[ Even in the dank, musky cavern, Ferdinand von Aegir carries himself with meticulous poise. In one white-gloved hand, he holds a lustrous spear, keeping it ready should the need a rise to use it. With the other, he pushes away drooping swaths of algae.

While he certainly looks the very picture of competence, there is a puzzled, almost troubled expression on his face. That look of concern fades, however, when he sees he has encountered another living soul at the end of the very tunnel he has just entered, even if their features are too distant too make out. ]

Ah, how prodigious! I was beginning to fear that I had become lost and would never see another person again! I am Ferdinand von Aegir. Please, allow me to accompany you.

[ He places his free hand over his chest and bows with a practiced, fluid dignity. ]

[ The unease that Ferdinand feels is almost palpable. The thick streams of algae hang like curtains across the stream, and something about them raises the hackles on the back of his neck. (Thankfully, his hair is so long that he hasn't yet even noticed that he has hackles to speak of.) This moss has blocked all forward progress for several minutes now, strands of it still clinging to his sleeves and shoulders from when he tried to simply hack his way through it.

His nostrils flare, and he smells the acrid smell of a lit flame. He holds up a hand to his fellow passenger, visibly tense. ]

Hold for just a moment. It seems that we have company.

[ Within a few seconds, a procession of boats appear in the distance, the flicker of torchlight drawing attention to their presence. Seemingly undaunted by the moss, the lead boat slowly approaches the curtain, and a kindly, matronly woman steps to the front of the boat, helped by two of her fellow passengers. She reaches out for the moss, and then...

Oh, no. Goddess, no. Ferdinand's eyes shoot wide open, and instinctively, he snarls with anger. Were his canine teeth always so pronounced? And was that a growl? ]

That woman—! Quickly, we must do something!

[ Without thinking, he reaches for the oar in order to row the boat toward the procession. ]

[ The thing about fine, elegant clothes is that they draw attention. And if Ferdinand has learned anything in the last several hours, it is that he would do well to avoid attention whenever possible.

So, he has donned a rather simple disguise: a plain, brown cloak. Upon closer inspection, it does a rather poor job of obscuring his identity, unfortunately. The vendors in particular appear to be giving him the most attention, calling out to him specifically while advertising their wares. One even thrusts a freshly-grilled bug skewer in his face, causing him to stop in place. ]

Th-that is quite generous, but I am afraid I must decline. No, no... I am certain that you sell only the finest... bugs... but I must insist!

[ Ferdinand, in his zeal not to draw attention himself, now appears to be doing the exact opposite, slowly backing away from one vendor's stall before accidentally stumbling into another. He could probably use an extraction. ]

Oh, rats! Please, I beg of you, pardon my clumsiness. ...Hmm? No, I was not asking you to show me your finest rats! Why would you even sell such a thing?!?

[ Ferdinand is being taken from the end of the Crimson Flower route, in case it matters at all. If you'd like to work out details or have any questions, please feel free to PM me at this journal or contact me at bofubutt! ]