Stark stepped down from the fountain and smiled broadly as he handed out the remainder of his parchments to the anxious citizens. "Yes, Krogenar... I am well aware of your presence. Twould take more than a few seasonal bathings to shield your wretched smell, even in the depths of this frigid waste", he thought amusedly to himself. His hawkish eyes hadn't missed the Istishian's less than adequate attempts to lose himself in the crowd as he had continued his speech. Though well skilled in the arts of camouflage in the wild, Krogenar was well out of his element here in the city. The expected and long-awaited appearance of the enemy merely made things all the more interesting. "Indeed, the Istishians have placed their necks right in our noose, just as Lady Atandella foresaw they would" Stark congratulated to himself as he marked Krogenar's slinking retreat through half-lidded eyes.
Pocketing the fire ring, Stark graciously took his leave of the assemblage and made his way down the ice shrouded street to the depths of a frost-limned alleyway. From the depths of a 'borrowed' bag of holding he withdrew a flowing white cloak which blended seamlessly with the surrounding snow, even in the growing darkness of the fast encroaching night. Donning the garment, Stark drew the cowl low across his head and studied the wall before him with a smile. "Ah... the thrill of bagging the mark."
