Lornius was a brutal place; the last time Storm had been through town left him badly wounded but much richer for the journey. In this little trip, he itched for the simplicity of exploiting two elements of the town left altogether unexplored in his last venture: free cash and good smokes. He would need to earn quite a bit of coin to cover the journey from the mainland to the sky-city, but it felt like cash was poured so freely here that a penny-wise grifter could retire in weeks. These people had power, cash, and very little attention to detail.

As Attila was tied taut to a thick bench post in the front of the large stone-laid inn, Storm glanced up at the thatch roof and smiled as he ripped in the odor of stew pouring from the window. Fresh, thick stew maid from new, healthy animals was as hearty and warming as food got, and the wizard opened the door with an eager toe, smiling at the bell-chime above the door.

If you're going to float a city, maybe ship in some varied woods first?

The bar at the base floor at the inn was covered from floor to ceiling in paneling, a mid-range teak color that was well-knotted and altogether depressing. The tabletops, stools, and benches also adorned a similar woodgrain, which cloyed the mage before he could grab a seat at the bar. A bright eyed little bald man quickly swung by, a friendly greeting and short conversation which ended with a healthy glass of mead poured into a mug over a single large cube of ice.

Can't beat a cold drink, I suppose. Where's the smoke-man in here? Can a man get some leaves in this joint?!

As if on command, a very thin man at the edge of the bar sauntered over, brandishing a large and wholly suspicious smile. Storm had traveled long and wasn't game for much of the trivialities.

"You carry tobacco? Just came up into town and your customs folk seized all my leaves. Trust me when i tell you this city doesn't want my fingers getting twitchy."

Patently ignorant to what critical information he had just heard, the slender salesman pushed forward.

"Tobacco, oak clove, devil's breath and wiggle-leaf. Has to stay in town, and keep the kids away. Hell, we even sample for travelers; what town did you say you were from?"

"I didn't." Storm eyed the suspicious fellow unflinchingly, very unsure of his boldness. "But it's Radasanth. Shit-hole of milk and honey, as they call it. Never heard of your exotics down there, but I AM an adventurer. What's the 'wiggle leaf' all about?"

The frail distributor put an arm around the shoulders of the wizard, entirely blind to the risks he chose to assume. Uncomfortable, Storm felt his spine straighten as he locked in on the chatty stranger. Was this a trap?

"It's a wiggle on your tongue, and a wiggle for the mind. Delicious, smooth, and the ride is worth the price of admission. Take a pinch; it's twenty crowns for a cube if you like it."

The gypsy dropped some of the dark green leaves into Storm's palm, the electromancer noticing immediately the oily texture of the jagged-edged leaves. This was a bizarre plant, something he decided it unwise to trust but too interesting to ignore. An appreciative smile was joined with a leering stare as he chased off the dealer, pushing the leaves into a small burlap pocket that Lornian customs had seen fit to free of his precious tobacco.

Fantasizing of his pending adventure, Storm's eyes were tripped by the wave of high-chest meat that floated down the stairs from the top floor, surrounded totally by what appeared to be a wealthy woman.