On the Subject of Sin

Ingrid

Ingrid shrugged. So the archmage of the one and only mage glass exporter has... no mage glass? Bullshit. She was dubious, but she'd still try to come up with with plan less reliant on baiting the abandoned with OP items... Annndddd she proceeded to fail miserably.

"I don't know what the fuck else the abandoneds who come here want. A lot of them are fortune-seekers instead of permanent residents as far as I can tell. Not you though," she said with a laugh. "But the people's support is at least simpler, assuming you have the budget: get them warm and feed them. You can call it an official meet-the-archmage banquet or something. Have meat that's, y'know, not cooked on a fucking stick, and you can serve it with a side of almost any plant that doesn't grow here. You could probably feed them straight onions. It helps that you can pack the entire population of Snowcloak into a big enough room... I don't suppose the palace has a room like that?"

Ingrid put her head on her hands, thinking it over some more. "I could probably help procure the meat. I fish, and I could help with the cooking, too. Plus, there are a couple hunters who owe me some favors." (read: they lost to her at beer pong.)

"Shrine Ho"