Mornin’ time in Gilba Gilba the night after Blom visited the mysterious Crylax in his own room. They were both in the common room as usual sippin’ on their Tasty Ciders and remarkin’ earnestly on their thoughts of the world. These fellas known each other for a spell as it shoulda been obvious but they have some serious issues to address.

“Jibberjabs,” Blom said flatly, his tone betraying nothing but his extreme disappointment and everything else he was feeling. He didn’t care.

“They’re back,” Crylax responded.

“Aye, you’ve intimated as much. I reckon you’re talkin’ to the wrong Blomgrin.”

Crylax threw his arms up and around. “Yeah Blom! I RECKON I do! If Glen could show his face and stay kept in one spot for more than a DOCKET, maybe he could answer some of these questions.”

“Aye, mayhap.”

“Well where is the man? We have a serious situation on our hands.”

Blom sighed and looked over his square spectacles with a mixture of irritation, derision, annoyance, and handful of other synonyms that belonged in this sentence. He was really hungry. Whenever hunger overtook him he was unable to focus on anything in front of him, and that included this scene. He could barely get the words out without feeling in his gut the emptiness that was there.

What was this scene about? Blom closed his eyes and raised his eyebrows in an effort to get things under control. He often felt like this when he didn’t eat enough during the day and he needed to rectify this. In his younger days he enjoyed this delirious sensation because it was often coupled with the magic of a Wayward Spirit’s seductive kiss. Now it just meant he needed some FOOD.

“Hang on, Crylax, I gotta postpone this conversation fer a bit o’ food that belongs in this here vessel.” He pointed like an idiot to his stomach.