A bleachling gnome in a slapdash set of jury-rigged freebooter armor walks into the room and gives a cross look at the plant in the corner. "Stop that," he says crossly, "what a terrible sound. Venture-cap - er, sorry, old habits. Ablenaffener Whiffletree, I'll be handling chronicling," he says, holding up a datapad and stylus to the others.