Absorbed in thought, Stark strode briskly down the streets of Westbridge, his gait made somewhat irregular as he subconsciously avoided the water puddles and mud ruts which criss-crossed the path. It had been some time since he had been able to return to town. Stark looked forward to a hearty meal and a seat close to the roaring fire of the inn to warm his chilled bones.
Stark's mission was an important one. Scouting the depths of the frozen city, determining locations of strategic importance and noting the everyday problems which afflict the citizenry. The pack on his back contained some updated maps as well as information which Lord Elbryan and High Priestess Atandella would find most interesting.
His hasty walk is suddenly halted by the appearance of a shrouded form that seemingly springs from nowhere. Aghast, Stark's eyes take in the dark blue flowing robes and emblazoned shield bearing the crest of Istishia. A low seething hiss escapes his beak.
"Just my luck to fall across the path of Quaster, yet again.", Stark silently curses to himself. He quickly flourishes his cloak, concealing his damning cache of documents, while leveling a heated gaze upon his opponent.
