Penville scratches his head.
"Errrm I've not got any teeth? I mean not for you."

*Rawwwulf*

"Ohhh right yes, of course. Erm" he shuffles around to get out some silver and slides it across the bar. Ot at least half way, as his arms can't reach that far.

"Maybe your memories coming back?" Penville says, hoping he's understood correctly as otherwise he's just left a generous tip.

Thamol decide to wait outside.  He never really happy indoors anyway.

The old man slowly scoops up counts the coins, poking them gently individually with his finger, muttering numbers to himself.  At last, he grins again, and pockets the money.
"Yeah, now it's all comin' back.  Fellow like that had a few drinks with his friends last night, he did.  All hooded and stuff, couldn't see their faces.  One or more of them smelled right bad, they did, though.  Anyway, couldn't help overhearin' somethin' about the cemetery, and shovels and stuff.  Mayhaps they're up to a bit of grave robbery.  None of my business, and, come to think of it, none of yours.  But I don't owe them nothing, so I'll tell you where they've gone.  They've gone out the Big Gate there, and from there I can't tell you where they went.  But it seemed like this grave robbery stuff's going down tonight.  If you're smart, you'll stay clear of the cemetery tonight.  There were at least five of them here last night, and they said something about the 'rest of us.'"
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:00, Fri 14 Mar 2008.

Tapping his fingers on the bar he listened whilst his eyes started to wander to the back row of drinks, had that one, had that, not had that and don't want to by the reputation, oooh he's got that one and ... oooh what graverobbing? he clicks back to listening.

"Well then, here's another silver, so now you owe me, and I'll take payment in your continued silence about this rendezvous alright?" he winks and tries to swivel off the chair to land coolly and ready to walk off.

Being Penville however, his top gets caught and he falls off the bar stool backwards and almost manages to hang himself, before the bar stool falls on top of him, giving him a headache but stopping the attempted self suicidal hanging.

Brushing himself off he winks again, though it now looks more like a squint, and meanders out.

Zar'Da had wandered along quietly with the others then posted himself outside the bar when Penville went about his information gather mission. As the halfling exited the building he asked,"So, was it a fruitful conversation with the barkeep?"

Thamol moves closer to hear what was found out.

"Yeah, they serve the best beer in town apparently."

He hiccups.

"Well that will be useful.  Anything about the men we looking for."
Thamol for once seems to be focused on what they need to do.

"Oh right that" he says, shiftily looking around both ways to make sure no one is overhearing except the group.

"They going, or are at, they might have already beent hinking about it, to the cemetary, through the big gate. Apparently one smelt really bad, which makes me think, if they were all wearing hoods and things, that a zombie or an undead thing or something seeing how it's a necromancer could be with them and they could be digging up more mates, so I guess we should head there to get a good look." he hrrumphs. Which is easier than it looks.

Zar'Da cocked an eyebrow.
"They are foolish enough to do this in the daylight? Then they should be easy enough to find." the half drow said as he adjusted his sword and mace.

"The dead should be left to decompose and return to the land.  I think we should stop this.  I am sure lady of this land would be upset as would dead if they  knew."
He pulls a peace of meat up and give it to his owl.
"May I suggest when we get close Whitefeather here has a good look from on height to tell us numbers and anything useful before we go in and face them."

Talvaroff had escorted Penville inside.  The dog was, indeed, formidable, but the knight felt like the halfling needed some steel at his side.
He spoke after they left,
"Actually, he said it was happening later tonight."

"Then it looks like we have time to prepare before they do their dirty work. Shall we scout the area so we can have a better idea of the lay of the land."

"He said he didn't know" said the halfling, kicking a stone and looking down. "And they might be tehre now, seeing how most people don't liek cemetaries as they are always full of necromancers raising armies. I wonder if it's a result of a traumatic childhood?"

Everyone now began walking towards the graveyard.  The burial place for the citizens of Bloodstone Village was situated on a level patch of earth, about two hundred feet across on either side.  It was surrounded by a tall iron fence, which was well-cared for, except for a few decorative strings of ivy weaving its way through the bars.  Tall mausoleums and memorials raised their marble heads up to the sky, and gravestones stood in orderly rows, marking the final resting places of fathers, mothers, sisters, and brothers.
There was only one gate into the cemetery, and by it on the inside stood a small hut, with a large skeletal hand gripping a set of scales carved of wood sticking out of the roof; the symbol of Kelemvor.  Outside, a middle-aged half-elf in gray robes is peeling a potato into a wooden bucket.  As you approach, he rises and says,
"Well met, friends.  I am Daeron Feilus, priest of Kelemvor and caretaker of the Bloodstone Cemetery.  Are you here to visit, or do you have other business?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:45, Sat 22 Mar 2008.

"Other business," said Talvaroff, "We have reason to believe a grave robbery is going to take place here tonight.

"And we mean to stop it." Zar'Da said quietly from under the hood of his cloak.

Thamol decides to stay quite.  He not sure saying such things openly are good thing but the other know how deal with other people better then he does.

The man folds his hands, and looks down on the ground pensively.  At last, he says,
"It is standard procedure to put wards on the graves of the dead, especially those who wish to take valuable possessions with them, or as mementos from the survivors.  A needless vanity, but fancied by the rich and powerful.  However, I cannot use such Power.  My superior, Father Alexei, is attending the funeral rites of a general who was stationed in Vaasa.  He will not be back for several days, and therefore fresh graves are unprotected.
"No one has departed Faerun recently, except for Boris Akhmetov.  He was a relative of the King, and a great hunter, and friend to all who were hungry.  Many was the time that he put his life in terrible danger to slay some great beast, and then give all its flesh to the poor and destitute to eat, in a grand feast.  He died to the tusks of the Boar of Lonely Peak earlier this week, and in his dying breath he made his wish to have the spear that killed his foe buried with him.  This was done, as who are we to deny the wishes of the dying?  It is this spear, I guess, that the grave robbery is for.  It is of immense age and antique craft, and may be a relic of some manner."

"A dieing creature wish should be honored if does not effect anybody else in evil way."
The elf answer show his respect for cleric and for the died.
"It is possible this is target or they may be up to some other no good.  Would you be kind enought to show us the grave?"

Listening to the taller ones speak Penville shakes his head slowly, "It's a bit of a waste isn't it? I mean if it's a good spear and all whats a dead body going to do with it? It just seems like it's going to attract more and more interest and likely from people who are best suited not to have a spear of power."

He'd been around death, he knew dead bodies didn't need weapons. Unless they were living dead or the undead, but then they tried to kill him, so they didn't need weapons for that either. Halfling logic dictated weapons and the dead don't mix, unless you're sending a deadie dead again.

Talvaroff rested his hand thoughtfully on the hilt of his sword.  He had never thought about it very much, but he had always assumed that if he died, he would have his weapons buried with him as well.  It always seemed fitting.
However, he said nothing, as he waited for the priest and for his friends to decide what they were to do next.

"Mayhaps it would serve better to be extracted and placed in a museum, or maybe a memorial of this man."

Daeron shook his head.
"No.  To expose the bones of the deceased to the sun again is sacrilege.  It is against the Code of the Lord of the Dead.  Even for such a purpose as safekeeping the spear, I would not unearth Boris Akhmetov again."

"And I would not ask you to do such a thing.  Once a creature is layed to rest that is where it must stay."
One this Thamol seems ready to back the cleric up agaist the rest of the party.
"It seems our roles is to protect the grave so that it is left alone until your friend returns to cast the spell on it."