"Don't know what any of it means, but I'm sick of bein' stuck." He put a hand to his glasses and changed jobs to Black Mage. The robes replaced his furs and armor, and his eyes bloomed to a pair of embers from under the concealing hood.

"Memorize the colors or write that down. I'm gonna break the rock." He wasn't keen on dying, but... he couldn't read the stuff or speak to faeries. If it got bad, well... They could get the cake off his corpse and he'll see 'em in a couple of days.