"Wha-" Kevril gives Lazaret a long, dumbfounded stare. "An attorney? But you're a... none of you are even..."

As outrageous as having a legal representative sounds to Kevril, he is equally puzzled by the fact that neither his attorney, security, or investigative specialist are human. Judging from his look, the party deduces he has never seen a tabaxi or deep gnome in his short life in the north.

Nevertheless, he is smart enough to accept any and all help when given.

He sets his feet on the floor, wipes his eyes, and takes a deep breath.
"It all started a few months ago. One of the merchants in town had bilked my friend's father out of an enormous wealth. At least 50 gold pieces. Sold him a dwarven axe that would never need sharpening. Never. He used it for half a day and it broke. The merchant told him he must've been using is wrong. But he wasn't. My friend's dad knows how to use an axe. He's worked for the mill his entire life. That axe was no more dwarven than the hair on my head.

"So last week, the merchant returns from the south and he's talking about all the money he made down there. A couple days ago, he's supposed to be on his way in a caravan north, I suppose to rip off whomever he can in Alaka. So my friend and me and a couple of his friends decide we'll wait for his caravan at the bridge. It's a bit of a ride from here, but we figure we can stop him there and get his dad's money back. You know. Just to take what's rightfully his, not anything more.

"Well, it gets to be evening and he still hasn't arrived, but then a cart finally comes up the road. My friend tells me to stay with the horses on the other side of the bridge so they don't get scared and run off. They go across the bridge and stop the merchant, only it isn't him. It's a different deal altogether. But my friends don't realize it until it's too late. There's a single man driving the horses. My friends stop him and ask if he's seen any other merchants, but then this hooded man steps out of the cart and you won't believe it. Fire falls from the sky onto one of my friends. Then the hooded man walks over to another, grabs him by the arm, and he falls to the ground. It was like he just sucked the life out of him. My other friend tries to run, but the driver hits him in the back with a crossbow."

Kevril's eyes widen. "Then the driver asks the hooded man if he should put my three friends with the rest of the bodies. And the hooded man just nods. They open the back of the cart and they just toss my friends in like it was nothing!

"By now I'm getting ready to run for it, but the cart doesn't come over the bridge at all. Instead, it turns off the trail and heads west, toward the Wildwood."

Kevril's jaw sets determinedly as he continues. "By this point, my courage has returned. These guys have just killed three of my friends, so I follow them! They go for a mile, maybe two. The terrain is kind of rolling there, and notched inside one of those hills is an opening. A little cave mouth. The cart pulls up to the opening, the horses get kind of spooked. It's dark now. The driver is telling someone to unload the bodies. It's too dark to see much, but I don't think the things he was talking to were even human. They were smaller, and scurried around like animals. They made a lot of noise and they dragged a bunch of bodies out of the back. Not just my friends, either."

In reply to Kevril Moonstone (msg # 33):

To Kevril:

That's my boy! A few more questions. Keep answering honestly and maybe Sister Gwendelon will not hang you for your crimes of attempted, yet justified, robbery and general foolishness.

What is the name of the merchant who wronged your friend, the man you were hoping to find?

Where, exactly, is this cave that you mention? I assume we will need to go there to clear your name.

To Sister Gwendelon:

Good Sister, surely you can delay my client's execution to give us time to investigate his claims? I would also ask what kind of evidence would you need to reconsider his guilt? We can go out to this alleged cave and take a look to see if what he says is true. After all, a young boy such as Kevril who has not so much as dragged mud into his mother's kitchen before could not be responsible for the things he stands accused of doing.

I remember a time at sea where my Captain accused a young deckhand of stealing bread from the galley. He denied the charges, but was unable to offer up an alibi or any evidence to the contrary. The young girl's right hand was swiftly removed by a rather sharp scimitar and it appeared that justice had been served despite any tangible evidence against her. The next day I discovered a rather large nest of rats just on the other side of the galley wall. The rats were quite fat and had clearly been feasting on our provisions for some time.

In reply to Lazaret (msg # 34):

What else can we seen in this prison? Are the other cells occupied?

"His name is Rikaver. Rikaver Whitehorse, cheating donkey, that one.

"As for the cave, you turn west at the bridge, there's not really a trail, but if you get to the hills, not the little ones, but the real hills, go over one or two of them, then look north, there's an opening about half way up." He sighs, frustrated at his own description. "It's hard to explain, but I could show you."

After carefully listening to all of the young boy's description, the Sister finally gasps at Kevril's suggestion of release. "Absolutely not," she scolds. "Might I remind you that there is a reason for your incarceration. Actions have consequences. If laws were merely upheld when it was convenient, this place would revert into the chaos that was seen here when I first arrived."

"I'm sorry, Kevril. I cannot let you go."

In reply to Sister Gwendelon (msg # 37):

And we would not think to ask of such a thing. But kindly consider our request for more time. What evidence do you need us to produce?

The Good Sister smiles brightly. "You are a persistent negotiator, Fire Star of the Lazaret. I will give you 48 hours. The night after next. As for evidence, since you believe this sensational story about a hooded man, bring me this man AND his hood. But I warn you against hope. I fear the boy's story is just that. A story. It's sad, I admit. One so young who made some bad decisions, but even now unwilling to admit them. Instead making this fanciful story of hooded men and carts full of bodies. But if it will bolster your hearts to search in vain for this fictitious man, so be it.

"48 hours."

Kevril rises desperately from his bench and pleads with Sister Gwendelon. "But the cave? How will they find the cave without me? They need me. Let me show them!"


OOC: To answer an earlier question, the second cell appears empty. Keep in mind that the walls (including the front wall) are stone, with a barred door from floor to top of doorway. So if someone sits on the near wall, you wouldn't see him.

The cell on the far end of the hall you can barely see anything through the bars due to the extreme angle, so hard to tell. The 4th and final cell (kind of behind the stairs and opposite the cell on the far end of the hall) has its gate open (you can see it protrude into the far end of the corridor), so that one is presumably empty, as well.

"Kevril, I'm sorry, but the answer is still no. Be thankful I've given you the opportunity I have, because I will certainly be criticized for it. And for your sake I hope this story about a hooded man and cave of bodies is true."

She turns to Lazaret. "Do you need anything else from the boy or should we be on our way?"

In reply to Sister Gwendelon (msg # 41):

To Kevril,

Anything else we should know, boy? I also hope your story is true. There is nothing more that I love than a great adventure, but a fool's errand is not my idea of adventure.

To Sister Gwendelon,

I believe we are through here.

Tell me, Sister. You are a cleric, correct? Which god do you worship? We never had a "Sister" aboard our bark. Only a "Brother." He was a cleric of Pelor. Not a bad choice of deities. There are so many, after all. I follow the teachings of the Cat Lord. A minor deity to be sure, but my ancestors have followed him for many generations. I would describe myself as more spiritual than religious though. We don't have a lot of rituals or obligations. I'm sure I would forget to observe them anyway, but there is a part of me that really likes the idea of a god watching over my journeys and adventures. Hopefully I am doing well by him. Please, give my regards to your deity as well. One can't be too careful or picky, can they?

Kevril looks to Lazaret, but provides no further information when asked.

Sister Gwendelon turns to head back upstairs, waiting for those on the stairs ahead of her to ascend. "I am a sister of Pelor," she responds to Lazaret. "May the light of Pelor shine upon you on your journey."

OOC: Thorfire, you have your choice of heading up the stairs with everyone else, hiding in plain sight as Gwendelon passes by you (you will have to make a new roll, however, since your position has changed since your last roll), or jump off the stairs down into the corridor below (see private message regarding the difficulty of that task).

Hoping his comrades make sure the trapdoor isn't shut and locked, Thorfire jumps off the stairs further into the dungeon and hides in the shadows until the party has left.  Then he proceeds to quietly check out the remaining cells.

23:07, Today: Thorfire Shortankard rolled 9 using 1d20+5.  Stealth.

Thorfire lands in the corridor with a bit of a thud, but Lazaret's ceaseless banter more than covers any out of the ordinary sounds. The halfling holds his position in the shadows until he is confident that the Good Sister, accompanied by the others, is well into the office.

With the help of a torch from the wall, Thorfire quickly determines that the two cells on the same side of the corridor as Kevril are indeed empty. The final cell, located underneath the stairs and on the other side of the corridor, is stocked with supplies: some rations, food and water, and a shelf of books, none of which look particularly interesting or useful.

23:36, Today: DM rolled 78 using 1d100.  5% chance of something cool in the supplies (roll of 95-100).

Between the cells on the opposite end of the corridor, Thorfire also notices a metal grate in the ceiling. Smoke from the torch disappears up through the grate. It's difficult to tell, but presumably above the grate is a chimney of some sort, a little too small for a human, but possibly wide enough for a halfling.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:46, Tue 04 Apr 2017.

Kevril, having heard the commotion when Thorfire landed in the corridor, watches intently as the halfling peruses the rest of the cells. The boy, not sure whether his new visitor brings good news or ill, observes in silence for a minute before his curiosity gets the better of him.

"Hey," he finally whispers down the corridor toward Thorfire. "Who- who are you?"

After checking the rest of the cells and making sure the good sister and guard can't hear, Thorfire whispers I was hired by your mother and I am with the party that just left.  Now that the "good" sister is not here, is there anything else you can tell me about the hooded man and the cave?

Thorfire looks at the grate and looks at Kevril and wonders, Can the boy fit into the grate and chimney too?

17:31, Today: Thorfire Shortankard rolled 21 using 1d20+2.  Perception.

"I told you everything I know," he whispers. "There's a cave. It's in the foothils, but I can't remember exactly how far in. And I'm not a bandit. I don't care what Gwendelon says. We were just going to take what belonged to my friend's father. They were my friends - well, at least one of them was. And now they've been killed by the hooded man and all she cares about is upholding her stupid rules by -" he stops, still unable to speak aloud his upcoming fate.

Thorfire's examination of the grate reveals that someone as small as Kevril could probably fit in the chimney, but little more. It would be impossible for the boy to climb on his own. It also reveals the bars of the grate are well imbedded in the stone of the ceiling. Removing them might require a chisel and hammer, making some noise.

Atop the stairs and into the office, Gwendelon motions to the desk where Enoch sits scowling behind an assortment weapons. "Very well. Against my own judgement, I have given you 48 hours. It will be in your best interest to take your things and get some sleep with what's left of this evening. For Kevril's sake, I hope you find this hooded man, but I'm afraid to say that I doubt you will."

Remembering the door to the dungeon a couple strides away, she turns as if to close it.

In reply to Sister Gwendelon (msg # 50):

Sister Gwendelon, you are rather kind to give us this time, but if it would not be too much too ask, can our time start in the morning? We have just arrived in town and know that it may not be safe to travel at night. A good rest would do our weary bones some good and we will be off to a fresh start in the morning.

I'm sure there is a nice place to sleep in town somewhere. Could you make a recommendation? We could sleep here in the office if it is not being used overnight?

Sister Gwendelon reaches the first of the doors to the cellar and closes it.


As the Good Sister reaches for the second door, Lazaret's suggestion nearly topples her over with its preposterousness. "Good heavens no," she exclaims, straightening with dismay and stepping toward Lazaret (and away from the second door which still stands open). "The Stronghammer Inn is right next to the tavern. To the east of the park. You must've seen it. Or there is Polly's on the north road. It is very nice. It serves a slightly higher clientele"

"I'd say the Stronghammer is the place for you," Enoch sneers from his seat.

In reply to DM (msg # 53):

Lazaret retrieves his rapier from the desk. Stares at the blade for a moment and then at Enoch. He sheathes the blade without losing eye contact then turns to walk out the door.

A good evening to you, my Lady. We shall see you in two day's time.

Sensing that the boy and the dungeon is a dead end Thorfire creeps back toward the stairs where he strains to hear the conversation about the inn.  He is somewhat disturbed when he hears the door closing.  He decides to wait an hour before stealthy creeping back up the stairs and listens at the door for signs of activity.

BTW, what is the time of day?

10:26, Today: Thorfire Shortankard rolled 24 using 1d20+5.  Stealth.
10:27, Today: Thorfire Shortankard rolled 10 using 1d20+2.  Perception.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:29, Wed 05 Apr 2017.

In reply to Thorfire Shortankard (msg # 55):

Gentlemen. Shall we turn in for the night at the Stronghammer? I was born without fancy surroundings and have no need for them now. It's a shame we couldn't stay here. No one else is using the space after all.

I assume we should procure a bunk for the halfling. He must be here somewhere.

Having obtained what information they could, Therarak, Celador, and Lazaret depart for the Stronghammer inn.

Thorfire, meanwhile remains in the dungeon. Unfortunately for him, after the others depart, Enoch closes the second door to the cellar, locking the Halfling below with Kevril!

OOC: The party is now officially split up! I will be creating two different chapter 3 threads. Chapter 3A will be visible only to Therarak, Celador, and Lazaret. Chapter 3B only visible to Thorfire. Look for them shortly!!!