He frowned and headed to the second caravan leader, intent on joining it. Ten minutes later, he left the building, not part of the caravan, and cursing softly under his breath as he headed back to the small inn to get his possessions. He fumed quietly, but moved quickly, the meeting had been a total disaster at best, but if he hurried, he might not get a guard unit after him. He got his bag of holding, his armor and weapons already with him, and then left, heading out of town. He was, once again, making a bad decisions, but only cause the others were worse. He knew a wolf pack could kill him if he wasn't careful, but he needed his poison ingredients, otherwise he wasn't going to be able to take as many contracts when he got back to real civilization.<br/><br/>(diplomancy (caravan master) d20+0 [nat 1])