Donntae walks quickly through the streets of Leth Deriel, some red tinging his thick golden hair which has been loosely tied to sway across his shoulder blades as he walks. Brushing aside the flap of the tent, the elven cleric offers a nod and a slight smile to Arthianna. "Morning, Donntae. I'll be with you in a moment." Donntae nods and sets a pouch of coins on Arthianna's desk next to her teapot.

Reaching into his grey bag, Donntae removes a pole and a burin of larch wood. His calloused fingers pass over the surface of both items thoughtfully. "Your shaping's improved," says Arthianna, wiping the blood of the adventurer she'd been attending to off her hands with a rag. Donntae laughs, and shakes his head. "In my dreams, perhaps. These are from Dreamheart."

"Dreamheart?" asks Arthianna raising an eyebrow and taking a sip of tea. "The renown bard?" Donntae nods. "Hoping I can get them enchanted soon."

"Yes, well, judging from your bruises and scuffs I'd say you're hunting dire bears, and if the gods are good you'll be able to pay some enchanter to help you." Arthianna sets her tea down and moves back to lay a hand on the adventurer on the cot. Donntae glances at Arthianna, and slips the pole and burin into his bag.

"I'm almost done here," says Arthianna, "and I'll be with you in a moment to take care of those bruises, scuffs and those fried nerves from all that sorcery you're not practicing."

"Hey, I have it on highest authority that Rutilor loves me," replies Donntae.