The bandits are in disarray and are sitting with feet propped on crates around a fire.

A makeshift cell houses a large animal that is sleeping on a straw bed, the area wreaks of scat and ammonia

One on the men greet you both
“Heard that troll nearly did you in.  Was a heck of a tall tale told about it.  Why don’t you two tell us what happened.”

Dovan
“Heard a troll was coming, so I decided to take it on.  That is about it.”

"Don't be so modest," Filarion says with a laugh and a slap on the human's shoulder. "There he was, on top of the pitch wagon," the elf says starting the story, "while I and some of the other men tried to get the beast into position. Then Dovan here knocks the barrel over, and, like a idiot, lits it on fire."

"Blows himself, the wagon, and the troll to pieces. If I hadn't've been there, he would have killed himself. Pretty risky, but he got the job done. If it hadn't been for his idea in the first place, who knows if that thing would have showed up here. It probably would have eventually. A troll can do allot of damage before it's felled, that's for sure."

Idk if you want me to roll anything. Everything I said was the truth. At least up to this point.

The survivors of the foray nod in agreement

Dovan
“My understanding is a band of trolls pose a risk to us here and we cannot exactly lite the fort on fire in hopes of killing them.  Only real route I see is the tactics the dragon hunters use.  Large bolts to pin them, teams of horses to drag them into fires ready to burn hot enough to destroy them.  I do not want to do it the hard way again.”

The men offer drinks and a hearty laugh

“Most everyone left to raid the Traders compound, some of us disagreed that it would be bad for charging a toll for passage.”

Dovan winks at you
“True enough repeat customers are better than dead ones.”

Filarion keeps quiet to let the bandits speak.

OCC: my plan is to gather some info before making my way to the Stag Lord's living quarters for recon

The bandits seem amazed that anyone knows anything about dragon hunters, but Dovan is very mysterious, and it is as likely as not he has some experience in any number of things.

It is also apparent that the Staglord himself has went with the main force that went out to attack Oleg's

OCC: Are there any guards? Do you want me to roll a Perception?

The bandits remaining at the fort are standard ones, except the obvious fallen Paladin

No one is really on guard duty, mostly poking the fire and drinking...

Filarion walks around, grabbing himself a drink as he does so before finding himself at the Stag Lord's room. Looking about, he skipped into the area before his living quarters.

OCC: I'm double checking that no one's watching me before I move into z7.05:34, Today: Filarion Petxalim rolled 4 using 1d20+1 with rolls of 3.  Perception.

Welp. . ..

No one notices as you step away from the circle of the fire...

Dovan decides to talk a bit more about battling monsterous creatures...

“For dragons you need chain and trolls also, rope can pull them in, but whatever locks them in place for burning needs to survive the fire.  The block and tackle must be safely away.  Plan to lose a tree for each troll burned, or to set our own deep heavy poles into the ground. Lots of work but we should set a couple in the meantime.”

Sneaking around....

Thick layers of animal hides insulate
this room’s walls. In one corner
rests a ragged bed draped with
threadbare silks and thick furs.
On the floor, three stout chests
serve as furniture, cluttered with
empty liquor bottles. A few more
bottles lie scattered about the floor, leaving the
room reeking of stale alcohol.

Is there an open path to the chests or do the bottle litter everywhere?

You believe you can aviod the empty bottles and do so easily.
You encounter a locked chest.....

Looking at the other two, he tries to see if they are locked as well.

The chests are locked....and as far as you can tell no one has noticed you left....

Having no ability to open the chests, Filarion takes the hint and leaves. On his way out, he checks through the storage area, curious if there was anything interesting before he started listening to the others.

bump

My bad...Filarion finds a chest that contains the exchanged spoils of years of banditry about 1000 platinum coins...

Filarion decides against taking any of the platinum. It would be partially his in due time. This was as good a time as any to start feeling out the fallen paladin so he starts looking for him.

The former Paladin is easy to spot as he pokes the fire with a stick having little motivation for anything and a chip on his shoulder

He notices your eyes upon him....

Filarion moves towards the fallen paladin with his most winning smile. "Hail and well met," the elf says as he walks up. "I am Filarion Petxalim, a warrior newly arrived. Dovan said that I should try to introduce myself to everyone here and get to know them better."

“Not much point in that this is limbo or pergatory, or just an existence.  Nothing to say but it is...”

"Ahh," he says with a broad smile, "but even they have denizens with their own machinations. You seem more experienced than the other ragamuffins around here, are you the Stag Lord's right hand man?"

“Seems to be how I have ended up, here in the armpit of the earth.”

He nods, "What if I told you that I overheard rumors that there were," he looked around for noisy persons that might overhear them talking, "talking of revolting against the Stag Lord?"

The man offers a small chuckle
“Yeah nearly to a man they talk about having their own crew or if they were in charge how it would be different, sounds like more of the same.  Dovan might could keep them in line, but that one…”
He just shakes his head side to side