The smuggler couldn't help let his grin expand at her embarrassment. "So you can be quite charming, even if by accident," he commented idly in the same way one would remark upon the weather. In response to the message she passed from Daegsatz, he provided a wordless nod of thanks. Satz was a Sea Wolf through and through; one would naturally be hesitant to define "landsickness" as a legitimate feeling, but if one person could suffer from it, it was Satz. Nero made a silent prayer for his friend, knowing how uncomfortable the Roegadyn must be in the gaol.
He trotted along the path Roen had gestured towards in silence before eventually coming upon a surprisingly secluded copse of small trees. Thanalan, the savannah that it was, was not terribly prone to sprouting patches of greenery like this innocent-looking thicket; typically the flora were the massive, thick-trunked trees that usually dotted the landscape or hardy shrubs. As both a secluded meeting place and a possibly romantic picnic, this location was fairly ideal.
From here, the ramshackle little huts and tents that the refugees had constructed were still visible. It was with no small measure of pity that Nero found his gaze drawn to the shanty town. "To have no option but to live such squalor," he remarked more to himself than to Roen, his voice barely above a whisper. Though his trips to Thanalan had become more frequent, the sight didn't become any easier to witness.Â
In a sudden fit of uncharacteristic self-consciousness, Nero gave a brief yet rapid shake of his head, once again replacing his mask of joviality. He wasn't grinning, but his lips were still slightly creased rigidly in an expression of nonchalance. "But I said I had something important to talk to you about, and I do." The Hyur folded his arms. "I ran into some...trouble. With the Brass Blades. They confiscated some goods of mine."
The corner of his mouth scrunched in a manner that suggested he was suppressing a frown. "Ordinarily, I wouldn't come to you about this, for obvious reasons," Nero continued, "except that the supplies in question were for the refugees. Food and medicine, some spare clothing to keep out the night chill, some leathers for them to repair their tents. Essential things. And as luck would have it, the Blades at the gate labelled them as contraband and took them, most likely to sell on their own to the bandits within the city." At the memory that had happened just this morning, the smuggler let loose a sigh before glancing at Roen. His cargo did contain some more clandestine products, but Nero wasn't about to tell her that.
"I'd like to get them back. Failing that, I'd like to take care of these Blades so that I can make shipments without issue. And I've no contacts here willing to cross the Blades for these refugees besides you." It was with equal measures amusement and guilt that Nero noted how easy it was to rope the paladin into his schemes. Her eagerness at such things was almost frightening.
He trotted along the path Roen had gestured towards in silence before eventually coming upon a surprisingly secluded copse of small trees. Thanalan, the savannah that it was, was not terribly prone to sprouting patches of greenery like this innocent-looking thicket; typically the flora were the massive, thick-trunked trees that usually dotted the landscape or hardy shrubs. As both a secluded meeting place and a possibly romantic picnic, this location was fairly ideal.
From here, the ramshackle little huts and tents that the refugees had constructed were still visible. It was with no small measure of pity that Nero found his gaze drawn to the shanty town. "To have no option but to live such squalor," he remarked more to himself than to Roen, his voice barely above a whisper. Though his trips to Thanalan had become more frequent, the sight didn't become any easier to witness.Â
In a sudden fit of uncharacteristic self-consciousness, Nero gave a brief yet rapid shake of his head, once again replacing his mask of joviality. He wasn't grinning, but his lips were still slightly creased rigidly in an expression of nonchalance. "But I said I had something important to talk to you about, and I do." The Hyur folded his arms. "I ran into some...trouble. With the Brass Blades. They confiscated some goods of mine."
The corner of his mouth scrunched in a manner that suggested he was suppressing a frown. "Ordinarily, I wouldn't come to you about this, for obvious reasons," Nero continued, "except that the supplies in question were for the refugees. Food and medicine, some spare clothing to keep out the night chill, some leathers for them to repair their tents. Essential things. And as luck would have it, the Blades at the gate labelled them as contraband and took them, most likely to sell on their own to the bandits within the city." At the memory that had happened just this morning, the smuggler let loose a sigh before glancing at Roen. His cargo did contain some more clandestine products, but Nero wasn't about to tell her that.
"I'd like to get them back. Failing that, I'd like to take care of these Blades so that I can make shipments without issue. And I've no contacts here willing to cross the Blades for these refugees besides you." It was with equal measures amusement and guilt that Nero noted how easy it was to rope the paladin into his schemes. Her eagerness at such things was almost frightening.
