As the elf floats into the lodge it darkens considerably until he closes the top of a pouch at his belt, after which the lighting conditions return to normal. The unconsciously gibbering captain, wearing a metal torture device attached to his head does not elicit an eyebrow raise from the man who suddenly found himself in a relatively small space with a bevy of lovely ladies and a walking coat-rack. "Well it seems you've accessed everything the puppet has careening around in his unfortunately shiny head, so its only a matter of sifting through its contents at this point then?"
The scroll, as the other focal point of the lodge, has already been subjected to every form of spell identification, so Hanshu splits his attention between both conversations. "Unfortunately my own magical expertise does not extend beyond weapon and armor enchantments, though I believe it is a bit more thorough than a spell. Decades of study has some advantages at least." A pair of red prisms orbit his head silently, glinting in the red lenses of his spectacles as they pass above his line of sight, in a very calming rhythm.
