Draeven meandered through the streets of Gallia, deeply absorbed in philosophical contemplation. As his boots padded softly along the slick paving, the sorcerer flicked a lock of hair, blood red in the darkness, from his eyes. It felt good to be moving again, as he had spent most of the day and the start of the night reading forgotten tomes. Most of them were fake, even the most powerful magician would not have been able to coax actual power from their dusty pages. The tricks of illusionists and con artists, nothing more..
And yet, every idea had potential. Draeven readjusted his mask slightly, watching the Leaping Mare with a bemused smile as he walked towards it. The customs of the inhabitants of Gallia were enthusiastic, even endearing. Although he was nothing but a visitor, not staying in the town for very long, he considered staying longer than he had planned. And then, out of the corner of his eye..
Draeven cocked his head slightly to the side, listening to the interaction between the fair woman and the man, not overly interested until his three companions stepped from the shadows. He walked towards the group, slowly, before speaking in low tones, just loud enough to be heard. Not threatening, not passionate, simply curious contemplation.
"If all you seek is a 'thank you', why call for others? Or do you all feel you deserve her gratitude?"