Voloke examined a pair of the 'boots' that he was going to have to wear, and then looked down at the thick leather boots he was currently wearing. He raised an eyebrow as the others in the room put theirs on straight away, and they shrank to the appropriate size. The Tiefling said something in a language that... well, Voloke wasn't sure it was even a language. It just sounded nasty and unpleasant. Not in the same guttural way that orcish sounded either. It was elegant... but just flat unpleasant. He shook his head a bit and put the newly borrowed footwear into his backpack. "I think I'll save the thrill of the magical sewer boots for when they are needed," he said, as much to himself as to anyone else who heard. He slung his backpack onto his shoulder again, and then stood up, looking around the room.<br/><br/>"The Following Winds, then?" Voloked asked, looking at Wren, then at the others around the room. "I haven't much in the way of contacts," he began, lifting his greatsword easily in his right hand and returning it to the sheathe that hung from his back. "So I'll probably just head there now, unless anyone thinks we'll be spending enough time in the sewers that we'll need food and water?"