Waste not, want not, was what Gwigwyn always said. And true to form, the old sorcerer never wasted a drop. But where the consumption of spirits was concerned, he was uncommonly efficient-He had plenty of practice. No sooner did the tigron introduce himself, than Gwigwyn finished off his mead in one swallow, adjusted his brightly colored beret on his bald spot and stood with a goodly amount of fanfare, nose whistling all the while.
”Ahh, good brightening Mr. Th’alashar. Gwigwyn Hurin sir, at your service,” the eccentric old man added with a flourish of his hand, like a preamble to a bow that never happened.
”I must say the Regent will be pleased that you are able to attend this particular brightening. Rest assured our destination is within the boundaries of the Empire, but for security reasons and the privacy of the Regent and his family, I may not reveal the specifics of their private retreat. If it should please you, we might depart from outside the inn?” Vanishing, the two of them, from amidst a drinking crowd would surely have the patrons telling some tales when they stumbled home to their wives at the end of the brightening, though many of the latter would surely put it down to drunkenness altogether.
And so once having Arkahn’s agreement, Gwigwyn led the way outside the Crown Inn and Tavern, strolling away till he found a spot out of the way of passersby.
”I don’t know if you have traveled via teleportation before, Mr. Th’alashar,” the old sorcerer said while laying a hand on the tigron’s shoulder,
”but if you are not accustomed to this means of travel, you may experience a very brief bout of motion sickness immediately upon our arrival. Other than that, safest means of travel statistically speaking. I’ve never lost a one yet sir.” Talkative fellow, Gwigwin. But having said so, the old man took a moment to slip into clara before the air in front of the pair wavered, then a step forward had them off to their destination.
ooc: new thread