"...huh. But it's not like mindless undead which won't organize without a necromancer, they're intelligent and just usually don't form up into systems?"

"I've not actually met one, I don't know how smart they are, but they're definitely not like mindless undead. They have tribes and cheftians, just not—towns and governments and trade, I think."

"Do orcs exist here?"

"I don't recognize the name, but it doesn't mean they don't exist..."

"They're a little like that, possible to organize but seldom to never inclined to do it on their own. Golarion has goblins but not that I personally encountered."

She shrugs. "Goblins are more common than bandits, around here."

"Is it a high-bandit area? It hasn't seemed that way but I haven't been traveling and maybe people wouldn't be passing on bandit-related warnings."

"Bandits are rare and goblins are more common than them but still not very common. If you travel in a large group or with armed guards you're unlikely to be bothered, but most merchants have ever had a caravan attacked by goblins?"

"Understood."

"I'm not the person to ask about this."

Does he have anything else? Keisha mostly showed up to notify about her spare channel and complain.

Nope, she's free to go, her channel's on the schedule now.

Nothing interrupts him for the rest of the day.

Then he will get lots done!

No new levels greet him when he goes to bed.

They don't always! Zzzzz.

In the early morning, hours before sunrise, he'll hear his door creak open, and the sound of tinking armor and rustling paper.

Blai doesn't sleep in his armor, you fuck yourself up that way, but he does wear his holy symbol - the pointy end is tucked into the wires that form the sun - and his mace is on the nightstand. He sits up and grabs it.

There's a dark-skinned human woman leaning against his door, leafing through his translation work on the Acts. She's wearing skintight armor made of mottled metal, and there's a large, curved sword sheathed at her waist. She appears unconcerned by Blai's awakening and armament.

When she looks up, her face reveals a large, lidded eye surrounded by four smaller ones. She has no nose. She lowers the paper as he regards Blai. One may notice that her arms have one more segment than most humanoids', and that her hands are four-fingered, opposed like a bird's.

"I was wondering when you'd wake up."

"You are not welcome in my home. I insist that you leave immediately. You may make an appointment if you wish to talk to me." This is his fort-commander voice, the voice that tells anyone who doesn't already know better that he's authorized and trained to grind people down to pathetic bleeding nubbins and heal them to start over again if he so chooses. It probably isn't impressive to legendary adventurer-burglars.

"I would have, but winter appear to be coming ahead of schedule, so I'm forced to skip a few steps. It doesn't matter much, in the end. Is it true that you are from another world?"

She slips the translation notes into a Bag of Holding.

"Those notes don't belong to you. I will answer questions if you return my belongings, make an appointment, and come back for a cordial meeting."

"I don't think I will. It is time for me to leave, and I'm bringing you with me. The only question is if you want to do it unconscious, or if you'd like to collect your personal effects before we go."

Sanctuary.

She doesn't know what he just cast, but it sure doesn't look like he's acquiescing!

She's going to draw her sword, kick off the door, and disarm Blai of his mace with the flat of her blade—oh, it's some sort of protection ward. Yeah, she's not failing a DC 13 will save.

Well, his plan was to use Sanctuary as cover to try to get out the window and run for help and he can still technically try that while she attacks him.