<em>A bedroll? If it’s yours, maybe, or your daughters... </em>Tasaril silently wondered if the priestess of St. Cuthbert had a daughter, but asking would probably get him thrown out, if his experience was anything to go by. “Over 30 people? That smells like a slaving operation... or something worse... maybe a sacrificial cult.”<br/><br/>“I thank you for your hospitality, mylady, though am staying at an inn, so I’ll leave the place for others who might be in need.”<br/><br/>Tasaril stood up, and bowed to Naomi „Tasaril Ignon, travelling bard – male bard – at your service.“ The young man snuck a side glare at Sera.<br/><br/>“While the orphanage might be closed for the night, the fine and not so fine taverns in this city are just picking up business, and wine and beer have loosened many a tongue in the past. I do think it might prove beneficial for our task to spend a few hours talking and listening in a few watering holes, so I’ll do just that. However, since the Last Laugh has some influence, and rather sharp tools, I do not think it would be too wise to visit those places by myself... does anyone else feel the need to go and get a glass of wine or two?”<br/><br/>It wasn't that he was afraid, but getting his shirt - and chest - cut by those ruffians before did put a slight damper on his daring-do impulses... for tonight. After all you could only court Lady Luck so often in a day before she was bound to scoff at you.