Nothing was said by the rough and tumbled rogue, as he set his ward, the priestess, upon the offered blankets. Once she was rested properly, though he did not dare remove the cloak from atop her, he stepped away, climbing onto a nearby tree stump in a way that was equal parts practiced ease, spider like creeping, and general lazyness. Sitting almost as a troll would, with nothing but his leatherclad knees protruding from his many cloaks, head bowed, shielding the glow of his eyes from the others... Gaze secretly intent upon the priestess... Watching like a vultor...<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>