It was raining hard over the small village of Oxguard. Oxguard, while a small village was well travelled as it was on the main road to several major trade towns. The streets were muddy so there was very little traffic. One man, clad in worn heavy plate male armor waded through the mud to the tavern, ignoring the nasty look the bar keep gave him for tracking in the mud.

It was apparent by the way the locals suddenly fell silent that he was well known throughout the village. ”I need volunteers. For long enough has Mayor Edgar terrorized our village. Enough with the high taxes, the harsh penalties for not being able to afford to live under his harsh thumb!” With every statement the locals cheered. ”He took my daughter and several of the other villagers to sell into slavery to pay for his outrageous taxes. I’m storming his manor! Who’s with me?” The locals returned to their drinks. The man sighed. ”You can keep all the gold we liberate from his coffers. I just want my daughter.”

"You had me at storming his manor!" a loud booming voice called out from the corner of the tavern. The source of the reply was a hulking Goliath sitting alone at a table with many weapons on his back/strapped to his sides. The Goliath rose to his feet and walked over to the man who had just entered. "Thanath Thundermaul Thenalekali!" The Goliath boomed in an introductory manner "If you're looking for a fight, I'll be more than happy to help you with that so long as I get the lion's share of aforementioned fighting!".

Ada glanced up from her cups at the loud interruption. Subtlety was evidently not this man's forte. Had she used his tactics, she would have been dead a thousand times over. No matter, she could likely gain useful information from this venture, and her previous employ was now on hold indefinitely.

"Tis a fool who rushes in by himself," she spoke up, her attention seemingly drawn to the goblet she swirled in one hand. "And tis a fool who speaks ill of those in power with such a loud volume should they have no allies to back them up. But perhaps such a fool would be intriguing for now. If you can find an ally with some wits about them, perhaps I shall join your charade. I care naught for your grievances with the mayor's taxation policies, but slavery..." Ada set down the goblet and sighed. "There are some things that I simply do not abide."

Oxguard. The finger of a clawed Red Dragonborn descends upon the surface of a worn-out piece of paper roughly sketched with a piece of charcoal as he exhaled a steamy breath of air. Other eyes peered, curious upon what was written on his rough sketch as he rolled up the paper and hid it into his coat. The caravan had been moving steadily and it was time to stop. The dragonborn knocked the wooden surface of his seat, loud enough that the coachman would hold the reins of his horse and make a stop. "End of the line, Crow Eater?" One of them asked. A smirk emerged his scaly face.

"Just another job. I can smell it. Even in the rain." He gathered the rest of his belongings before paying his due to the coach, a total of five pure gold pieces which jiggled happily inside the coachman's pouch. "Safe travels. Bah'mut's protection aid you in your Journey." The dragonborn turned and proceeded to make his way to the entrance of Oxguard. The rain rendered the village completely barren of life. Doors were closed and no visible light could be seen protruding from the windows of the residential area. The only light to welcome him was the sight of what seems to be the village's one and only tavern or inn.

The perfect place where jobs would be ripe.

The trickle of water was cold to the touch. His hood was no longer providing the dry cover that he needed to remain comfortable and paced himself quickly to the entrance of the tavern with a loud slam of the door. The audience were already captivated in his direction. "What did I do?" The dragonborn exclaimed. "I just arrived here!" He snarled, perhaps failing to have noticed the warrior after him and the goliath.

Tarsaiq was stuck in Oxguard for similar reason why most of the other people in the tavern were – he needed a shelter from the rain. He has been here for a while and the bloody downpour showed no sign of stopping any time soon, which was a problem because he already fleeced all merchants willing to play the dice with him and he was beginning to get bored. Bored Tarsaiq, with addition of alcohol, was a recipe for trouble.

Fortunately, when his boredom began giving way to irritation, an interesting thing happened. A man, clad in plate armour which saw a lot of use, entered the tavern and asked for help against the local Mayor. Now, Tarsaiq wasn’t really concerned with his and other villager’s woes, but there was nothing interesting to do at the moment and he was about to start some trouble anyway. In addition, the old man said anyone who helps was free to loot the manor. So, Tarsaiq will have both fun and gain – it was a win-win situation.

He stood up from his chair, his halberd in his right hand and his left hand on his waist. With head held high and playful smile on his face, he approached the old warrior.

“Good man! I have heard your plight and like some of these fine folk here I am also willing to join your fight! We shall give that scoundrel Mayor a trashing he will remember for as long as he lives!”

Which, now that I am involved, won’t be for long.

Arius had been sitting at the bar for what felt like at least an hour when the boisterous man in ill-kept plate had strode into the tavern with his impromptu plea for civic uprising, and various other peculiar figures in the room had, in turn, sprung up in response.

For his own part, the young knight had no particular business in Oxguard and honestly had never even so much as heard its name aloud until earlier this very day when he'd spoken to the bar keep regarding acquiring adequate accommodations for the night. He'd been traveling for several days and was only forced to stop in the village by the rains and the muddied roads that had come with them.

While listening from the bar, Arius had found little reason to doubt that whoever this Mayor Edgar fellow happened to be, he was every bit the common clay of villainy the armored man was describing, but there was equal chance the mayor's deeds were being legitimized by the Crown. Thus freeing this one man's daughter could potentially lead to the entire village being marched upon and razed to the ground as an example to other such would-be insurrectionist hamlets. Nonetheless, the practice of slavery, even under the auspices of royal authority, was not something Arius's moral code would ever permit.

Rising from his seat to address the armored man at the door, the half-elf finds himself beaten to the punch by a another man, an usually large grey-skin fellow, and also a raven-haired elven woman. The elf at least seemed reasonable in her statements, but the other two men's eagerness towards violence gave Arius a bit of pause before he speaks and also approaches the armored man at the door, "If your intentions are simply those of a father seeking to rescue their child, I would freely offer what aid I can. However, storming this Edgar fellow's manor seems like an excellent way to get both your daughter and whoever else has been taken slain, or perhaps far worse.", giving a sweeping glance between the clearly desperate father and the two seemingly overly enthusiastic male volunteers, "After all, what good are your daughter's freedom and purses filled with blood-stained coins if in a fortnight the king's armies descend upon you and subject every man, woman, and child here to the stocks and gallows?", and not paying too much mind the red dragonborn who seemed somewhat disengaged from the discourse being undertaken.

Little town, it’s a quiet village. Every day like the one before. Little town, full of little people. knowing nothing more. In the dark, in the rain, the pitter-patter striking the thatched rooftops. Houses dimmed with naught a candle lit in sight, windows shuttered tight for fear of the draft. What gentle rain brings to life, so too does a storm invite death. And the storm raged on, the cold bothering the provincial town. So come in, the fires invite you, the laughter and merriment too. By the fireside dry your mud-caked boots, order a round of beer on taps, or a glass of wine if you’re so inclined. Or perhaps you’d care to play at games of chance or ladies all the same, pick your choice and roll the die with lady luck. It wasn’t such a quiet village here was it?

For even in wallowing despair, one must always give a man hope. It is that hope which makes him seek to live another day, to toil under the whip of a harsh master, and to be fed by hunger as a cruel mistress. And hope for men in hard times came by the cups and pints, a promise of an escape, this tavern was the last sanctuary Oxguard had. Even if it was loud, it was a nice enough place, a fair establishment, at least once upon a time. The quality had diminished and the prices increased as the mayor had gotten greedier and greedier. But unlike the mayor, these changes were derived from necessity, not desire, so the owner did their best to treat their customers fairly. Unfortunately, this rapidly became unfeasible. And like the candles in those shuttered windows, the candle of hope grew short, and without any intervention, snuffed out.

Tessa sat to one side of the bar, as close to the fire as she could get away with when others desired the same. She wasn’t from here, the town’s name rang bells but only faintly, so she mostly kept to herself. She wouldn’t normally come to a place like this, you could tell from how she was dressed that she was used to something more refined. Nevertheless, she was glad to have escaped the rain, if not by much.

She sat with an older, somewhat more practically dressed man. The amulet resting against his chest his burden. A clergyman dressed in a simple grey robe, the open book around his neck far from an albatross, but marked him all the same. Kethan, the librarian without a library, a title which had no power here, in this little town with scant a collection of writings one wouldn’t even dare call a bookshelf. But the cleric came not for books or knowledge here in Oxguard, no, he had his charge, a book of his own he carried more burdensome than that holy symbol he openly wore. His brow furrowed in his work, calligraphy pen etching ink across the parchment, with old thin fingers skillfully tracing out each stylized letter. What a pair they made together.

“Kethan.” Tessa said, trying her best not to cause him to make a mistake. She alerted him to the armoured man that had just entered, gesturing towards him with her head and saying “You think we should help? You know I don’t like the idea of leaving this kind of thing be. Especially when we have the power to make a difference.”

“Hrm?” The elder snapped his attention to his travelling companion, keenly aware of all the commotion despite his perceived focus on his art. “There are many others who have already volunteered Ms. Imlotel, souls more foolish to speak ill of the powers that be so openly. It would be unwise to cast our lot with them, would it not?” And with the two coppers of his opinion offered, Kethan returned his focus on the next letter to be inscribed, counting three and a half fools already rushing into action without foresight.

“We can be gone before anyone hears about this, and they don’t need to know who we are in the first place. Besides, we’re not exactly achieving much sitting here, waiting for the rain to pass. I thought we were supposed to help people, or did I get that wrong?”

“We can only do so much. But if we must Ms. Imlotel…” A sigh followed thereafter, the pen and ink put away, the parchment still too wet to be rolled and stowed, but it would soon be dried enough. By the time these boisterous babblers finished their little gallantry contest, shouting declarations and exclamations to clutter up the the already noisy tavern with even more unnecessary chatter. Kethan spent his life within the confines of a temple, pouring his heart and mind over the keeping of tomes and the knowledge therein. The silence was divine, and too often did Kethan thought to cast a spell of silence over the inns they have resided in along their travels. Although to be fair, between Tessa’s noble life and Kethan’s temple life, they lived a cut above the common rabble. Thus perhaps they could afford a little more than just wine and pheasant, but to spare some sympathy for a man who’s lost his daughter.

“Thanks, for understanding.” Tessa said, before standing up and turning to the others. “You can count on our help, as well. Just please be more careful about where you advertise your little revolution. We might all be dead already if there’s a spy in here. Just in case…” Tessa was now directing her speech at everyone present “...if you’re a spy and you hear this, know that if you say a word to whoever’s paying you, I will find you and it won’t be nice for you when I do. That said, feel free to return to whatever you were doing.”

“Ms. Imlotel, scare not away the flies, for how else shall we find festering meat?” A quip taken from the pages of some book surely read long ago. All the armored man who tracked mud by his boots had were accusations, allegations without proof to strangers here. What man would lie about his daughter being enslaved? One who had something to gain from it. Disposing a Mayor if and only if he proved guilty of being a petty tyrant really should be done by the Crown. Then again there was no love lost between Kethan and the Crown, it was after all the King’s orders that burned his beloved library. But one mustn't bring this into a personal crusade against the immortal man, let the gods decide if and when to smite him down for his hubris.

Tessa sat down again, saying “I suppose you’re right there, but I don’t suppose they being called flies, either. On the other hand ‘Call not the spies flies...’ doesn’t have the same ring to it, though it does rhyme.”

“The ink is dry, I can only hope they will wait until outside is the same. Only foolish men search for vengeance in the rain. Ah, how is that for rhymes.” A slight chuckle as the scroll was put away, yes Kethan had a bit of a humor left in his old bones, though he knees ached in picking up his quarterstaff from its resting place. “Come Ms. Imlotel, let us measure the avengers assembled.”

Ada raised an eyebrow at the responses to follow as she drained the contents of her goblet. At the response of whom she could only expect was a noble and her hoary bodyguard of sorts, Ada set down her goblet along with a couple of silver coins to pay her tab. "You see, these are the people who have some wits about them. I would ask names, but to state one's own name in a tavern like this after such declarations of vengeance would be unwise, would it not, 'Thundermaul'? I propose we inquire as to private accommodations before the mayor's guardsmen set upon us."

Ada stood and approached the hasty individual who had approached them and lowered her voice so only he could hear. "I appreciate your position and the lack of options you must believe you have, but you may have brought ruin upon us all and this tavern should we fail. We should mobilize and quickly, lest word reach your target." Ada adjusted the bow strung about her back to a more comfortable position before returning to the tavernmaster. "Would such a place be available? And how much coin is expected to guarantee your silence? I suppose twenty gold should be aplenty, would it not?"

CROW EATER

The mood of the crowd was silent. Drips of the rain water tapping erratically over the establishment filling in the silence as a high elf and three humans offered their aid... One way or another. The dimly lit room made it difficult for him to fully perceive their appearances but the dragonborn's thoughts were affirmed. This was clearly a job worthy for undertaking. He brought his girth about the conversation and shrugged the water droplets off of his wet studded tunic before rearing the hood that covered his complexion.

"Ye'll find me as a sort of spy. Not the kind to serve tyrants, though." His tone seemed down to earth and lazy with a subtle nasal texture on some vowels. He stood with a relaxed posture, with his hand resting rather closely to his waist, almost as though he is reaching for the shortsword stowed away by his side. "You wouldn't be offerin' these mates some kind of job earlier would you? I'd kindly provide my services. Just fill me in the details." (Sleight of hand attempt to steal something in his pocket: 26)

(If successful, he will reveal the item from the warrior's pouch and return it to him.)

As others spoke up and volunteered, Arius raised an eyebrow in particular at the dragonborns' impromptu display of legerdemain upon the warrior, while making a mental note never to stand too close to him, however, he is notably more taken aback the lizard's accompanying inquiry as to there being a job and the details thereof. Had this rogue genuinely missed the armored warrior's entire entrance and boisterous call to arms, which had drawn the cheers of almost the entire tavern? That seemed rather implausible, which sort of made the rogue seem more like exactly the kind of spy various people present were suddenly very paranoid about, especially given that sneakery was clearly the man's trade.

Arius himself was not terribly concerned with such paranoia, as up until this morning he'd never even heard of this town or its mayor, and he sincerely doubted the man operated a complex spy network of any sort. If anyone were going to betray the warrior, it would most likely just be someone else whose family member had been taken, hoping to earn freedom for their own loved one by selling out their neighbors. If nothing else, this dragonborn fellow certainly did not look local.

Turning towards the bow-carrying woman, Arius finds accord with only part of her previous assessment, "Retiring to private accommodations would allow us to speak more freely but anyone else here would also be free to slip away without our notice. While I'm loathe to the idea of simply storming a man's home, if we are to do anything at all, we should probably proceed there with all due haste as you've said. Its not ideal, but we can simply make our plans, haphazard as they are apt to be, on the way and thus assure no time is given for word to reach."

"I'm a soldier not a damn tactician. We storm the place, get my daughter and the rest of you can take what you like. I'll lead the way. We should go before anyone does alert them that we're coming. If no one came with me I was just going to go by myself anyway."

Alric left the tavern, not caring that he was getting soaked in the rain. The gates would be closed, they could scale the wall, or something. He turned back to look at the others to see if they had any ideas. The walls were made of smooth stone, 20 feet high, slick with rain. He shook his head, he had not thought this out well.

((For any players who want to attempt to climb the wall, you will need to make an acrobatics check with a -2 disadvantage on the roll because of the surface and the rain. Feel free to ask if your character can make other checks or attempt to learn more about your surroundings.))

Ada could not deny the logic in the half-elf's statement. Haste could be potentially important in this endeavor, despite the imprudence of charging ahead without a plan. For herself, Ada never acted without some semblance of a plan in mind, and when they arrived, drenched to the bone before the house on a cliffside. The trees on the other side might lend for some cover, but it was hard to tell whether the wall continued much past the treeline. And before them lay a muddy mess.

Their options were limited, not only due to the path before them but by the amount of intel they had on this subject as well. Their leader, obviously as competent as his original statement made him sound, stood sheepishly before the wall. Ada let out an inaudible sigh before stepping forward. "The way I see it, we have two options. We could attempt to unlock the gate, either by scaling the wall or picking the lock, or we could try to make our way around the wall to approach from a different angle. I am not wont to enter by myself, but I could attempt to scale this wall and scout ahead at the very least. Does anyone else have any ideas, preferably quiet ones?"

As she spoke, her eyes darted around at the surrounding landscape, attempting to get some bearing on her location. The area nearby was unfamiliar, and she was wary of the thick mud at the gate. At best, the mud would leave an easy trail and a telltale sign on their boots. At worst, it could hold a trap of some form, or at the very least, make the path as trecherous as the wall she considered scaling. If there was one thing she knew from her years of investigation, one should never underestimate the power of a solid door in one's way.

Fools. The lot of them. Rushing into battle headfirst, without a proper plan. One cannot successfully execute a coup in one throw of the dice. Not at least without some divine intervention. And though he was old, Kethan was still able to keep up, more or less, with use of his staff to aid his amble. The four warriors, archer and sneakthief, with a wizard and an old clergyman, this was some sort of jest was it not? Haste was a folly here, but the Elvens, a high ranger and half warrior or at least one by the latter's appearance, were correct. Time was indeed of the essence, and despite Kethan's hope muttered to his younger companion, he knew they would sooner or later brave the downpour. If indeed there was an informant within their midst, the Mayor would be prepared for this uprising. And Kethan would prefer a bloodless trial, a confession of truth freely testified was better than a forced interrogation.

He was a priest, of sorts, Gilean was a neutral god, a Patron of knowledge, but cared not what one does with the information with respect to morals. It was the balance of forces that kept both sides at bay, neither good nor evil, chaos nor law in dominance over each other. Knowledge which equalized all things, and retuned the cosmic scales. Though Kethan, preferred lawfulness and order, being a librarian and having all the volumes of lore to sieve through, catalogues of ages of learning, it was better to create a system which brings logic to the mess. It was rules and laws after all, which kept society together, the civilities of intellect, take it away from a man, and you are left with a wild beast. With little offence towards the large goliath within their group, Kethan found the plans to simply charge and barge, hacking and slashing all oppositions barbaric in nature. A moral dilemma not of good and evil, but rather of upholding the standards of society's laws and due process. Sometimes this was the only way however, and Ms. Imlotel had volunteered them by her good nature.

Thus forth did the disappointed elder shake his head after the declarations made, he had hoped they would spare a moment to access the assets within their rag tag group. The strengths, skills, and spells they had at their group's disposal, but perhaps it is better in some aspect that they did not have formal greetings, lest this poorly hashed plan fail and names were named. At least by appearances alone, they had four capable melee fighters, someone with a bow, Ms. Imlotel can provide some spells, and if they were too hurt, a few words of healing should mend wounds. But there was one amongst them Kethan was displeased of being thrown in a lot with. A thief, and one proud of being one it seemed with his feat of non-magical legerdemain. Someone to keep a keen eye on one that even years in a library finding obscure books in piles and piles of other books must actively keep in mind. To stay ahead of a pickpocket, better be behind him, rather than ahead.

It was also perhaps his age which made staying behind the majority of the group easier. And by the time the cleric of Gilean had reached the Cliffside manor, those fools had realized two things, the proverb uttered by Kethan was quite accurate, and there was a gated wall to get around before heroically storming the Mayor's estate. The leader of the group look absolutely lost, like a sheep that absent-mindedly wandered off from drier fields. Drenching his robes in rain, as Kethan's shoes and walking stick struck the muddied ground. A stern grandfather's look across his visage, one that was both disappointed in the youngster's rash actions which dragged these old bones out here in the rain.

"I told you, fools." An aside to Ms. Imlotel, as the cleric's eyes scanned the wall before them for footholds or anything that would make an attempt to scale the walls far easier in the rain. But smooth stone walls slick with water, even with a rope would be difficult, not that Kethan's knees could do what these others could, far less springy and stiffened with age and prayer. Yet what the librarian lacked in youth and vigor, he made up in experience, something he could demonstrate to these overeager and overthinking people. Their elven bow-woman already formulating a plan to get past the impasse before them, planning to scale the walls herself. And with a knowing chuckle, Kethan had already come up with a far simpler solution for their problem.

"Knowledge opens many doors." A single utterance, before the wrought iron gates flung themselves apart. Invisible hands, pulling against the metal, opening up as Kethan approached, walking through as a prophet parting the seas. The challenge of the great walls and gate seemingly impressively defeated by a mystical intervention, or rather a divine one given Kethan's profession. Yet what Kethan surmised, and thus used his trick, was that the gate was unlocked, no guards were posted on the outside as sharp eyes noted, thus there was no sentry to man the gates or message those on the other side to unlock the gates. Step, step, staff, step, step, staff, the rhythm of his cadence. Without turning back to see who followed into the unknown, the tortoise overtaking the hare, the last to arrive, but the first to set the terms, "I prefer a bloodless visit to find truth, please keep the bloodshed to a minimum. I am not prepared to bring any fool back from the dead, but my younger company may wish to do so..."

"Great work, old timer!" Thanath boomed at Kethan "Now that that little problem is taken care of, let's go fight people!" With that said, Thanath drew his maul and charged headlong through the gate.

As the group gathered before the gates of the supposedly villainous mayor's estate, Arius was more than a bit unsettled by the fact that the warrior bringing them to the rescue of his daughter not only seemed keen on not discussing the details of how that might be accomplished, but also hadn't let slip even once the name of this daughter whom he reportedly loved enough to risk such treasonous acts.

When the old man subsequently opened the gate and proceeded through without encountering any resistance, Arius' unsettled feeling grew all the more. In earnest, he hadn't even considered checking if the gate was unlocked as an option. The rich, even those without nefarious hearts like this mayor supposedly possessed, did not simply leave the gates that separate them from the masses of the poor unattended. To do so was a very good way to find one's self no longer rich.

Glancing about at the specific individuals gathered, Arius also noted that much like the dragonborn, none of those present seemed likely to be locals, even though it was supposedly locals who had been unjustly seized to be carted off as slaves. Indeed, none present besides the warrior noted having a personal stake in this venture. So where were the other friends and family of the citizens supposedly taken as slaves? And how exactly would selling one's own citizens supposed to help the mayor? Whatever value you could get out of them at market would pale in comparison to the lost future tax revenues, the loss of productivity in your village in general, and the unrest that would invariably eventually result. Evil or no, it was simply fiscally unsound... again, a very good way to find one's self no longer rich.

Leaning a bit in the direction of the elven woman who had commented on the concern of spies earlier and whose assessment he'd agreed with, Arius simply notes, "The wealthiest man in a village full of drunkards lamenting their own destitution... and the vile, child-napping, slave-trading mayor's gates swing open freely and stand unguarded? That's not at all suspicious."

Arius then summons his ivory pact weapon into hand in the form of a longsword, before abruptly turning towards and nodding at the warrior, "It occurs to me that perhaps this isn't business of random drifter such as myself and is best left in the hands of local authorities. Best of luck with recovering your daughter, whatever her name may be.", before he proceeds to head straight back to the tavern, without another word, keeping his ivory weapon closely at his side as he does so.

"Hold, if you please, good sir," Ada spoke up as one of the more intelligent of them announced his departure. "If you believe that something is afoot in this endeavor, I would suggest that we would need someone of your wits, and yours too." Ada nodded towards the elderly gentleman who had opened the gate. "Whether we are in store for an ambush inside or this is truly a man's vengeance upon an unjust politician, we are in need of as many level heads as we can to counter..." Ada nodded towards the goliath rushing forth with a cadre of mongrels at his heel.

"Perhaps instead of abandoning the venture, we could outwit whoever is setting us up. If the prospect of keeping these anxious souls alive does not make you reconsider, then perhaps the intellectual challenge of deciphering this riddle would. Perhaps as a show of good faith, I should offer my name. You may call me Ada. And I..." Ada bent forward to inspect the lock on the gate that was recently opened, spending a moment to jam the pins in place. "I plan to solve this riddle. I would appreciate your expertise."

---

---

Tessa swore under her breath when she found out they were going to leave immediately. It was raining, and she wasn't dressed suitably for it at all. She kept this to herself, since it was only her own fault, but it wouldn't take a genius to figure it out anyway.

At least it wasn't far to the mansion. Tessa laughed quietly when her friend showed how the others had overthought the situation, though, as one of her companions had already said, the idea that the gate would just be left unlocked like that was worrying. It was like the mayor wanted them to come in, and when also considering how the warrior had advertised his revolution, it certainly seemed that something was off. But rather than shying away from this mystery like the same companion as mentioned before, Tessa saw this as all the more reason to investigate.

"Hey! Melonhead!" Tessa said, addressing the goliath who had rushed off ahead. If she'd ever heard of a good way to get oneself killed, running headlong into obvious danger was probably the start of it. "Maybe consider something other than the front door? It's bound to be the best defended, and this guy can obviously afford a trap or two." Tessa didn't mention how with the entrance as empty as it was, there might not be any defences at all through the door. She didn't want the goliath to interpret this as a reason to continue, and then be killed if she was right all along. She just hoped that no one else mentioned this hole in her logic, and searched for another way in.

CROW EATER

Interesting. His proposition was entirely ignored. As the man and a few others followed after him, he tailed the group nonchalantly behind them... Beneath the heavy trickling of rain that shivered his weathered body. It didn't take them too long to arrive within an estate of sorts-- its sight fogged by raindrops across the distance but a wall divided between them. Smooth, about 20 feet tall with a closed gate that hindered them.

A small discussion ensued. Scale the wall and open the door from the other side, attempt to lockpick the closed gate or simply questioning why it was unguarded. The Dragonborn smirked upon the meddling youngsters as the old man, who must be pooled with brilliance and wisdom willed the door to open. "Knowledge opens many doors." Indeed, that it would open many doors. Doors of both physical and ethereal planes of existence and thought.

He followed after him, maintaining his silence as others would begin to follow through. It was understandable that an old man's pace would be so very relaxed or be without contempt-- But the Dragonborn could simply absorb an aura of caution as he began his approach. He made no attempt to move closer towards the fellow and simply uttered a few words himself. "Relax mate. Crow Eater doesn't stick his fingers on the elderly or innocent folks. Bah'mut hates it when I do." Also to note; he himself was rather old.

To the matter at hand; simply opening the front door would indeed be an ill-advised judgement. He could see in front of him a clearer picture of the estate which could be described as... 'Poorly guarded' for something of considerable importance and significance. The Dragonborn wished to not enter by the front door but rather by either its next story and above if possible; searching for any seemingly open windows or balconies that may be present around the area.

Alric had never been past the gate before, it wasn't allowed unless you had official business and trying to get his daughter back had not been considered official business by anyone other than himself. The courtyard was full of sculpted hedges, Alric was glad to see his taxes (not that he'd paid them, hence his daughter being taken) were being well spent. The entrance to the manor is paved with white and black marble tiles. Double wooden doors were the only entrance, at least around the front. The windows were made of plate glass and would be difficult to get through.

"This was not one of my better ideas," Alric grumbled to himself.

Arius pauses for a moment in response to the bow-wielder who has formally given her name as Ada. She made several valid points, despite the fact that she was being somewhat overly flattering towards a complete stranger. Arius considered himself an honorable fellow and thus he certainly didn't want see innocent people in chains, but the warrior asking the assembled group of strangers to commit treason was rather doggedly intent on not disclosing anything to them and likewise set against proceeding with even a modicrum of caution or common sense.

Thus, when without further words of any kind, the warrior proceeded through the gate, Arius simply cut the elven woman a glance, before politely nodding and returning on his way back to the tavern. Apparently nothing more needed to be said.