. He'd tried to only ever be genuine and friendly in return, and even shared some meals with the other man over the past several years to boot. No issues. Not trying to get rid of him. None of it. And if Athluwin wasn't prying into him, he wasn't going to do it in return either out of mutual respect and precaution. 

Not that he was the only other one there with some kind of dark magic palpable on them, even if Athluwin was the most perceptible to him thus far. Everyone had secrets to hide, it seemed, after all. He'd only pry or do his thing with more 'cloak and dagger' type discreetness if they made themselves a danger to them all or the caravan as a whole.

[color=B0C4DE]"Alright, Athulwin, I'll come up there to see what's going on."[/color]

Speaking in a pleasant, yet calm, matter-of fact tone to the airy magical messenger, the occult expert of the caravan would sit up from his spot at the covered driver's seat of the wagon as it pulled over to the side where he had his own little spot. From here the magic-user would lightly hope off of the wagon, before stretching his arms and legs. He didn't need to worry about anything trying to steal from the wagon at least, if nothing else. A few well-placed wards and the like generally kept it secure, really, just as they had before the wagon was turned into csone animated construct. Albeit occasionaly pests would still try to get into the wooden wagon for his rations or such, and the magical wards and such would of course kill them, but he didn't want to hurt anything innocent. In that vein he'd been up-front with the local cheese-maker of the company to make sure his rats were careful, as he had warded his wagon for very good reasons. The magical bag he had attachedto his left hip currently held much, if not his most precious and dangerous, things. The wagon though? It contained and had a lot of things locked up in there for safety's sake and containment, ranging from harmless supplies to a small hanful of things which had also been repurposed for helping in defending or making the magically-moved wagon by this point in time.

Beginning his walk to the front of the caravan, however, the older man glanced at anyone else along the way who seemed to be heading the same direction as he was or at least looked like they were preparing to. Along the way his nose, however, picked up a familiar and yet pleasant aroma. Ah. He knew whose wagon was coming up along the way. 

[color=B0C4DE]"Good day to you, Gru."[/color]

Knossos gave a polite nod to the peculiar and portly little cheese-maker, whose wagon was pulled by rats. Tight with the money, always a bit of a miser, and yet someone who made rather high-quality product and cared more for his rats than perhaps many would ever take the tie to notice. Had seemed to always peddle his wares and goods, but from what he'd seen and heard nothing bad had come from it all. For one thing, the cheese wasn't turning into a monster and eating people or the sort, nor did it seem to be tainted by dark magic. Hold the traces of it here and there? Yes, he could percieve that much, but a trace of something was definitely still different than being imbued or infused with something. From the start he could feel something lingering on the man and that wagon of his, but had kept his mouth shut and minded his own business to see how Gru would conduct himself in those initial weeks. 

Safe to say, the cheese-maker seemed to be doing that and just that: Making cheese and caring for his rats. And he was glad for it!

In that vein he'd always tried to treat the other man kindly and fairly in turn as well, even purchasing different cheeses here and there at more spread-out times. Not that he was as perhaps prolific a customer as he felt Athulwin was, really, but if the monk was part-rat and loved his cheese then so be it! No judgement there. Meanwhile he only tried to appoach to try particular things at times, maybe look into a particular delicacy he'd been curious about. Maybe offering part of the supplies to try to help the-, oh! 

Knossos took pause for a moment near Gru, turning his head back to him with a small smile on his face. 
 
[color=B0C4DE]"Apologies, but I did want to also tell you I've finally found that bottle of fine but rather rare vintage Ilgirian Coast Red Wine I mentioned that I got back three months ago from one of my more 'affluent' clients. Apparently I kept it in my magical bag at the time, but after digging it out I've put it back in my wagon in its proper storage place. I was still curious if you could infuse it into a fine cheese for me, perhaps?"[/color]

A fine wine-infused cheese. Not something Knossos could at least remember seeing often at all, save for a few choice places in the last few years. He had been curious about it, but blast it all he'd forgotten where the bottle was initially! Still, he hoped it wouldn't be too much of a bother to ask the cheese-maker. He was providing the rare wine for it at least, if nothing else, so maybe it'd help the price a little bit?

Whatever the case, he wanted to check with Gru about the small matter of that before he would finish making his way to where Althuwin and anyone else the man had summoned would likely be.

[@Lugubrious][@Tortoise]