Blaise strolls into the tavern early in the afternoon. Where the fire sprite had spent most of the winter covered in ash and soot, he now appears spotlessly clean. It is clear he is in a very jovial mood. He hums a merry tune as he sits at a central, easily visible table and motions for an ale. The Ifrit begins to remove items from a small leather satchel on his belt: a candle and holder, a quill and inkwell, and a small leather-bound tome.
The sprite, still humming merrily, pinches the wick of the candle between his thumb and forefinger, sparking a tiny, dancing flame. The spine of the new leather tome cracks audibly as he opens it to a fresh page. Finally, Blaise slowly unscrews the lid of the inkwell, dips the quill a few times, and gets to writing.