”’Almost as bad,’” Stanrick repeats. ”He probably had many people who wanted him killed. Leaving us with a long list of possible murderers.”
Stanrick nods while appraising Lucia’s talents for disguise. ”I think that will help. Marissa maybe speak with an accent, or another language altogether will help as well.”
The herbalist stops for a moment. ”As I said, I’m familiar with exploring caves, but I’m not an expert. If we do find another entrance into the city it almost has to be better than the jail.”
Garold squirms his way to where he can come up near the river...it seems to take hours, though it's really only minutes... Garold comes up wet and nasty, and heads straight into the river.
Once he's a bit cleaner, he heads for a bridge.
...assuming nothing stops him, of course.
"I've only been here a few days, but I won't leave Alain. If I don't stay here, there must be some way to let him know where I've gone."
"We'll figure it out in safer surroundings." Wendel responds. He thinks on the weapons on his person and feels reluctant to draw any of them, not wanting to fight the guard. "For now, stick close to me in case there are more daggers in the dark waiting for us."
After saying the words, Wendel feels a thrill shoot up his spine. This must be what being a hero feels like... Just like Paolo the Grim!
Garold returns from his search, a look of concern in his eyes.
"Friends... we need to go...NOW... "
Wendel smiles with appreciation for the man's dedication and signals for everyone to get moving. He gesture to Bliznap and says, "You have sought to maintain your place in this city but this course of action threatens your home and livelihood. I'm sorry for this, master gnome. But perhaps if things go well, would not the legend of a heroic bard not garner its own possibilities for your future?" He claps the gnome on the back, the warrior's enthusiasm carrying him to the exit.
"I lead them the other way. Wait 'till clear, then go."
And with that, the misshapen ranger darts off into the night.
"Brave man." Wendel says mostly to himself. The ranger's example serves to quell his own enthusiasm. Garold didn't seek to be a man out of the story books. He only wants to help others who apparently have treated him better than any in his life. The lesson sets a grim cast to Wendel's visage.
He digs into his hip satchel and retrieves his last CLW potion and hands it to Bane. "Take it now, hopefully your wounds will seal so no blood trail is left behind..."
That done, the warrior motions for the girl to stay on his right side so he can keep his shield arm free. Then he signals the others to get a move on as he heads out the back door and angles for the tree line.
Bliznap grumbles, then follows Wendel.
We'll see how far chivalry and heroics gets us.
Isabeau does what she can to help the ruse, even going so far as to rip the dress along it's seams in a few key places. "Do not fret, it can be repaired."
She then does her best to look for a sign of a way they should go. She did not want to return the way they had come... the guard may have succeeded at tracking Marissa, Anton, or even themselves. Perhaps the murderer used these caves as well. The hairs pricked at the back of her neck as she peered into the darkness by the light of Lucia's pebble.
She turns to Stanrick, "We need to get moving, which way do you think we should try?"
”We have two choices don’t we?” Stanrick says, back to the wall, side stepping along the ledge. ”Once we go down this ledge, back to the cavern with the formations of stalactites and stalagmites, we need to make a choice. We can return to the surface backtracking to the chapel and enter the city gates like I planned on doing when I woke up this morning, or we can look for another tunnel in hopes that it enters into a cellar...being on guard for giant centipedes of course.”
At the bottom of the ledge, he attempts to meet each person’s eyes to judge their preferences between his suggestions. ”Personally I think going through the city gate has a simple appeal. I’m not used to situations of murder and even city life. Do you have a place to hide in the city, Marissa? If not, maybe hiding in the cavern is a good idea after all. As you can see, this is perplexing.”
Lucia, unsure of what else she can do simply follows silently with the group. She smiles appreciatively at Isabeau for her help in disguising Marissa as they move back to their previous positions within the moving group. She listens to Stanrick's options and likes the idea of slipping through the front gates. After all who would suspect this small band traveling with a caravan as the whole of the region congregants within the city walls for the wedding. Lucia thought of the other option with distaste, in the event the gate idea would not work, they would have no other choice than to return this way and confront the voice they had left behind. She leans over to Isabeau and whispers silently into her ear.
I think we should at least attempt to go through the gates. Stanrick is right, it may be the best way to prevent an incident. There are hundreds entering the city by the main road. There is a good chance we can use that to our advantage.
The journey back through the cavern is uneventful, and soon enough, you find yourselves back in the ruined chapel. The late afternoon sun slants through the trees as you backtrack along your way to the road, and the sun is low over the horizon as you approach the city gates. The meadows outside the gates are still full of the city's beggars and others forced out of the city to clear room for the Sefeasa's guests. They flock towards you, hands out, begging for coin, for food or drink.
The procurator-guards are not the ones you met this morning, and they seem bored more than anything else as they watch you. One, the leader by virtue of sheer bulk, apparently, swaggers out into the road as you approach.
"Have you brought gifts for the Lady, to commemorate her wedding?" he says, grinning. A massive wagon piled high with tribute stands just outside the gate, with a half dozen men guarding it.
The boatman who ferried them across is long gone. A few minutes later, Garold reappears, dripping wet and out of breath, but unscathed. On the beach, you can see Alain in the distance, rowing hard and just reaching the boathouse on the far bank.
...panting for the moment, Garold works at catching his breath...bridge... we need get to bridge. Garold stops for a moment, wiping brackish water from his prominent brow, and taking a deep breath, before turning to the young lady...keeping eyes lowered.. .Begging pardon...do people...immediately...know you...on sight? We need take you...to safe house, I think.
Garold wracks his brain to come up with the best safe house...his own hole being utterly unsuitable for a lady.
Underground/City Gates
Isabeau nodded eagerly at Lucia's whispered suggestion, shivering slightly from the proximity. Even when only breath carried her words, there was still an echoing hiss... as if the words were physical things that cast their own shadow pulled along behind them. "If you think so, my lady, it must be the right course."
As they approach the gates, she fusses over Lucia, helping her to secure her disguise as well. Her first sight of the poor and downtrodden cast out of the city like trash stabs at her sympathetic heart like a dagger of ice.
When the guard asks about a wedding gift, she responds with genuine surprise. "Oh... I'm so sorry, I hadn't brought anything along for fear it might be stolen during the journey. Would it be possible to purchase something here in your beautiful city? Or perhaps the lady would not be offended by a gift of gold? We could perhaps shop after we met with our business contact, Dilisnya." She smiles congenially and tries to stay composed as she awaits the guards response.
Standing with the group, "She is to stubborn to leave, and apparently we can't fufill our quest, is it not best to just leave her? Why give chase to the lordling, he is doomed and we will be killed for disobeing the Dark Lady. We must flee or strike first. These are the options I see open to us."
He looks questioningly at his new friends.
And here we are again. At the front gates. Guards blocking the way. Paupers everywhere.
Lucia moves toward a second guard producing once more the writ of passage for the priests and priestesses of Ezra. Knowing that it would probably only permit herself, it was the best she could do with the lack of a gift for the wedding. She will gesture to the caravan anyway in an attempt to get them all in on her single writ.
"Well done." Wendel says to Garold first.
"She is to stubborn to leave, and apparently we can't fulfill our quest, is it not best to just leave her? Why give chase to the lordling? He is doomed and we will be killed for disobeying the Dark Lady. We must flee or strike first. These are the options I see open to us."
"First things first," he inclines his head towards the ranger. "Harold, lead the way to the bridge. If you know of a place to hide, good. If not, we work our way through the city and find a place."
"Bane, you make a good point. I'm inclined to help the lady here, but if your search is to distance yourself from this mess, it's understandable. However, she is willing to aid you in that search of yours." He considers his words for a moment. "I'm looking for someone too, but somehow I think the trade off for acquiring information from the Dark Lady would cost more than I'm willing to pay."
"But it doesn't mean I'll plunge ahead blindly. Once we go to ground, I've got some questions for you." He says the last to the girl. "For instance, has Baton told you why he's still willing to go through with this marriage if it means his certain death?"
Garold looks at one new friend, then the other, always keeping his eyes downcast.
...speaking very softly...Garold never...umm... well...this feels important... more important than anything Garold ever done. Don't know...nothing really makes sense...but why lady should die? So...wrong.
Garold turns and shuffles toward the bridge.
If we are going to be ruining my reputation in the city by keeping her safe, we are going to be keeping her with us. Otherwise you may each go along your way and I will fulfill our request.
Stanrick drops to one knee, swinging his backpack free to land before him. He opens it and brings forth five muslin bundles about sixteen inches long and five inches wide. All have a card attached with string with fine writing on it.
”A gift? These are for her majesty. Two freestone and three clingstone peach trees. These are not ordinary peaches, mind! Yes, the air will be perfumed by their flowers. Yes, the fruit will taste sweet and succulent. All that is true. These however are all rare. One has white skin that practically glows at night. One gives vivid dreams, some say glimpses of the future. Depending on when this one’s fruits are eaten, the taste changes as if mixed with other fruits, like apple, strawberry, and pear. Now this one is rumored to bequeath great fecundity. Finally, this one has a pit that when ground makes a beautiful purple dye. You see that woman’s red cloak? Notice the brightness of the color? The durability if you will? It was dyed from a similar peach. Will these suffice for our entry?”
A few steps away from the guards, Marissa turns to Stanrick. She undoes a small pin from her own collar and pins it to the inside of his cloak, and then passes hit back to him.
"Show this to the barman at the Thorn of the Rose," she says. "He will arrange accommodations for you. I wish that I could do more to thank you, but I fear what will happen if I am discovered."
There are several inns and taverns in the city that won't have rooms. However, hundreds if not thousands of beggars and laborers were turned out of the city to make their homes available to the Dark Lady's wedding guests. These rooms are being brokered by the innkeepers. The nearest of these would be the Thorn of the Rose, just across the bridge.
I know a safe place...but...umm... it's not...nice.
Garold looks even smaller, shoulders dropping farther than most men could, as he shuffles toward the bridge.
At the Gates
”Thorn of the Rose,” Stanrick says committing the name to memory. ”I may accept your offer. Master Volfill may have found a room for the two of us. We really didn’t do much to help you. Good luck to you.”
He turns to the others. ”Do you three have a place to stay? I’ll meet you at the Thorn of the Rose. Either with Volfill or with word of where we’ll be staying.” He fingers the pin on the inside of his cloak.
Wendel rests a hand on the ranger's misshapen shoulder, smiling sincerely. "I trust you, Garold. But what manner of place is it?"
Wont be many places in the city that still has room. My house and anywhere we frequent would be the first place the Lady would look. From here I recommend we head to a local place. Once we cross the bridge, follow me.
Garold toward Wendel, but keeps his eyes lowered. There are places...beneath the city...as big as the royal guard's barracks. In the...the...sewers.
Sergei shook his head. "We're new here too. The Thorn of the Rose sounds as good a place as any."
I will have to meet you there later. I actually DO have business here and I need to check into the church before I do anything else. I will see you all in a few hours in the Thorn of the Rose. We will need to designate an area as... Well... As I would rather refrain from speaking to any others as much as possible. I vote one of you maybe wait at a table close to the entrance in about two or three hours so I may find you all again with no problems. If I am delayed, I will send someone to inform you all.
With that, she turns and moves quickly to the church, wanting to finish up her work as quickly as possible and return to her new friends.
As they move towards the bridge, Wendel considers the options. On one hand, he feels a bit of affinity towards the hunchbacked ranger, and with that the honesty in the man's eyes. At the least, the probable years of mental and physical torture Garold had to have endured his whole life had not ground out his honesty. Deep within his chest, Wendel felt a twinge of shame remembering the times he'd joined in with his older brother Walder on his escapades to make the lives of their servants a living hell.
Then there was the offer from Bliznap to find lodging in a local establishment. Add to that the less than enthusiastic response from the bard regarding Wendel's deviation from the original plan. The warrior understood the risk the gnome faced in not following the Dark Lady's instructions. He faced more than just losing his standing when it came to retribution.
So which would it be? Talking Baton's mistress into going into the sewers where Wendel thought it would be safer? Or go with the gnome and risk a potential betrayal?
"Which will it be then, Lady?" The warrior inquires of his new charge. "I will abide your decision, but I think it might be safer following Garold."
The sewers are ugly.. .and stink...but the pretty people don't go there.
"I do not trust these little people," she says, "but I cannot truly consider spending the night in a sewer. If there is no other choice, we will follow the gnome, but please, good sir, may I count on your protection?"
As you enter, an acolyte approaches, a young boy in a white robe who gapes at you, a bit awed by your beauty.
Bliznap gives the woman a dirty look.
"I do not trust these little people, but I cannot truly consider spending the night in a sewer. If there is no other choice, we will follow the gnome, but please, good sir, may I count on your protection?"
Wendel frowns down at the diminutive woman. "I will do what I can to keep you safe, assuming there is no...lies in your story. I and my comrades have put much at risk in order to do what is right. That includes the minstrel here."
"Master Bard, please lead us to this establishment you have in mind."
Then back to the girl. "What is your name?"
It's nicer place... maybe safe... try and make it safe.
Garold heads off toward the bridge yet again...ruminating over all the problems he's expecting...knowing the Dark Lady's reach to be extensive.
"The inn it is then." Bane says, walking towards the bridge. "We can decide the best next course of action there."
Bliznap looks at everyone and then exclaims with sarcastic enthusiasm:
Fantastic!
Just in case it comes down to it, Garold makes a mental map...the quickest route from the inn to a safe sewer entrance.
Stanrick is surprised his memories of the place don’t match the reality of the city as he walks to the Luna Truffle. Levkarest is dirtier and smellier than he remembers. He wonders briefly if anyone will recognize him and can’t help feeling a thrill at that prospect of seeing someone; that sharp moment of recognition that passes between people. He searches faces more than he needs too.
People are excited about the wedding and festivities, but many have an air of forced merriment. Some bump into him, getting out of the way of others. He whistles snippets of bird calls as he passes people and stores. Keeping an eye out for pickpockets, Stanrick walks swiftly down the street.
Volfill hasn’t left word for him there. He asks the owner, after giving her a silver coin, to pass along a message should he arrive. An adventure has found me, he writes in Mordentish. Look for me at the Thorn of the Rose. If you don’t find me, I’ll look for you in the woods along the river’s bank.
Still whistling he crosses a bridge and searches for Volfill in the woods. The trees feel sad behind city walls. Stanrick knows they miss the unrestrained wind. After a bit of time he realizes he must get to the Thorn of the Rose if he is to meet his new companions.
Recrossing the bridge he starts to sing to himself, a conversation between birds complete with verses in wordless trills and chirping. Stares, shrugs, and shaking heads follow in his wake as he strides across the cobblestones to the inn.
Lucia makes her way back to the Thorn of the Rose in hopes that her new friends are there waiting for her. New friends. That was a strange thought and feeling. Who would have ever thought that an outcast like Lucia could even MAKE friends. Well, Isabeau was her friend anyway. The though of Isabeau brought back some disturbing thoughts though. The way Isabeau looked at her was a bit disturbing. It was almost as if Isabeau wanted to devour her. Lucia shook the thought from her mind. Isabeau was fine. Maybe that is how friends usually act. How they usually look at one another. Stanrick seemed nice enough too. He looked at her much more cordially. The verdict was still out on Sergei though. He scared her a bit. She could still feel the occasional glare bore into her back as they were moving through the gates. Fear causes people to do cruel and painful things sometimes, and Sergei defiantly had that fear in his eyes. Her mind wandered on like this for a while until she realized she was just outside the Inn. While she did not need to stay here, she had never been inside an inn let alone stayed in one. There tended to be too many people around these establishments for her to be comfortable. She took a deep breath to settle her nerves and moved in through the doors looking for Isabeau, Stanrick, or Sergei.
Lucia moves in through the great double doors she smiles warmly at the boy. She pulls out the writ and unfolds it beckoning him closer. When he approaches, she stands next to him to show him the writ, then points at her mentors name twice. Waiting for him to look up at her, she smiles again and nods reassuring him that she would like him to either lead her or fetch him FOR her.
The Thorn of the Rose is a sprawling tavern, with a large common room spread out between two enormous fireplaces, and a half dozen long tables where people drink and eat. Every few feet along the table is a bouquet of roses in a simple pitcher. The specialty of the house is a mushroom stew with rare beef and a thick dark gravy, and ale served in wooden mugs. The tables are crowded and the noise of conversation is loud and strangely cheerful. A few smaller rooms branch off to the side, offering a bit more privacy, and at the back of the common room is a long bar.
Behind the bar a door leads back to the kitchen, and every so often a weary looking man bursts through the door and sets a stack of dishes out on the bar, which are whisked away to the patrons. The woman tending the bar hardly seems to move, yet glasses are filled, orders are taken and nothing seems to escape her notice. It is not magic, but simply an economy of movement learned by years of practice.
She is scarcely five feet tall and stout, grey-haired with deep lines in her face, and she watches you enter with an appraising eye for a heartbeat or two, before her attention returns to the business at hand.
"He'll want to meet with you tonight," the boy says.
Bliznap looks at his companions.
Let's take a seat and discuss our next move.
"Let's take a seat and discuss our next move."
Wendel nods, scanning the crowded common room for potential threats...
...oh, my...The warrior's 'good' sense tells him to be wary of all in the establishment. Especially the all too watchful woman behind the bar.
"Stay close to me," he speaks into his charge's ear, again putting her on his right and slightly behind so his shield is free to move. Wendel straightens his back so he stands at his full height, projecting outward that he won't tolerate someone getting in the way of their progress.
...stand aside...
"Head to one of the private rooms?" Wendel asks the group.
Harold first scans the room, then turns to Wendel and nods.
Upon entering The Thorn of the Rose, Bane stands aside of the door letting his eyes adjust to the low light of the inn as his companions move towards one of the private rooms. Scanning the room he follows his black and red cloak swirling around his knees.
Isabeau felt a tightness in her chest as Lucia twirled and quickly departed her company. Her hand reached for her, reflexively, but any words to request that she come along caught in her throat. She didn't understand these strange feelings, she felt pulled in two directions. Part of her wanted to never open her eyes and not have them fall on the glorious creature who now slipped away through the crowd. She stood and watched her until she could catch no glimpse of her beauty with a pained look on her face. Once she had truly gone behind Isabeau's sight, a strange sensation swept over her... it took her a moment to realize it was relief.
Relief from fear washed over her, slowing her racing heart and returning to her some of her usual calm and rational manner. She thought again of the murder and sensing that Marissa meant to leave them now that she had returned to the city, she turned her fiercely blue eyes to the streets around them looking for anyone who seemed overly interested in their party. Once satisfied no one was listening, she moved to Marissa's side and clasped her hand in a show of concern and spoke quickly in a low voice.
"I understand your desire to be on your way, but I have a few questions. Are you quite sure your 'Anton' is not responsible for Zari's current condition? You indicated the tryst must be kept secret, perhaps Zari had found out and had to be dealt with? I heard that Anton was not pleased to discover we had followed you... If his affection for you has ended, you may be in danger from him too." Isabeau held the woman's gaze with her own, serious and unblinking as she watched for the womans emotions to reveal themselves as she answered, played out upon her features, movements and tone of voice.
By the time Stanrick arrives at the Thorn of the Rose, he sees Isabeau and Sergei sitting at a table. She appears to be closely attending the door. The young herbalist’s eyes scans the crowd for any other faces. He half expects to see a musician or someone from his youth. When noticing the barwoman he blinks in surprise. Marissa said ‘barman’, he thought.
Like a young wolf playing in a meadow he moves through the crowd to Isabeau’s table. ”Imagine meeting you here,” he says. ”Mind if I sit down?”
He motions with his head towards the bar. ”What do you make of her? Our mutual friend said a barman would help us. Should I show her the pin?”
Marissa looks troubled by your questions, scowling and then hesitantly admitting. "It's possible. I was asleep, and he could have left, but I don't see how he could have killed Zari and brought him there and hung him up. He was only angry with me because he thought you were the guard. If his father found out about us, there's no telling what he'd do."
Garold stops for a moment, then shakes his head and turns away back toward the private room, but his brow is furrowed, and he mumbles to himself...face familiar...huh...ummm...no, no.
Lucia smiled angelically to the kind young man and bowed ever so slightly. She placed her hand over her mouth and arched it down in a 90 degree angle, palm facing up. It was her customary gesture of thanks to the boy for his assistance. She then looked toward the podium at her mentor waiting for him to make eye contact as he swept his gaze over the crowd during his sermon. As their eyes met for a small moment, she smiled at him and bowed in acknowledgement that she had recieved his message. His eyes did not linger as he continued to preach to the assembled, and Lucia spun on her heels and promptly exited the church.
Her time at the church ended far more abruptly than she had expected. She moved through the city back toward the inn winding in and out of crowds but never allowing her self to get too close to touch any of them. Luckily for her, the robes she wore tended to offer quite a wide birth from the more common folk of the city. She had to be more wary of the large amount of visitors more than anything else. Luckily, she made it to the "Thorn of the Rose" without incident. She was a bit perplexed to notice Marissa and Isabeau still outside conversing upon her return to the inn. Not wanting to disturb their conversation too much, Lucia simply walked past the two and paused only long enough for Isabeau to notice her before making her way into the establishment.
As Lucia approaches the front doors, she pauses as she notices a group of men entering just before her. An imposing figure stands next to the door as a gnome, a hunched figure, and man in impressively shiny armor move in past him. Her eyes furrow as she noticed the hunched man. The rat catcher? She had never known him to travel with companions, let alone enter a place filled with people. She had never met the man formally, but she had seen him on more than one occasion during her visits to the city for church business. This was an odd sight that made her a bit uncomfortable. She shifts slightly, straightening her clothing, a feeling of being exposed at the strange situation washes over her.
She waits a moment for the group to enter fully before following them in. Upon entry, she pauses and looks around to try and catch a glimpse of her friends. She notices Stanrick just taking a seat next to Sergei at a far table and makes her way quickly to them. She gently raps on the table to get their attention and gestures to a seat. Before waiting for permission, she slides the seat out and sits down glancing around her immediate area to make sure she won't accidentally bump into anyone. Confident that her position at the table was good, she then turns her attention to the other two and smiles kindly to them.
”Lady,” Stanrick says with a bow of his head as Lucia taps at the table and sits. ”It’s good that we are all here now. That’s the woman Marissa mentioned. What may I order for you?” his gaze takes them all in turn.
As they give their replies, he presses his thumb and fingers together like he’s counting. ”Excellent.” He takes the pin from his cloak and covertly drops it in his coin pouch.
Checking for a lull in the customers, he approaches the woman serving drinks behind the bar. ”Good day!” he beams leaning in towards the woman. ”Do you have any mead made with honey from the wildflower covered hills of Borca? If not an ale will suffice.” He places the orders for his companions as well. ”How much do I owe you?”
As he counts out his coins, he places the pin on the bar and whispers, ”I was told to show this to you by a woman we’re trying to help.”
"Thank you for being honest, not only with me but yourself as well. I know from experience how difficult it is to accept that someone you care for might be capable of terrible things." She smiled sympathetically and squeezed her hand to offer support. "For what it's worth, I doubt it was your Anton, but he may have seen or heard something important. Did he say to you why he had left you alone to wake and discover that terrible scene by yourself?" <insert reply>
"I understand your desire to protect his identity, but I can't leave any lead unexplored. I kept my promise to you to be discreet and I will continue to do so, but I really must speak with him. Please, tell me how I can find him." <insert reply>
"About the victim... Do you know the man? You said he was some sort of spymaster? If that's so I will have to proceed very carefully. Do you know of any people connected to him? Also, did he have a more mundane business? It looked as if he might be a member of a prominent merchant family, perhaps he traded some sort of wares I could inquire about."
"And finally, how may I contact you again if I have need to?" <insert reply>
She'll make some sort of contact agreement with Marissa, possibly arranging to leave notes with the barwoman at The Thorn of the Rose. Then wish her well and move on to the Inn.
Visual reference for Isabeau's face, ignore the fancy dress.
Isabeau stepped through the door of The Thorn of the Rose Inn, her strikingly blue eyes surveying the patrons anxiously. She was tall, especially for a young woman, and the milky color of her skin seemed to glow against the black backdrop of her hair and cloak. She had seen Lucia briefly as she exited the church and proceeded on and now she found her pulse racing again as she searched for her achingly beautiful face. Her heart leaped in her chest as she spotted her and again she felt pulled in opposite directions as she approached her new and strange friend... 'goddess' her thoughts corrected themselves.
'Look at her, how could she be anything but...' The world seemed to shift toward unreality again as her feet closed the distance and took her seat next to Lucia and the others. She looks a bit dazzled again as she leans toward Lucia to hear her whispered drink order and then asks Stanrick for a pitcher of the stuff.
On the way to the private room Bane was stopped dead in his tracks, he stared as if faced with an apparation. A raven haired beauty entered, wearing a dark cloak, she like him, had black hair and blue eyes, and was the splitting image of Almaade, his wife, dead at his hands. "My sins follow me, as I walk one boot at a time to my grave." he muttered under his breath after stareing at her for a time. Joining his friends, he couldn't help but laugh, the irony of it all, his mirthful chuckle became a disturbing cackle. He quited himself as he sat with his group, folding his arms in an angry depressed silence, thunderheads darkly storming in his eyes.