Eventually, Cuan came to find more familiar halls. Once more well-travelled, ones known to the average castle-worker. Ones that a naked wolf would be rather out of place in, especially since anyone would recognize that wolf to be the smith.<br/><br/>Which was precisely why Cuan found himself standing over an unconscious monk. The long brown robe of the holy man had seemed like a good disguise, and smithing left Cuan rather strong arms. It had been easy to knock the man out before he noticed him.<br/><br/>"Sorry, 'Brother'," he muttered, patting the man's bald spot before robbing him of his robe and throwing it around himself, pulling the hood down to cover his face. "Hm..."<br/><br/>Cuan took a minute to stuff the poor man into a closet and prop up an emptied wine bottle - someone on staff must've been taking liberties with stock - next to him. A drunken holyman in a closet, seemed ridiculous enough that he was without robe would, in context, make total sense.<br/><br/>Cuan shrugged, closing the door. It'd buy him enough time to get the hell out of the castle, hopefully. He kept his pace casual and his expression solemn as befitting a monk, heading for doors leading out of the castle...