Perhaps the people Mircalla had made friends with were not as refined as he had hoped. He had made zombies that were more graceful and intelligent then Layla. Momo came off as a hyperactive spoiled child in a woman's body. Bael had at first seemed like a gentleman, but then he started giggling like a fool the moment he touched Momo. He wondered if the sleeping gnome had any more redeeming qualities.<br/><br/>Mircalla sipped another small mouthful of the wine in his glass. It was a great wine, and yet to him it just tasted like vinegar. He put the glass back on the table, having barley touched it and ate nothing. Human food was disgusting, all of it was already dead. What was an appatizing feast to the others was, to him, a collection of fetid rot.<br/><br/>One of the twins examined the cursed ioun stone to see if it was still magical. His counterpart giggled playfully and bit at his ear. Mircalla did not want to interrupt them, but his instinct told him that they might be traveling soon and Jerion's magic functioned vastly different then most. "Jerion my dear. Even if we do not find a place among these people, we will find reason to leave soon. The precious darkwood chest must be made easy to transport, and we need security when we rest. Go and forge whatever tools will allow you to provide for us.."  Jerion had been wanting to celebrate with the others, but he differed to Mircalla's judgement and returned to the rooms they had rented to assemble new temporary magic creations.<br/><br/>If Bael had doubted that the Red Widow, Carpathian, was more then a common spider, his doubts would have been pushed aside when the spider whispered inside Bael's head. Tantalizing him with it's thoughts.<br/><br/>"Layla, are you speaking with someone? Have them introduce themselves."<br/><br/>