“It’s not much… but it’ll do till we head out again,” Courynn offered, as he ushered Lynneth into his boarding house room in Relkath’s Foot behind Nymara, but after their twelve-day trek through the woodlands anything resembling a civilized dwelling suited her just fine. After spending a couple of days camped outside the ruins of the Ancient’s tower so she could spend time with her sister, he and Nymara returned to the Sunglade to find the sorceress still stranded there, having been unable to convince either of the Masters patrols that passed through to take her home… despite her very best efforts. Continuing, as he went to light a fire in the hearth; “We’ll gather fresh provisions and be back at it the day after tomorrow. It’ll take eight days to reach the edge of the Yuirwood near Delthuntle where we’ll leave you, but it’s just a little more than a day from there.” “Hopefully, that will give me enough time to contact Jhered and ask him to deliver a letter to my father,” Nymara remarked as she plopped wearily on the bed, pulling Myrrha from per pack and petting her affectionately. Surveying the room, Lynneth found it unsurprisingly rustic but functional, then her eyes lit upon the large tub and she gushed longingly; “I haven’t had a bath in far too long.” “Well we can see to that… can’t we?” the gorgeous star elf smirked capriciously, looking expectantly to Courynn as he stood from his task at the hearth. “Yes we can,” he answered, moving to the tub and starting the flow of water, which immediately drew the sorceress’ attention. “Is that some kind of elven magic?” she inquired in near awe as she watched the water pour from the pipe extending from the living wall. “No… the water is drawn up from the tree’s roots by natural process,” he explained, while he dropped his elven hearthstone, which she’d marveled at when he first produced it to heat and illuminate their tent at night, into the water and ordered it to provide the light of a torch and the heat of a campfire. “How do you plan on contacting this merchant?” Lynneth inquired as they made their way into the Taproot and settled in a small table near the back wall, finding the stares of distain from its half-elven patrons unsettling. She heard that humans weren’t particularly welcomed by the native Yuir, but being from a predominately human city, she’d never experienced the type of prejudice she’d encountered since arriving in Relkath’s Foot. “Last time, he, and a small contingent of my kin, showed up the second night I sang here because they heard about my performance,” the star elf replied. “I can only hope they’ll do so again… and that he’ll be willing to deliver my letter when he returns to Sildeyuir.” After placing their orders with the surly tavern maid, Lynneth inquired; “I’ve always wondered about the name of this town… who is Relkath and why is his foot so important?” “According to legend… Relkath is an ancient forest god who sleeps beneath the earth and this is where his foot sits close to the surface,” Courynn answered with a mild chuckle; it wasn’t an uncommon question.