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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Unsung" data-source="post: 6589141" data-attributes="member: 6781406">Barstle cracks a slightly apologetic-looking grin. "Not that kind of place, lad, not necessary. I'll tell you whatever I can, but-- tell you the truth, I don't know anyone who went *to* there, to be fair. Not with any certainty. All the ones I've met came *from* this, er, Mystara of yours. Don't know for sure about any of the ones that got back, do I, since they're back, and not among my regulars any more."He scratches his chin and looks up into the rafters. "There was a dwarf once. I think his name was...Karameikos. No, tell a lie, that was the place where he came through from, actually. Didn't end up in Sigil at first, though. Got stuck in Limbo a while, 'fore an anarch fished him out and nursed him back to a measure of health and stability. Didn't do much for his temperament, or so I would have to suppose."At some point during the half-elf's ramblings, the hand drifts over-- a white glove, floating in midair. It seems to have slipped in through the door, with a few more of the evening's drinkers. "Haven't seen him in a few years. Think he took work in a forge someplace in the Guildhall Ward," Barstle muses, and turns back to his casks with a pair of tankards for the new arrivals. The empty glove seems to be trying to attract the barman's attention, without much luck.</blockquote>