A fly was making rounds above the tables, its droning buzz drowned out by the susurrus of the stuffy common room of the Ratsrun Inn. The smiling foreigner felt the many eyes trained on him, but pretended not to notice. He downed another small shot, and as he had with the other, slammed it down on the table, turned the tiny tin cup half a circle and gazed expectantly at his table mate, who besides his obvious uneasiness towards this strange quiet newcomer, seemed above all else perplexed at the wrapped baby peeking out from behind the foreigner's left shoulder.
It had been a long trek, in a not so welcoming land. But he knew he was getting close now, he had to be, for his money had all but run out. Not to mention that caring for the babe was getting harder. He had been purchasing goat's, and even horse's milk, but changing its wrappings were still a trial in itself, one that needed plenty of spirits... and carefully closed nostrils.
He narrowed his eyes and reached inside his robe, something that gave pause to many a patron. He slowly took out the scroll and unrolled it for the man to see. He took a moment to formulate his thoughts, it had been a while since he last spoke common.
"I am looking for a fellow Glass Shifter. This one pictured here. His name is Auxzali. Has he stayed at this stinking hole of an establishment?"
The man's eyes darted between the scroll and the foreigner. He frowned in confusion for a second, then licked his lips. "And eh...What's it to ya?" He asked hopefully, making his intentions clear.
The foreigner reached under his seat and slammed his ouzala down on the table, its jagged teeth pointing the man's way. "It would mean a lot. You are going to help me?"
The foreigner, though still smiling, looked positively ready to pounce. The man's crooked smile melted away as he abandoned all thoughts on monetary gain. Never bully the glassman, he reflexively thought.
"A-alright. Take it easy there big fella...There wuz one other one of ye's... Came asking around bout Tar-Sul, he left the inn not long afore ye came in, he did... Demy-Sefrab might ave seen 'im... go ask 'im, why don'tcha."
"Where pray do I find this.. Demitzsefrabb?" The man told him what he needed, and the foreigner nodded, downed one last drink and repeated his little ritual one last time before getting up. As an afterthought he turned around and added."By the way... Do you know about any women who keep goats?"
Not long after, the foreigner stood rapping on the derelict door of an unseemly shack. This was even better than a goat he thought to himself, a miscarriage could potentially mean that the woman still produced milk, and she would most likely be happy to take care of this child, any child.
He wasn't sure he would let her keep it though. For a voutzia, an outsider, to raise an Ouzquin Dremorix. Unthinkable. And he had to begrudgingly admit, that he was becoming attached to the little one. Let the beads fall as they may, he thought to himself.
Just then the door opened...