[IRP] Return to the Dread Isle

[Andy]

The group left their weapons near Renault's door as he went about finishing hanging up his laundry and preparing breakfast. Bacon, formed from a brace of rabbits, hotcakes from acorn-flour, topped with painstakingly gathered wild honey, and scrambled bird's eggs. Tiras's mouth watered at the smells, almost like home. He ate ravenously, stopping only when he noticed Renault had paused before eating to pray. The squire felt a flush of shame color his face, realizing his disrespect. He clasped his hands, and prayed thanks over the food, and blessing as well. He thought he felt a pulse of gentle warmth from his side, but disregarded it.

Once done, he continued to eat, though more slowly, savoring the meal. It could be his last, after all. And he would hate for his last meal to have gone down without enjoying it. Instead, while savoring the food, he was eyeing this hermit bishop. He'd never heard of such, and he'd certainly never seen a bishop so fit. He was positively rippling with muscle. The man was still shirtless, and Tiras was perplexed on seeing the distinct scars of battle across his arms and torso.

"So," Renault asked, "What are a knight, a prince, a rogue, and a manakete doing here? You said something about less-than-reputable people, but that could apply to anyone. What is going on on the continent?"