With speech muffled through a mouthful of pork & bone "Sounds fun," I nod. "Perhaps there we might learn yet more of the house's secrets, or something more about the wizard himself."
"The longer we sit idle the quicker more inquisitors will seek us out. Promont is a mysterious place, and I would certainly like to learn more of our home."
"Then let us be off. I believe there is still the matter of visiting the Lady's Lounge for a bit of refreshment and perhaps lending an ear to the idle chatter of the patronage, if the day has not grown too old in our leisure?"
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Stasia winks as you exit her shoppe, turning her attention to the few townsfolk that have gathered to acquire her wares.
The morning fog is lifting, as folk gather around the Merchant Square. Boats roll into the docks from night fishing and already the town is a bustle.
You spy the familiar tavern, and many patrons have already made their way to the Lady's warm embrace this morning.
Ilsa and Bartok follow their new found companions through the busy streets taking in all the sights and sounds of the town. Bartok stays close to her side, on alert for any trouble.
"Just look at all zee people Bartok. Zee town iz not like our home iz eet?"
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Bartok languidly replies as he eyes the passersby,
A few fishermen's eyes bulge as the large feline utters the dark speech of demons, they don't understand the words but obviously aren't accustomed to pets speaking, much less in harsh gutteral tongues.
Leaning close to Bartok's ear Ilsa replies,
"Careful my pet vee do not vant to attract too much attention. Zese people are not used to such creatures I think. I vould not vant our new companions compromised."
Reaching over Ilsa places a calming hand on Bartok's large head.
I move to stride beside Ilsa & Bartok, the last of the pork disappearing down my throat, shooting a fiendishly toothy leering smile at the nearest fisherman before hefting his largest catch on display for sale eight feet into the air to meet my eye, taking a large ravaging bite & tossing a fat coin purse onto the flat bloody surface of his cutting table.
"Worry not so much about what they think, our presence is a boon to them should they accept it and a quick painful end followed by a disgraceful puppet show of their corpses should they not. I've worn plenty a man's face-hide on my hip and shall surely wear more. They will pay in blood should they cross us. Go about your ways as you would sharp cat," my clawed hand stroking Bartok's ear,"and you yours She-conjurer. If we are to inspire fear in our enemies we must be feared by all others first.”