Yak Dung

(Crossing, Zoluren: 136 Shorka 359)

"Oh the stench! Baresh! It offended the nostrils until eyes began to water."

Fae slapped down a crimson backsheath in front of a halfling at the bar. Nodding, he held up a hand before the fuzzy-toed one could say anything, so that he might finish delivering this bit of news to the barkeep.

"There were nine caravans in front of the bank of Crossing Baresh. Nine! Some had steel wheels, some were weathered, and some were just plain rickety."

"The yak dung alone was … a scent for sore noses."

He nods to the impatient halfling, raising a brow to keep the fidgeting midget quiet. "The traders were chanting and reciting … and .. I hesitate to tell you this, but even singing … much worse than my own catterwailing, I can tell +you+!."

Fae lifts both furred hands to cover his tufted ears with a mock grimace. "Anyway … it seems these merchanters were protesting something. Had to do with the little metal pieces, marsh chestnuts, mutton tallow and grappling hooks."

One eyebrow lifted curiously as if asking Baresh what those things could possibly have in common. "Many of those who seem to frequent the front step of the bank were complaining that a priest had cast something called — sanctuary?" He looks at the barkeep quizically. "Apparently some would be pick-pockets weren’t too happy with that."

Nodding his head to Baresh, as if signaling the end of his information he swivels back to the halfling dangling his legs from the barstool. "I found that with the tablet that I think leads to the dra…."