It occurs to Jarder that the high priest might have been so forthcoming because he expects them to die many times along the way. Acid. Quagmire. The Shadow Lord's legions. He was probably right.

He waits to see if their captive has anything else to say before finding a corner of the cottage in which to unfurl his bedroll and close his eyes. It was time to clock out.

”I was there mere weeks ago.”

”I fear you misunderstand my motives, priest,” the high priest tells Patch in a matter of fact tone. ”You and your band of adventurers are certainly capable. You spirited me away without alerting any of the lancers stationed in Geron. You’re clever and extremely courageous.”

“But the black serpent’s forest? Gareth Minar? They are not simple villages filled with soldiers bored from waiting in garrison for too long. True power rests there. And the Shadow Lord will not brook the interference of the likes of you. Should you insist on venturing there, you will not return.”

”It is,” Renia agrees with a nod, ”Though I’d much rather be putting a few Denagothian lancers to the sword.”

Greyband smiles. "Patience. This is not a mission to indulge battle-lust. If we succeed here, we will win a victory for our homeland greater than any melee."

“That may or may not be true, but either way, it is not your concern.”  Neuken lets out a contented sigh.  “I am satisfied that he has told us the truth.”

"Being honest and being useful are not synonymous." Killian chimed in. The elf moved closer to the priest. "Yes, the dangers ahead are great. And you speak the truth in assuming our odds of survival to be quite low. Now, if you really want to be helpful, tell us how those that serve the Shadow Lord pass through the forest unmolested. Because, your survival may depend on it..."

The sharpness of Killian's threat rouses Jarder from his incipient drowsiness. Sometimes the high priest used words he did not know such as "brook" and his tone, frankly, was off-putting--too much like, well, a high priest of some intolerably evil entity.

He shifts his position so it is a fraction more upright than before and then awaits the man's reply.
This message was lightly edited by the player at 22:43, Thu 14 May 2020.

The priest arches a single eyebrow at Killian’s question. ”It is simple really. Only a very few travel to Gareth Minar. The dragon that rules the Lothenar Forest knows each of them by their scent. Those it recognizes are allowed safe passage. Those it does not are destroyed.”

Killian nods, then turns to the others. "Perhaps we should take him with us then?"

"Or render him into a perfume?" offers Jarder.

“Or let him go.”  Neuken shrugs.

"What about the stronghold?  He must be able to tell us something about it!  If he wants to keep his head, I mean."

Orin was a little frustrated with Neuken's rather high-level questioning.  Through a forest, past a dragon, then to the stronghold.  Great for a children's fable but a few real details might go a long way.  Way the stronghold on a mountain?  In the middle of a lake?  Deep in a mine?  These all seemed reasonable and obvious questions to the dwarf.

”Even were I to accompany you, it would not provide you protection from the dragon,” the high priest says, “When newcomers have been granted passage through the forest by the Shadow Lord, Vitriol meets them at the edge of the woods the first time they make the journey. So it was for myself and my two guards when I first ascended to the position of High Priest. The dragon made it clear that only we three could pass through unharmed. Were I to bring another, someone who had not been specifically granted passage by the Shadow Lord, the dragon would see them killed.”

The priest turns to regard Orin. ”Gareth Minar is an ancient tower, built on the side of a mountain. None know its origin, though runic inscriptions throughout the stronghold suggest that it once was the home of a sorceress who sought to bind and master creatures from the lower planes. What became of her is a mystery.”

“Upon drawing in sight of the tower, you will see that it is surrounded by an unmoving bank of fog. The fog’s fumes are lethal. I believe that the forces in the tower have been given something that grants them immunity. The mists are parted for those that have permission to enter. I would strongly suggest you find a remedy of your own, lest you perish before ever setting foot inside.”

The priest smiles. ”However, there is another solution that I am aware of. One that I would be willing to provide to you, in exchange for my freedom.”

"Freedom? You are bound to your duties of the Shadow Lord, that is not freedom," rebuked the elf. "But at least we are getting somewhere. Please, do share."

”By now, word of my capture has already spread through Geron. The news will reach the Shadow Lord shortly, if it has not already. If you lot do not slay me, my life will be forfeit if I am discovered in Denagoth. Suspicion of betrayal is enough to prompt the Shadow Lord and his minions to put someone to the sword.”

“If I am able to flee south, perhaps I will find a place to thrive in the barbarian lands, should Idris’ favor be upon me.”

He raises his eyebrows. ”I have named my price. If you mean to slay me, or deliver me north, to the Shadow Lord’s forces, I lose nothing by my silence.”

Patch smiled. "Well played High Priest. What a acolyte of Amun Tor you would make... don't entirely rule out conversion for there may be hope for you yet..."

He stood from where he'd been slouching near the doorframe. "If we were to pull off the impossible and rid the land of the Shadow Lord... then we'd be saving not only thousands of innocent lives, but yours as well, wouldn't we? No Shadow Lord means no one to order your extermination. So really we'd be doing you a great favor... Best not to betray us."

Turning to the others he shrugged, "He's got my curiosity piqued. I'm for it, his freedom that is..."

"If he stays out of our hair after this, that's enough for me. I say a solution for his freedom is enough."

Neuken grins.  “Well played, evil one.  Your tale is plausible enough to justify accepting your bargain, although I’d be a fool to think you weren’t somehow deceiving us.  Again, you have played your cards well.  An admirable gambit.

“I say we accept.”

Orin grumbled into his beard but the open route described by the priest had the ring of truth to it.  And walking openly to the front door, after passing a dragon along the way, was not a winning strategy.

After arguing around in his head, he nodded.  "Agreed," he spat out, resigned to the deal.

"And if you were offed on suspicion of being a rat, that would be yet another invaluable lesson in ... tyranny."

"Let's get this done. And if you can help get it done, I won't have to feel like a murderer in the night."

And what sort of dragon name itself Vitriol? Are there others named Malice and Bile?

The high priest kicks off his left sandal. It lands beside Jarder. ”Cut it open, burglar. Carefully,” he says.

Cutting the sole of the leather sandal open, Jarder finds a folded piece of parchment within it. The paper is brown and somewhat brittle with age.

”The Shadow Lord’s aged steward is almost as old as the tower itself. He also loves his drink. During one of my early visits, I was able to provide him with some extremely strong spirits I had obtained during my travels, which put him promptly to sleep. Amongst his valuables, I found that.”

The parchment is a carefully hand drawn map, which details the landmarks and terrain on the approach to Gareth Minar. The map marks a specific spot on the slope south of the tower where a hidden tunnel may be accessed. The tunnel apparently connects to a series of underground passages beneath the ancient structure. Drawn next to the tunnel’s entrance is a tree stump and a circle, both marked with a symbol of a wyvern in flight.

”The circle is a large, flat stone, with the wyvern painted upon it. It rests beside the stump, which is easier to spot at a distance. The tunnel entrance is beneath the stone. I believe it was not originally meant as a way into the tower, but rather as a means to escape it, were it besieged. But that is only conjecture on my part.”

With Jarder's delicate incision of the high priest's sandal and his subsequent reading of the parchment complete, he chuckles and smiles at Patch.

"Well, that solves one mystery. They mystery of why this man only has one pair of sandals and never goes anywhere without them. He never knows when he might be abducted and might need their contents to bargain for his life."

"You are an opportunistic fellow," he adds, directing this comment to the other priest.

Greyband leaves Renia in charge outside and heads in at this point. "What's the latest, folks?" he says.

Neuken examines the map closely, searching for any sign it could be fake.

The high priest smiles at the compliment. ”One of Idris’ virtues is foresight. Something I’ve sought to practice for many, many years.”

Neuken’s careful study of the map leads him to believe that it is genuine. The age of the document, in particular, speaks against it being a forgery. Neuken also does not perceive or sense any magicks that have been used to alter the drawing.

Greyband’s fellow adventurers share with him all that they have learned and the bargain that has been struck with their captive.