Shadow of Hope X
Not that Kurn expected anything would surprise Erellia, he looked to the Elven woman for her reaction to the arrival of the man that had just added his mount to the others and now approached the quick camp. No weapons, simple ornamentation, robes and small fineries. A mage then, or a priest of an order Kurn could not place by token. The half-smile was genuine enough to prompt a nod of greeting from Kurn. Words would certainly be exchanged soon enough.
The lizardman took up a patient vigil at the periphery of the tent, albeit safely clear of the deluge, as the tea brewed and the late arrivals filtered in. He joined some of the rest in drying off through minor magic, invoked by little more than a couple of whispered syllables and a few quick pats of one hand across his scaled person.
If ever he’d met a company that better defined the term ‘strong silent types’, he was at a complete loss to recall such. Perhaps the custom was of a southerly origin unfamiliar to him, but however much they were pretending otherwise, the majority of them seemed to be studiously engaged in such wary watchfulness. Did they expect the the northern war to erupt in their midst at any moment?
With a slight nod Borlak takes a cup of the tea, saying, “My thanks. A warm cup is good on such a day.”
“It is agreed,” the lizardman affirmed, stepping forward to take up one of the cups in turn. A slight hesitation, a subtle sniff as he raised it to his lips. “Cinnamon, I think?” Despite the odd inflection of his voice, the tone was approving. He backed up a few steps to clear the way toward the libation, careful to ensure his sizable frame did not bump into anyone approaching.
“You were met by Erellia in Sagassport as well?” he asked Borlak, “Not home to you, I think, but where your travels had taken you?”