Razmus took time to look between the small group gathering around the table. They were an odd bunch. There was no getting around that. However, that was precisely the issue. Something had to link them together for this...condition to happen to all of them. The woman had said that they had entered together. From what he heard, it had sounded like they had been friends, talking and drinking. He shook his head. It didn't make any sense.<br/><br/>Razmus was a bit excited to see that there was a map of the area. Finally, they could get an idea of where they were. He leaned over to inspect it. His face quickly fell. Penny was right. This clearly isn't Lenovia. He needed a smoke but he wasn't sure how well that would be received. He watched Squeaks zip around and it gave him a bit of amusement. He scanned the edges of the map for any sign of familar lands or features. There just weren't any.<br/><br/><span style="color: #008000">Flora appeared, dispersing food and drink again.</span><br/><br/>Razmus looked down at his food glumly. This was ok for human food. He frowned as he picked some up with his spoon before dribbling it back into the bowl. It was not Dwarven cooking though. More importantly, it wasn't Mama's cooking. Mama was the best Dwarven chef in the world. No, literally. She was the Royal Chief Extraordinaire. She had won five royally sponsored cooking competitions. The were Dwarves from all over the country there. Her recipes and her abilities were considered a royal resource. She wasn't allowed to cook for anyone other than the royal family or her own without express consist from the crown. Often, her cooking was used in diplomatic envoys much like any other gift an aristocrat would offer to his peers. Now he may never have Mama's barroot bread again. Razmus suddenly didn't have an appetite. He pushed his bowl away.<br/><br/>Razmus shook his head. This was no time for getting depressed. There was a mystery to be solved. He racked his brain. The last thing he knew he was carting furs and hides from Sudbury to Digh Kalduhr. The spring hunts had gone well and they were needed up north before it was too late to work them into winter clothes. His brow furrowed. That reminded him. Where are his mules, men and carts? He scratched his head.<br/><br/>"Hey there! Innkeep! I didn't happen to say anything about my load, did I?"<br/><br/><span style="color: #008000">Raff shook his head. "Not a word."</span><br/><br/>Razmus huffed and his brow wrinkled with frustrations and confusion. Well, that wasn't like him at all! Plus, his men would have been inn patrons, too. He didn't leave his men out in the cold like some traders did. This just keeps getting weirder.<br/><br/>"Well, folks. We have a mystery on our hands."