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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Sparky" data-source="post: 2497219" data-attributes="member: 13681">Oliver had expected a royal reception amongst the elves. He was disappointed. Shunted off as no more than a commoner, instead of the widower of Tiamen’s cousin. Bleak thoughts about his dead wife flutter at the corners of his mind and the old man lapses into a quiet, irritable fugue. Partly from hunger, partly because he doesn’t dare to deal with the suspicions that tug threads from tapestry of his memory.Some morning, rising earlier than the rest, except perhaps Raven, Xiao finds a flat silver flute about two or three fingers wide and as long as a hand. It is engraved with an abstract symbol and words written in a strange script. Later in the day Tatlock translates, reciting by rote, “A friend shares meals, memories and misery.” He looks sheepishly at the grizzled old man and back at Xiao.The fugue recedes the further and further elven lands fall behind, and by the time the raggedy bunch has reached the bastion of civilization that is Despia he has resumed a more pleasant cantankerous grumpiness. His sharp eyes dart around the city, taking in the oddities of population and the military readiness of the folk. A stout people. “Eh?” asks Raven. “Did I say that out loud?” He purses his lips angrily and stumbles. Raven catches the old man's arm. Getting old. Can’t keep my thoughts to myself. Can't walk. Next I'll be needing someone to chew my food. He settles his belt pouch rather more vigorously than is strictly necessary and nods a not-quite-thanks to Raven.He resumes his survey of the town. Despia… Despia… He casts his thoughts back…OOC: INT check 18+4 (+1 in most knowledges) = 22 or 23SPOT check 11+3+8 = 22</blockquote>

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