[center][b][color=slategray][h3]Athulwin[/h3][/color][/b]
Addressing: [@Smike][@Crusader Lord][@Enigmatik]
[/center]

Athulwin nods at the gnoll's bow- but holds up a hand when she speaks. "[color=slategray]There's no need to fetch me anything. For one who travels as much as I do, I travel much too little. I'll be going into the city myself. I should stretch my old legs. But- thank you for offering.[/color]" It's fascinating. For as much as their reputation speaks of evil and bloody fangs and death, Athulwin's experience with Scrapblast has her painted as a respectful and dutiful member of the Caravan. Sometimes he wishes more of them were like her. He would perhaps make more conversation with her, but the Navigator thinks he sees something moving out of the corner of his eye. Something colorful and jovial popping out against the monotonous gold-brown shades of the desert. He half-turns for a better look at it, and-

-it's a floating mask.

An actual floating mask, or a spirit that appears like one. As it comes closer, he can see that it has a ridiculous, exaggerated kind of face and a feather crown of many colors permanently attached. He can also see that- oh, by Eld Frowen, why?- it is coming directly for him. Flying over the Dinnin's sands in search of the Navigator.

Sometimes, Athulwin believes he's being punished. That perhaps the Curse laid on him by Alder was of a deeper, stronger kind than he ever knew. Because it seems that whenever he tries to rest for a moment or two longer than he might deserve, something bizarre and magical happens that immediately commands all of his attention- and forces him to interact with it. Not long ago, a woman fell from the sky. She had been riding inside of a star. Today, he is pestered by a parade of mystical messengers.

The mask approaches him, hovers comically over the ground and has the aura of wind about it. It relays a message from Knossos. It calls Athulwin- again, by Eld Frowen, why?- '[color=lime]De Grumpy Boi[/color].' Athulwin does not question this. It has a rare accent. Athulwin also does not question this. He thanks it, and it flies away, saying something about how it was going to have a look around the Caravan for a while. He sighs deeply. He sighs very deeply.

"[color=slategray]My apologies, erm, Scrapblast. Malleck. Hazards of being the Navigator. One day the reaper will finally come for me, and it will turn out to have been a messenger from Knossos all along.[/color]"