“Oh yes. The poor Priestess Jusi, gutted in her own chambers, like a fish,” as you move to cover your naked form, he casually flicks his arm, sending the bloody knife spinning through the air. The blade misses you, but its lands on your bed and leads a trail of blood specks in its wake, several of which land on your white gown.  “They will all think it was you. You should probably run before anyone wakes up and discovers her corpse. See if you can get the Manor on Old Moor road, preferable within 3 days. It’s to the south east of here; a single lantern will mark it. Inside is my master, they wish to speak with you. If I understand everything there will also be another one there. Frail sort, but strong in faith, with white hair,”<br/><br/>The man cocks his head to the side. Up close and with your eyes adapted to the dark, you are able to make out some further details of his features, but all you can tell for sure is that he is unremarkable, the kind of face one would forget about in a heartbeat. “But I am not so cruel as to leave you on the rune with nothing but those wisps of a garment,” he steps forwards and grips your wrist, firmly turning it up and using his thumb to pry your palm open, into which he then deposits a silken cloth. Its surface is embroidered roughly and in the pale moonlight you can make about eight separate patterns, some of which begin to take shape in your eyes: a roll of leather, a rowing boat, a mirror.<br/><br/>With his message and item delivered, the stranger turns to leave without further comment.