Celador gladly takes the apples and the bread from Mattis and rewards her with a smile and a wink. The he turns to the newcomer.

"I'm not entirely sure what you said, but I think you are trying to tell us that you saw the murderer and he was bigger than a halfling, not a graceful or as handsome as an elf and not as well, erm, uh, not a cat person. Did you get a look at his face?" he says to the man, " and I don't think I caught your name? I'm Celador."

Celador can hear lazaret's voice from upstairs and quietly chuckles, "That guy..."

In reply to Celador Qiris (msg # 57):

Lazaret takes a moment to see if there are any keys sitting out in the open as Enoch is distracted. "We might end up here again the way this town is suspicious of strangers" he thinks to himself.

16:23, Today: Lazaret rolled 15 using 1d20+5.  Slight of Hand. (If keys are in sight.)
16:23, Today: Lazaret rolled 26 using 1d20+6.  Perception. (Looking for unguarded keys.)
This message was last edited by the player at 21:24, Wed 27 Sept 2017.

Together again in the Constable's office, the heroes exchange notes with themselves, as well as with the new witness who, at least temporarily, has freed them from the dungeon below. Lazaret scans the office for any loose keys, but somewhat surprisingly, the guards seem to at least have that part of their business under control. None are seen except for the ring fastened tightly to the Mayor's belt, which even the quickest of thieves would be hard pressed to attain.
22:02, Yesterday: DM rolled 51 using 1d100.  50% chance of spare key being available (roll of 50 or lower).

For his part, the Mayor apologizes for his rush to judgement against the group, admitting that the entire town is a bit on edge with the recent uptick in rumors regarding the orcs of the red tooth assembling, undead haunting the northern road, and even tales of the drow ascending from underground to terrorize the surface.

Talk returns to the murder case, but before they get far into the details, their discussion is interrupted by a woman who stumbles into the office. Brown wavy hair matted in sweat hangs down into her eyes. She wears leather armor, and protruding from said armor are two arrows, one in the back and another just under her ribs. "Gwendelon," she gasps. "I've been told to ask for Gwendelon."

She winces in pain and drops to a knee.

In reply to DM (msg # 59):

Lazaret leaps over the desk and the guards placing his large paws on the woman's shoulder and back. Steadying her he says, "Madam, your wounds need tending to."

06:36, Today: Lazaret rolled 12 using 2d8+3.  Cure Wounds (LVL 2).

"Where are your manners, Enis? Get this woman a chair. And some dressings for these wounds!"

"I'm sorry, madam. He has such poor personal skills and has been known to hire prostitutes of indeterminate gender for reasons I cannot fathom. I am Fire Star of the Lazaret. I'm afraid Sister Gwendalon is not available right now. The mayor here will offer to help you, but will most likely lock you up. It's sort of his thing. Maybe he and Enis are more friends than coworkers. I have no idea.

"What is your name? What happened to you?"
This message was last edited by the player at 11:41, Thu 28 Sept 2017.

Celador quickly grabs a chair before the shocked Enis can react to the woman and assists Lazaret in helping the woman sit down.

"Westbank is proving to have quite a bit of excitement these days," he mutters under his breath to Lazaret, then adds "prostitutes of indeterminate gender? Really?"


Does Celador recognize anything about her armor that would identify who she is or where she is from? Or identify the origin of the arrows?

23:07, Today: Celador Qiris rolled 19 using 1d20+3.  Perception.

The armored stranger brightens upon Lazaret's attention. "You're a healer," she concludes aloud.

"My name is Kathel. I travel with a caravan from the south. Security. My partner and I rode ahead as scouts. We were ambushed in a narrow valley by orcs. At least a dozen. Probably more. They killed my partner with arrows, but in his dying words he told me to ride ahead and ask for Gwendelon. He said she'd be able to help."

In reply to DM (msg # 62):

To Celador, "He's a very perverse man. I'm not judging."

To Kathel, "How far South of here? Who was your partner? What kind of caravan were you doing security for? Are they okay? Who is this strange man with all of you? Was she really a man? Did you end up marrying her? I have so many questions, but why hasn't anyone yet thanked me for securing your release?!"

"Ooh! And I got us a job!"

"Two miles. No more. There's a narrowing of the trail there. A stone wall on the west and a big drop on the east. Garrith and I rode ahead and the bastards crawled out of the wall. Cut us off from the rest of the caravan. They filled us both full of arrows. I was the lucky one. I got away. Garrith wasn't so lucky."

"Our caravan is mostly leather goods, but we do have a few special mining tools. We aim to make it all the way to Cathid and trade with the dwarves there. They wouldn't have ridden ahead if we didn't report back. I'm hopeful they are still south of the ambush sight, and still alive. But if the orcs go looking, the caravan won't be able to hold them off."

OOC: By the looks of the arrows still sticking out from Kathel's side, Celador concludes her story is believable. The arrows are crude but effective, typical of an orc "craftsman". She herself is dressed in slightly finer clothing than most in the Northlands. She wears light boots, not the thick hide variety common in these parts. The clothes suggest she comes from the more civilized world far to the south.

In reply to DM (msg # 64):

"Madam we have a mystery to solve, two traders to escort North, and now another caravan to save from certain death. Well the Northlands might be cold and inhospitable, but they certainly aren't boring."

Lazaret turns to the mayor. "Can your men handle this orc problem? I doubt it. Looks like you are on your own solving a murder that happened under your watch that was committed by someone who was not us.

"We shall ride South and dispatch the orcs. They always carry gold, don't they? Mayor, where are our horses?"

This message was deleted by the player at 04:24, Tue 03 Oct 2017.

In reply to DM (msg # 64):

Therarak tends to Kathel's wounds by offering her a healing potion.

OOC: My potions are now 2d8

The Mayor, growing wiser by the minute when it comes to dealing with Lazaret, rolls his eyes. Before he can answer negatively, however, another voice is heard.

"I can get you horses," the voice says. It is young Kevril, almost forgotten in the past few minutes. "I have a friend who works at the stable. But you have to let me ride with you."

Kathel, meanwhile, has carefully removed the arrows from her person. She examines them. Crude, but effective, the feathers dyed blood red. Yasha recognizes this as another calling card of the Orcs of the Red Tooth.

She gratefully takes Therarak's healing potion, grimacing noticeably as she drinks it. Regardless of the taste, the affect is immediately evident. Her eyes sharpen within a matter of seconds. "Thank you, my friend. I have to admit, I didn't expect a Tabaxi and a Svirfneblin to be the first to come to my aid when I arrived in Westbank."
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:00, Tue 03 Oct 2017.

In reply to DM (msg # 69):

Yasha will take the arrow and examine it. His eyes widen and he exclaims "Mi ave seen feaders like dis".

"Kevril my boy! I knew you would come in handy! Do you think you are up to fighting orcs?" Celador turns and responds to the boy.

He looks around at the crew assembled and lands on the newcomer with the funny accent, "It appears we are about to go rescue a merchant caravan from some orcs. You seem to be familiar with them. How are you with a sword and a bow?"

Celador scrutinizes his vestments and his obvious lack of any trappings of a soldier or fighter.


What can Celador tell about this new guy?

23:54, Today: Celador Qiris rolled 7 using 1d20+1.  insight.

He talks funny. Other than that, not much.

In reply to Celador Qiris (msg # 71):

"Get the horses! Run before the mayor changes his mind."

Turning to Yasha. "Who is this? Friend of yours, Enis? Where did he come from? I do hope he speaks common because all I heard was jibberish. If we have to hire a translator that will cut dearly into our profits." Lazaret takes one of the arrows and examines it, batting at the feathers a little more than he really should.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:58, Tue 03 Oct 2017.

In reply to Lazaret (msg # 72):

Yasha mumbles something about the arrow as he inspects it. Then when the Tabaxi finishes his questions and comments he turns and looks at the Tabaxi. Realizing that he hadn't introduced himself.
"Fi mi name ah yasha. Mi ah fram de north dats weh if mi accent ah from. Mi ave been tracking dem yah orcs of de red tooth"

The Mayor clearly doesn't like the idea of sending Kevril out to deal with bloodthirsty orcs, but he likes the idea of sending a contingent of the town's guards to do it even less.

It is over an hour before Kevril returns. It takes that long to convince his friend of the importance of loaning him five horses, to argue against, but eventually accept three horses, then to return to his own home to equip his own horse, all before returning to the office.

In total (counting his own) there are four horses. Kevril suggests (apologetically) that the halfling and gnome will have to share a ride with one of the bigger riders. The horses are nothing special. One of the three, Ol' Charlie, is noticeably stubborn and protests somewhat when sat upon. The other two are more cooperative, which really isn't saying much.

Once everyone is ready, Kathel leads the group down the main road. As they depart, Tyus calls to them. "Don't take too long. I still need your help solving the murder!"

OOC: In the hour before Kevril's return, players may do what they like: buy stuff, eat stuff, or just get prepared for the upcoming ride.

In reply to DM (msg # 74):

"I'm sorry but I didn't get a word of that. Did you say something about a tooth? Do you need a dentist? Perhaps you could write down what you are saying. Or maybe charades. Oh well."

Lazaret takes some time to return to the tavern telling the traders that he and his compatriots will not be able to take the job after all. "Our services are needed to the South."

In reply to DM (msg # 74):

Thorfire uses the time to buy studded leather armor.

In reply to Thorfire Shortankard (msg # 76):

"That's some nice looking armor, Thorfire. Where did you find it? Do you have money that the rest of us don't?" Lazaret bats at the studs on Thorfire's armor. "Of course, your armor only costs half what ours would."

In reply to Lazaret (msg # 77):

Perhaps "liberated" would have been a better term...after all we are helping these people with orcs, hooded men, and god knows what else.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:35, Wed 04 Oct 2017.

In reply to Thorfire Shortankard (msg # 78):

"Then liberate me a set of armor while you are at it."

In reply to Lazaret (msg # 75):
Yasha casts find fimiliar.

OOC: To be continued in Chapter 7, the Southern Road