It takes little more than a minute for the party to walk from the Trollop and Troll to the front door of the Constable's office. The building is of old stone construction, well worn from many years of service. Although it is quite late, the front door is still open. The room inside is rectangular. About 15 feet by 20. The room contains a desk, a large trap door in the floor (bolted from the side which you can see), and two doors along the opposite wall.

Seated at the desk is a skinny man with a thin messy tangle of hair smeared across his head, hunched over a pile of papers. He mumbles to himself as he reads them, occasionally scribbling something along the margins with an inked quill.

He looks up from his work, part startled and part annoyed by the presence of four people in the doorway. "Can I help you?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:41, Tue 28 Mar 2017.

In reply to DM (msg # 1):

On the way to the constable's, Lazaret inspires Thorfire...

Please, gentlemen, let me do the talking as it will probably happen anyway.

Thorfire, I saw how you handled those goons in the tavern. Your skills may be required here if my words are not sufficient. I know you can do this. There will be songs sung of your skill and cunning!

(Lazaret gives Thorfire inspiration - his last one for now.)

Good evening, fine sir. I am Fire Star of the Lazaret, Esquire. My services have been retained for young Master Kevril. Here are my papers. I am sure you will find them all in order.

Lazaret produces papers with his name and the seal of his patron.

I will need to see a written list of charges levied against the imprisoned and accused as well as all the damning and exonerating evidence hereby encumbered upon the aforementioned imprisoned and accused. Furthermore, I formally request to speak with my client in order to make proper introduction and pursuant to said introductions and accusations relieve him of his incarceration and imminent extermination heretofore forthwith and post haste!

In reply to Lazaret (msg # 2):

09:14, Today: Lazaret rolled 10 using 1d20+5.
09:13, Today: Lazaret rolled 6 using 1d20+5.  Persuasion/Deception.

(Rolled twice in case Advantage/Disadvantage was imposed.)

In reply to Lazaret (msg # 3):

Upon hearing Lazaret trying to persuade and deceive the Constable, Thorfire, who is proficient in deception, feels the attempt may not be successful...and take matters into his own hand.

11:28, Today: Thorfire Shortankard rolled 22 using 1d20+5.  Stealth (Hide in Plain Sight).
This message was last edited by the player at 22:58, Tue 28 Mar 2017.

Celador is impressed with Lazaret's vocabulary and is not sure he understands most of what the cat just said. Since he is unsure of his own ability to use language to persuade the man behind the counter, Celador calmly pushes aside his cloak and reveals the longsword at his side.


23:12, Today: Celador Qiris rolled 17 using 1d20+2.  intimidation.

This message was last edited by the player at 04:13, Wed 29 Mar 2017.

With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, the skinny man takes the papers from Lazaret and examines them. "Sir Reginald Pierre Archambault, eh? Never heard of him."

He starts to hand the papers back, but as he does, one of his filmy eyes catches a glimpse of Celador's longsword. He straightens slightly, still holding the documents provided by Lazaret. "But perhaps the Good Sister has." He rises to his feet and slinks toward one of the doors. "It is lucky for you that she is still here."

He raps lightly on the door, still keeping an eye his visitors. "Sister Gwendelon, I hate to disturb you but there are ahhhh.... three... (weren't there four?) Yes. Three visitors here that would like to speak with the prisoner. One has some papers."


OOC: The three he refers to are Therarak, Celador, and Lazaret. He doesn't seem to see Thorfire hiding in plain sight.

The door opens and out steps Sister Gwendelon. She is younger than most people expect, with long blond hair and a noticeable air of authority.

The skinny man hands her Lazaret's documents. Her eyes shift from the papers, to the tabaxi, and back to the papers. "Sir Reginald Pierre Archambault of Aquataine?" She ponders alound, looking up again and staring at Lazaret. "I've never heard of this gentleman."

The icy stare holds for only a instant, then it melts in a smile. "But no matter. Enoch says you want to speak to the prisoner. Why is that? Are you associates of his? You clearly aren't relatives."