The grizzled fisherman ponders the question for a few seconds, before responding, "Yes, we can get them out of the city. In a fishing boat, we could deliver them a few leagues in either direction along the coast. We'd need a merchantman to get them all the way home, though."

"What about the galleys?" Overmark asks. "Jet Spear and Sailfish?"

"Well, yes. We could use those. I think I could supply enough men to sail at least one of them." Breakwater replies.

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This message was last edited by the GM at 23:56, Sat 20 Aug 2016.

Day 10 of the Occupation

Day breaks, cold and grey over Balefyre. The rain has stopped, but the red dawn promises more to come.

Full Rest completed.

The party, including its new guests, dines on a simple cold breakfast. Shortly thereafter, Lenore and Jurvis leave the safehouse to gather the rest of the Four's baggage from Balint House, now deemed unsafe in anticipation of an anticipated Bloodforged crackdown.

They return about two hours later, both looking rather perturbed.

"Where to start?" Lenore begins. "Someone broke into Balint House, poked around a bit. They didn't leave a mess, but I recognized the signs. I couldn't tell if they took anything, but someone was looking for something." She holds up the Bag of Holding. "I got the rest of your stuff. You should look through it, see if anything's missing."

Lenore nods at Jurvis and former watchman commences his own report, "Good news and bad news. It looks like the albino thinks the prison break was an inside job. He's clapped the two dozen Firewatch that he kept on in chains, including that traitorous bastard, D'Kord. That's the good news, I suppose. The bad news is that he's shut down all the city's meeting places- taverns, guild houses, even the Pit; put 'em under guard. And that's not all. He's taken hostages- five citizens for every Bloodforged killed or wounded last night- about sixty people, all told. Word is, he's gonna kill half of 'em as reprisal, hold on to the rest as insurance. I think he means to send a message, maybe sweat out the Commandant. And there's Redcloaks all over the streets, this morning. We barely made it back. It's not lookin' good."


Your Turn.

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This message was last edited by the GM at 23:58, Sat 20 Aug 2016.

"Hm."  Nicolai accepts Lenore's report and the Bag of Holding with a bland acknowledgement.  "I'm not surprised.  We're not public figures on the Commandant's level but we're recognizable enough.  Especially as a group."

He sets the knapsack on a table.  "We'll take inventory.  You weren't followed, and you checked to see if any sort of ritual link had been added."  It's inflected as a statement, meant to reassure the rest of the assemblage of the quality of Lenore's tradecraft.  The woman tilts her head in acknowledgement of both the accuracy of his observation and the reason he's voiced it aloud.

"The hostages are an escalation I didn't expect this early," he admits as Jurvis winds down.  "The question is whether they're actually going to be killed or whether they're bait."

He whistles a brief sliding melody while, under the table, he twists the bronze ring on his right hand.  There's a rush of wings outside the window and two ravens alight on the sill.  Nicolai tosses them a couple of scraps of breakfast.  "Sixty people, guarded by Redcloaks.  Find them.  Count the guards," he says to the birds in the liquid tones of Primordial.  It's a wholly unnecessary piece of theatrics - the real communication with the corvids is through the ring's magic, not speech in any particular tongue - but he's loath to reveal this trick's actual source.

"Regardless, I don't think we can let this stand," he resumes as the ravens chuckle and take flight.  The truth is that he's perfectly willing to call Kreyg's bluff - and let the city erupt if the captain does begin executing prisoners - but that probably won't play well for any sort of long-term influence.  "If we can work loose a thread from the delegations, that's still a good play, but this is our new focus..."

"If he's done his research," Corros says regarding the hostages, "they're bait.  Someone has filled him in enough to know that we're not going to sit back and let him execute innocent people.  Whether or not he's going to do it almost doesn't matter.  Of course we're going to try and stop it.  The question is where are they, and how are we going to do it."  It's tempting to add a piece of a little piece about how the nobles in Silverleaf would have done it, separating the hostages into two groups, one to murder, one to hold in reserve, and not deciding which until the last second, killing the group that proved the most vulnerable.  The Eleventh Finger, it turned out, made the same decision regarding his own hostages.  That would be uncomfortably close to admitting his role in watching a city burn, and he's not quite ready to make that admission.  Not yet.

"To tell the truth," he continues, "I'm wondering if we aren't better making a statement first, that we release our prisoners and that we can hit them before they can hit us.  I can get us in to a difficult place, or at least me and someone else.  Somewhere we're not supposed to be.  Or somewhere we're not expected to be."

"Where, at this moment, would it be most helpful for Commander Overmark to be, to fan the flames of resistance? And show just how bad at this the Bloodforged are going to be?"

Gronk listens intently, aware the whole time that plotting and scheming is not his forte. His companions, however, take to intrigue like fish to water. He's happy that he's fallen in with such smart people. An idea does occur to him- rather, he remembers something that Lenore said earlier, before the prison break.

"What if we had hostages of our own? The foreigners, I mean. Lenore said, without them, Zardis is fucked."

-

It doesn't take long for the head raven to return. Apparently, the hostages weren't hard to find. The others hear only sharp squawks and throaty chortles. Nic hears,

"A huddle of men, women, and children, out in the open in the keep yard. Twenty Redcloaks in the yard. Twenty more, at least, on the walls. Ten at the gate."

The rest of the conspiracy (of ravens) trickles in to report on the location of other Bloodforged detachments throughout the city. (OOC: These are indicated in red next to the relevant locales in the Gazeteer. Bloodforged detachments within the same ward should be considered, to some degree, mutually supporting. Reaction time will vary.)

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This message was last edited by the GM at 19:19, Sat 27 Aug 2016.

"Four against fifty are formidable odds" Jenna says quietly when the ravens' speech is deciphered. Clearly they could not stand by idly when innocents were threatened, particularly as the reason those innocents were in danger was a direct result of their actions, but trying to take on a force more than ten times their number in open battle was unlikely to serve any purpose other than perhaps getting them all killed or captured. As a Priestess of Arma Jenna was prepared for the fact that she might have to sacrifice her life for the Goddess - acutely aware of it after their last visit to the Keep - but the Warrior would not wish that sacrifice to be in vain.

Your idea has merit." The slim blonde says, turning towards Gronk. "But even if we succeed in securing hostages of our own, we know not whether the albino will abide by any terms that are agreed. On the contrary, I think double crossing us would be second nature to him. And then there is the problem of what to do if he calls our hand? He may be prepared to put his hostages to the sword. Are we?" It was a rhetorical question of course.

"He's trying to get us to freeze or do something heroic," Corros says.  "If you change rash into heroic.  Does he want an audience?  A statement?  Look, according to our raven friends, there are twelve Bloodforged holding the river ward.  Twelve.  Surely we can deal with twelve soldiers, yeah?  Especially as they are in two groups, and then we have the poorest citizens of Balefyre, the meanest drunks who have been held back from their beer, able to make trouble.  We start to stir the city, the Albino is going to have bigger problems than hostages."


Of course, so might we.  The first stone would fall and then where would they be?

"From there we pick another target, another group, isolated, protecting something the citizens want, and pick that group off.  Then another."

Jenna shifts slightly in her seat. "We can likely deal with twelve of them, yes. If the Commandant can rally the former Fire Watch who were dismissed to her cause we can likely deal with others at the same time, the half dozen in one or other of the bars. But what if the albino then makes good on his threat and puts some of his hostages to the sword? Or all of them and then his men seize some more?"

The Priestess looks uncomfortable at openly disagreeing with her lover. But it is one of the tenets of her faith that a Priestess of Arma defends the weak and protects the innocent. Of course, it is also a tenet of her faith that she should devote herself fully to Arma. Once again she can feel the struggle within her, between her faith and her feelings for Corros. Jenna is scared, scared that one day that struggle will become an open conflict.

Corros nods at Jenna.  He can hear the tension in her words and it echoes a little through him as well.  Not as much at her words, he can live with the disagreement, but at fear that she might want to rush the hostage takers.

We won't abandon the hostages, he sends silently to Jenna, committed to that promise.  Honestly, he would really rather be back in a bed with her than plotting a rescue, but he imagines she would be rather distracted with the imminent doom of the innocent.

"Do we know who the hostages are?  People off the street?  Members of powerful families?"  Corros waits then starts again.  "The reason I ask is, if the river ward turns and they are from the wealthy, it does the albino no good in killing them.  It makes him look weak.  At that point he needs them alive for protection."  Corros pauses again and swallows.

"Unless he's a bloodthirsty monster who would kill them because he feels like it.  If that's the case we better start looking at options for getting into the keep twice in one day."

As his corvine accomplices report their findings, Nicolai digs a scrap of charcoal out of the fireplace's perimeter, clears the table, and sketches a map of the city - and the occupiers' dispositions - upon the wood.  "Twenty men covering the bidding delegations at the Mermaid's Tale.  That's enough for a full security detail.  Commander, sergeant, three shifts of six each.  One on duty, the second off duty but probably on standby for trouble, the third sleeping."  He rubs his chin.  "Add in the delegations themselves and every room is packed.  So the regulars have been run out of the place.  Vulnerabilities: food, privy... and some of the troops are probably going out for women when they're off duty.  I doubt the delegations want that going on in the next room."

He taps the sigil he's sketched to represent the locus of Balefyre's underworld.  "Another twenty in the Pit.  They're locking down Toesplitter's business.  We can't do anything about that.  Too much noise.

"Small groups in other places.  Those show us what's important to him.  Sleeping quarters - there's not enough room in the keep, so he's putting his troops in the inns and brothels.  Probably not paying rack rate for that.  And he's putting squads on the key commercial buildings.  The corporals and sergeants there are going to be the smart and literate ones."

He leans back and studies the map.  "Let's take a third of his remaining men off the board and see what he still thinks is important to protect.  We know where they're sleeping and eating.  I suspect Bojidar knows several formulae to induce the galloping shits.  For that matter, if we spread a different ailment at each inn over a couple of days, it won't immediately look like alchemic warfare.

"I'll admit I'm at a loss as to how to deal with the hostages.  I have an idea but it's still murky..."

A half-orc with an uncontrollable case of the giggles is not something that one sees but once in a lifetime, if ever. Gronk tries to stifle his laughter but that only makes it worse. Every time he catches his breath, the thought picture of mercs shitting themselves uncontrollably sets him off again. It's some time before he regains his composure,

Wiping tears from his eyes, he apologizes to his companions.

"I'm sorry... I just... the Redcloaks...covered... in their own shit!" and then a fresh wave of histerical laughter overcomes him again.

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This message was last edited by the player at 00:42, Tue 30 Aug 2016.

Lenore clarifies some of her earlier intelligence. "Far as we can tell, most of the hostages were taken in the Gate Ward, from homes and shops around the keep."

-

The normally all-business Commandant can't help but flash a brief smile at the burly gladiator's unbridled mirth.

"Yes, well... there's some danger to an overly complicated plan- too many moving parts. But, perhaps there's a place for everything suggested so far. The Bloodforged garrison is scattered about the city. Detachments can be isolated and defeated in detail."

Overmark looks questioningly at Jurvis. The big watchman responded with a resolute nod.

"We- the true Fire Watch- can help with that."

She turns her grey eyes to Breakwater. The fisherman cocks his head and responds with a half-shrug.

"The League might be able to tackle one of the smaller groups, at least tie them down for a while."

Overmark nods approvingly, then continues, "Romanelli's alchemist friend could help us indispose at least some of the other mercenaries, if it can be arranged. That leaves the matter of the hostages. I'm not willing to write them off as casualties of war- not when my escape put them in harm's way in the first place. Something must be done to remove them from danger. There's merit to Gronk's suggestion. If we held the delegates, we'd arguably have the greater leverage. Without them, Kreyg's plan to sell the city to the highest bidder falls apart. But they are well guarded, and the harbor ward is apparently crawling with Redcloaks."

Overmark makes eye contact with Corros. "You said something about getting into a difficult place. I assume you meant magically? Could you get inside the Mermaid's Tale and get back out with one of the emissaries?"

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This message was last edited by the GM at 01:59, Tue 30 Aug 2016.

"Yes," Corros says slowly in answer to Overmark's question.  The warlock doesn't turn his head, doesn't look at Jenna, afraid of what he'd see in her eyes.  He's not exactly built for kidnapping.  "We'd have to know precisely, I mean exactly, which room the emissary was in, yeah?  I could step through a door, grab the guy and step back.  Hopefully he's asleep.  That'd make it a lot easier."

Corros strokes his chin while he thinks about it.  "It would certainly help keep the albino on his toes.  The plan has that going for it.  Especially if the loyal Firewatch start messing up the odds."

Jenna has been listening to the conversation as it unfolds, her head now turning in Corros' direction, noting that he is looking away from her. "Just a moment, Corros. How exactly does this work? You said you could get two people into a place. You and someone else. How many can you get out? Two as well?" The Priestess rises from her chair, walks around his, to face him, so that he cannot look away, at least not without making it obvious that is what he is doing.

"You are not going alone." That was said as statement, not question. But the question it did beg was that if two went in, how many could come back out again?

 Jenna's direct presence in his line of sight takes evasion as a tactic right out of Corros' option list.  There is a brief moment where he considers using his considerable charm to his advantage, but the look in Jenna's eyes tells him that honesty is his best option.  That, and he, in fact, will not be going alone.  Maybe that directness is part of what draws him to the priestess.

"It's, uh, not that easy." The warlock licks his lips and shifts in the chair, eyes held by Jenna's. "It's me plus one.  That's it, each way.  If I take someone with me, they're staying put until I can recover to come back.  Or they," you, "will be fighting their way free.  Alone."

Jenna pauses for a moment, folds her arms across her chest, her eyes holding Corros' gaze. Once again she can feel her mind drifting back to the frantic moments in the Keep when she had hurled herself into the heart of the battle. She had not been acting rationally then, had been caught up in the battle that had been raging, every nerve in her body on fire.

"I want to go with you." This time was different, there was a calmness in her mind, a rationality. a different sense of urgency, one that whilst pressing presented an opportunity to discuss the decision before it was made. She knew that the time it would take him to recover was impossible to say for certain, that it could be hours before he was able to come back for her - Jenna did not think of it was 'whoever went with him'

But she knew that he would come back for her. That thought is foremost in her mind, spilling out, no doubt as clear to the Warlock as if it was written on parchment. Whatever happened he would come back for her.

"And if guards come checking that all is well who is likely to arouse the least suspicion if discovered in an emissary's chamber in the middle of the night?" She nods towards Gronk. "A half orc pit fighter?" Her eyes turn to Nicolai. "A rogue?" The Priestess looks back towards Corros. "Or a woman who can tell the Redcloaks that the emissary is 'busy', is not to be disturbed and they should take themselves elsewhere?"

Nicolai chuckles at Gronk's giggling fit, then nods to Overmark.  "Agreed, Commandant.  But there's a difference between an overly complicated plan and several simple plans executed simultaneously.  My intent is to keep pressure on Kreyg, forcing him to deal with multiple problems at once: chirurgical needs, an active insurgency, local disquiet regarding the prisoners, the care of the prisoners themselves, and the loss of foreign support.  All the better if some of those items look like coincidence rather than enemy action.

"Patrols and detachments being defeated is one thing.  Patrols and detachments simply disappearing," he makes an offhanded gesture and palms the piece of charcoal with which he was sketching on the table, "is another level of trouble entirely.  Does Balefyre have any history we could exploit for that?  Vengeful spirits, hungry ghosts, neighborhoods known for mysterious disappearances or mutilations?  Aside from," he makes a flapping motion with his fingers that ends with the charcoal reappearing in his other hand, "the Ravens?"  A momentary smirk flits across his face.

He falls silent as Corros and Jenna spar, then clears his throat.  "I prefer to think of myself as an expediter, Jenna.  Or a spy," he rolls his eyes melodramatically, "if you must be vulgar.  'Rogue' has such dastardly connotations.  May as well call me 'highwayman' and be done with it.

"But, with all due respect, you're a damned poor liar.  And your proposed ruse will hold only if the emissary - whichever one we decide to take first - prefers women."  He shrugs.  "We need to choose a target and Gronk or I may be better-suited to getting out of the Mermaid's Tale."

He arches his back, bringing a soft crackle of cartilage.  "Ahh.  So.  Preliminary assignments, if I may."  He raises an eyebrow and pauses for any immediate dissent.  "Gronk: go talk to Bojidar about formulae we can introduce into the mercenaries' food and drink.  Get prices.  I'll tell you where to find him. 

"Jenna: Kreyg is Tokari-trained.  That will influence his organizational and tactical models for his troops.  Write down everything you can remember.  If you can get to the temple, see if they have any information to add to that. 

"Commandant, Councilman: keep building our picture of Kreyg's operations and start getting your respective people ready for surgical strikes.  Think on how we can make disappearances happen.  We may need to assign some people to clean up after those skirmishes to remove the evidence.

"Jurvis, Lenore: get the word out that the Commandant is free.  Start wild rumors about who - or what - accomplished that.  If people are talking about these 'Ravens,' feel free to embellish.

"Corros, you and I will work on targeting the emissaries.  Let's talk to people who have connections to the Mermaid's Tale, see what they can tell us about what's going on in there and who's whom.  Sleeping arrangements would be lovely to know.  And maybe we'll pay the Vanders a visit and see what the emissaries are saying to the local elite."

"Am I missing anything?"

Gronk acknowledges his assignment with a nod. Shopping's not his forte, but it's a job he can do, and it doesn't sound like he'll be missing out on any of the action. Trying to be helpful, he adds,

"We stayed at the Mermaid's Tale our first night in town. Nice place. I can't remember the manager's name, but he seemed happy to have us there- kicked someone out so that we could have the room, remember? And the chambermaid, the redhead- can't remember her name either- she was nice too. I bet they'd be willing to help, if we could get in touch with them, that is."

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This message was last updated by the player at 01:41, Wed 07 Sept 2016.

Uncertain as to whether he's being serious or not, Jenna shrugs her shoulders when Nicolai describes how he thinks of himself. "As you please, Nicolai. No offence was intended. And as for my inability to lie, I'll take that as a compliment." It was true, the Priestess was untrained in the arts of deception, something that she doubted very much could be said of the self proclaimed 'expediter' who sat opposite her. And besides, the young woman was unsure whether she should feel disappointed or relieved at the suggestion that someone other than her should accompany Corros. It would likely take very little to go wrong for whoever filled that role to find themselves taking Overmark's place in the dungeons of the Keep.

She's still musing on that when Nicolai moves on, begins issuing assignments. It's enough to cause a brow to arch, although she utters no vocal protest, simply nods her head. Clearly the expediter was well within his comfort zone dealing with this sort of work, where equally obviously Jenna was not. And so she is content to follow his lead for the moment.

"It sounds like a plan, yeah?"  Corros sounds and feels a little relieved.  He would have taken Jenna with him, but leaving her behind and in danger would have been a challenge for him.  And Corros really isn't even the hero type.  In all honesty, though, he would like the opportunity to spend the day with his lady, even in this midst of a riot/brewing rebellion.  Still, handling the latter makes the first easier.  Maybe it's his youth that gives him enough optimism to believe that this can all be handled rapidly even if prior experience has shown that pushing cities around takes time.

"We can focus on the emissaries," Corros tells Nic,  "it'll certainly get the albino's attention.  And the staff of the Mermaid's Tale," he doesn't say the good looking redhead, "should be easy to find.  Maybe even eager to help."

"What about the prisoners?" Gronk asks, referring to the four mercenaries currently lying hooded and trussed up in the back room.

-

At the Safe House

The conspiracy slowly breaks up, each member making last-minute preparations to undertake his or her assigned task. Nic's ravens will serve as go-betweens (as suggested by Overmark), linking the various scattered teams. Although only Nic can communicate directly with the birds, they can still carry simple written messages from place to place, person to person, and Nic quickly teaches them the names of each of the assembled conspirators.

The rain-washed streets are empty of Bloodforged patrols, their commander opting to seize and hold strategic ground in various parts of the city instead of impeding movement throughout. Whether its a sound decision or tactical misstep remains to be seen, but the Four intend on making sure it is the latter.

A cold sun dodges puffy white clouds against a pale blue backdrop of sky. It's a bit nippy out, especially closer to the harbor, but it looks like the rains are taking a break, at least for today.

Tension fills the air like a thick fog. A few Balefyreans are out an about, testing the waters, as it were, moving purposefully to and from their destinations, not loitering, giving the Bloodforged detachments clustered about the city's meeting spaces a wide berth, and keeping their distance from strangers.


Nic and Corros

The two city boys set up to surveil the Mermaid's Tale, loitering under the eaves of the nearby, pearl-roofed Temple of Mera. Breakwater accompanies them, the Queen of the Deep's house being a likely spot where he can get into contact with his FA officers. The grizzled Fisherman disappears into the sanctuary, leaving Nic and Corros to spy from the shadows around the entryway.

The area around the inn is fairly lousy with Redcloaks. At least a dozen are in plain site before the front entrance. There are more fronting the nearby Red Lantern and, around the corner and down the street from that house of ill repute, still more milling around Three Sheets and the Breakers.

As the watchers settle in, a liveried coach arrives at the inn, emblazoned with the double-V monogram of the Vander family. A richly dressed man, wearing the royal colors of Varimor, exits the Mermaid's Tale and boards the coach, accompanied by a man wearing expensive fighting leathers and oozing deadly competence. The two Vander footmen step down from the running boards and their places are taken by a pair of Bloodforged. A third mercenary, armed with a crossbow, climbs up to the sit beside the driver. The coach moves off, headed east, most likely towards the neck and on to the Keep. A be-turbaned figure watches from one of the upstairs windows facing the street. Given his fine clothing, the man is likely an emissary from one of the Caliphates.

It's going to be difficult to contact the Mermaid's proprietor, or any of his staff, for that matter, unless they happen to leave the premises.


Jenna

Jenna makes her way, unmolested, to the temple of Arma. The temple doorway offers a clear view of Fire Watch Keep's entrance gate, being as it is across the wide east-west street. Next to the doorway, someone, presumably Brother Jaro, has tried to scrub a crudely painted red axe, symbol of the Reaver, off of the pale grey marble of the temple's façade. Incensed by the desecration, Jenna shoulders her way roughly through the front doors. As usual, Brother Jaro is there, quietly tending to an otherwise empty sanctuary.

"Strength and honor," Brother Jaro greets the young priestess.

"I can't tell you much more than you already know," the white-haired priest explains. Jenna had already outlined what she'd recalled about Tokar from her studies- that it is a small, independent Duchy occupying a particularly mountainous patch of the arid western shore of the Southern Continent, about two-hundred miles southwest of Freeport. The Tokari mountains aren't particularly tall, but they're forbiddingly jagged, covering nearly all of the kingdom's territory, from the interior almost right down to the coast, bordered to the south by the reputedly impassable Dune Sea, and the myth-shrouded Darklands beyond. The kingdom's half-dozen or so major arable valleys are controlled by feudal lords, of which the Kreyg family was one.

Brother Jaro picks up the thread there, fleshing out the history of Zardis Kreyg. A little over ten turns ago, the Kreygs attempted to overrule the Grand Duke and place one of their own on the ducal throne of Tokar, but were foiled- those Kreygs (and their retainers) who didn't perish during the rebellion were put to the sword; a few managed to escape, settling into a relatively comfortable exile in Freeport. When the money ran out, the surviving Kreygs had to find other work. Zardis, a knight of some renown when the coup collapsed, became a mercenary officer, rising to command a company that he rechristened the Bloodforged. It has since built quite a reputation.

Being a particularly mountainous land, most of Tokar doesn't lend itself to cavalry combat. Therefore, Tokari men-at-arms are almost exclusively foot soldiers, and Tokari mercenaries are prized as light infantry and skirmishers, lightly armored, agile, and proficient with spear, sword, and axe. The Bloodforged company, however, is made up of fighters from all around the Great Inner Sea, most being demobilized Varimorian soldiers. The Bloodforged tend to fight in slightly heavier armor, often supplementing their employers' less experienced levies of spearmen and bowmen, and acting as elite shock troops.


Gronk

Following Nic's instructions, Gronk arrives at Bojidar's, order in hand. It takes a while for the weary White Alchemist to answer his door, unknown half-orcs being infrequent and, judging by the delay, unwelcome patrons. A small hatch in the heavy, iron-bound oak door finally opens, purple eyes narrowed in suspicion peering out from the shadows within.

"Romanelli sent me." Gronk says through the tiny, eye-level wicket gate. A delicately-fingered hand extends from the open hatch, into which Gronk presses the folded parchment containing Nic's order. A few seconds later, the door cracks open, and the half-orc is ushered into a dim foyer, where he is bid to sit and wait while the elven alchemist crafts the requested super-purgatives. An hour or so later, Bojidar returns, bottle in hand and a list of instructions for the potent tincture's optimal use. Gronk pays the man and departs, heading back towards the safe house. He doesn't notice the two men following him.

Party Purse -200GP


Your Turn.

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This message was last edited by the GM at 01:11, Thu 22 Sept 2016.

"Not a bad spot, all things..." Corros says to Nic from their perch under the eaves of the temple.  It's the kind of spot he would have used to start the search for a safe place to sleep back in Silverleaf: temples have the advantage of lots of nooks and crannies far from prying eyes.  If they weren't here spotting their enemy, he might have become drowsy out of sheer nostalgia. The half-elf's eyebrows rise with the arrival of the Vander carriage, but he doesn't comment on it.  There are too many pieces of strategy in motion in Balefyre at the moment, and he doesn't want to start making up stories based on what he's seeing.  But what he is seeing is that there is an emissary in a window whose entourage just got a lot smaller.

"I don't know Nic.  I can spot that guy from here," he tilts his head at the window.  "Wanna be careless and grab him now?  Daylight raid and all.  If we can knock him out, and keep him out, we might be able to get away clean, yeah?"