---

The Harbour Ward is a short ride north of Haven, situated along the coast. Void of the natural protection of the cliff walls that protect Haven, the Harbour instead relies on high stone walls and battlements. The ward is full of new inhabitants for Founders Day, and taking advantage of the potential shoppers, an impromptu market has been raised alongside the piers, where traveling merchants peddle their wares. Exotic goods from Amnon and Eclor are featured predominantly.

One merchant sells a treasure chest he swears can't be opened, plundered from a haunted ruin in the wastes outside Runestone. "Who among you manage the will to open this magical chest?! 10 gold and the riches of a ancient tiefling king can be yours!"

Beside the stall, a caravan lays in wait, where the master stands atop his mountain of goods, strung tight to his wagon. He has the look of a man whose been in some fights himself, leaning heavily upon a spear, fierce eyes and a scar across his face. "Strong men of stout hearts, hear me! Bandits waylay the road to Ravenhold. Who among you can muster the courage to aid a merchant in his travels? Accompany me and safeguard precious goods and earn gold! Yes, you heard me right! Not copper! Not silver! But gold! We ride out now and be back by morning! Blades and bows to me, and upon my arrival, 25 gold a man!"

@deadpixel101

As the two companions entered the scene of the breakout, the square surged with chaos. Goblins were going mad, while a rather short man fought with a pack of the goblins, as they hissed and barked at him. The poor man did his best to keep them away with his dagger. Past him goblins scrambled out of a cage, as two slavers fended off goblins in a fighting pit. Gregorii smiled upon seeing the riot. He was glad to see them fight against this life. Even if they weren't the nicest, Gregorii believed they didn't deserve it. "Oi Culmith, wanna raise some hell?" Culmith grinned despite being shocked at this uprising. "Took the words right out of my mouth." Gregorii nodded, and smiled back.

The Wagon surged forward, towards the mass of goblin's and scumbags, Gregorii gets up, Mop in hand, he leaps forward at one of the slaver scum, landing the mop on his skull with a audible crack, Adrenaline pumping throughout his vein's, he joins in the chaos unfolding, fighting for the poor oppressed goblin slaves, meanwhile Culmith raised his bow, aiming at a armored dwarf scumbag, he sent the arrow flying through the air, but it flew off of the midget slaver's armor, "Watch 'yer aim boy!" he called out, completely oblivious to the fact that Culmith was trying to kill him, Culmith growled "I was aiming for you weasel", but the slaver was too caught in combat to hear him. The drums of adrenaline beat in Gregorii's ears, pounding into his skull, the world around him turned blood red as he swung his mop wildly at a slaver, a youthful rage flared up in him, and soon he was lost in a frenzy.

A Group of poor little oppressed Goblins ran towards the wagon, ripping and tearing into it, grabbing whatever valuables they can, they either were unaware or didn't care about the help, the duo had gave them, Culmith raised his voice to the goblins ""Friends. You all deserve freedom, just like everyone here. The only way you can be truly free is peace, and you must stop fighting to pursue peace. So please, lay down your arms, and allow yourselves to be peaceful."" The goblins listened, deciding not to kill him, they looked to the horizon with a look of terror on their eyes, then ran off, leaving the wagon utterly ransacked and destroyed. In the distance, three members of the city watch riding on horseback drove in, running down the Goblins and sending them scattering off, Culmith ignored the goblins and attempted to turn the carriage around. "Gregorii! Hop on!" He then called to the guards. "His mind is addled. He is too old and needs to get home.", Gregorii swung his mop at another slaver, but upon a closer inspection, he realized that his "allies" had ran off, like a bunch of cowards, he heard Culmith's yell, he'd snarl at being called old and addled, but he had bigger things to worry about, he ran off to the wagon, hopping on it as the horses raced out.

The wind flew through Culmith's hair as he handed the reins to Gregorii, getting up to go see what was left, Gregorii sat on the wagon, frustration rippling through his face, he saw the poor little oppressed goblins ransack the wagon, like the ungrateful green shits they are, he began to wonder why he even bothered to save them, he was a fool for doing the right thing for the wrong people, the next time he'd see a goblin, he'd butcher them like the animals they were, he started to grind his teeth, he needed to take his mind off of the madness he had helped create, the wagon slowed to a stop, he got up and joined Culmith, searching through whatever they had left, then he spotted a fake health potion...but it looked too real to be fake, he cursed under his breath, his eyes widening, he picked up the Potion and gave it to Culmith wordlessly, waiting to see if the potion was real, waiting to see if Gregorii was a scumbag...

Culmith's wounds closed, he healed up and became filled with strength, the Potion was real, Gregorii's crimes too, Gregorii's stood, dumb folded at the pain he had caused, he liked to believe he was more than a scumbag, that the people he harmed deserved it, but none of that was true, he last person he suspected to be evil, was himself. Culmith looked down, ashamed. "I hate to say it Gregorii, but we're scum. We need to run."

"We. are. not. scum." Gregorii's gritted his teeth, the anger he tried to repress came back, "And leave her to die!" he suddenly snapped, ""Gregorii. We have stolen a wagon, as well as fought against men doing what is legal. Despite what we thought is right, we are still scum in their eyes. And they will realize that soon enough."" Culmith told Gregorii, who hated the word scum, there was a fine line between Scum and Criminals, one broke the law for their own selfish needs, the other just broke the law, Gregorii was a criminal, but he was not a scumbag. "If we run!" Gregorii yelled "We would have done all this for nothing!, NOTHING!" Culmith stroked his chin, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder to calm him down, "Ok, Gregorii. We will save the girl." he agreed with Gregorii, who nodded silently then sat back down, whipping the horses so the wagon will keep moving, "If we run!" Gregorii yelled "I'm sorry" he apologized, the anger in him dissipating, he like a little child he let his anger take hold of him, whenever he liked it or not, he was not a child anymore, the gods took that away from him. The guilt settled in Gregorii, his hands were bloody, he needed to rescue the girl, it was the only way to wash the blood on his hands.

With the excitement in the square dying down, patrons outside the Trotting Mule began to file back into the inn, some exchanging coppers as they did so, apparently having bet on the outcome of the would-be thief. "Oi you lot!" Durwith called out to the patrons before they could head inside "Any o' you Paxton Truter?!".
"Who's asking?" a man with a glass eye asked as he sneered at Durwith.
"Durwith Bronzebeard" Durwith replied "I bring news regarding his brother".
"Pah! What's the layabout done this time?" He spat. "You'll find Paxton inside suckling ale from the keg! Har! Har!"
"Thank ye kindly" Durwith said before proceeding into the tavern.

Inside the Trotting Mule most of the patrons had a full night of drinking under their belt. One man loudly challenged others to a game of darts. A group of halflings bickered over the last drop of their gallon of ale. A farmer dozed on the floor, oblivious to his surroundings, and a man, clad in studded armor and a bow across his back, wearing a badge identifying him as a Ranger of Haven scribbled in a notebook with mug of ale left untouched. The barkeep, a burly man bald and a long twirling mustache, tended to the bar.

Durwith walked up to the bar. "I'm lookin' fer Paxton Truter" Durwith said "Is 'ee 'ere right now?".
The barkeep gave a knowing glance. "By chance he maybe" he replied "What's it worth to ya?"
"It's worth a message" Durwith said "Somethin's 'appened to 'is brother, an' I 'ave to give 'im the news".
"Better hope for your sake it's not bad news," the barkeep said "Paxton is out back taking a piss. Kicked em out after I caught him soiling the corner over yonder!". The barkeep pointed out the door leading out back.
"Thank ye" Durwith said before walking over to the back door and going through it. Once outside, Durwith looked around to see if anyone was nearby.

In the shadows, his back to Durwith, a man stood. He wore a leather vest, broad shoulders and long hair tied in a long braid. He appeared to be tying his breeches. He turned around, staggering the door, and paying Durwith very little mind. "You Paxton?" Durwith asked as the man approached "I have a message fer Paxton an' I was told 'ee was out 'ere".
The man stopped, regarding Durwith for a moment. "I be Paxton, Dwarf" The smell of ale was thick on his breath.
"The goblins broke out o' their cage down at Slaver's Square" Durwith said gravely "There was a skirmish, an' I'm afraid yer brother lies among the dead".
Paxton swayed slightly as he heard the news, at first he made no sign of hearing the dour news he'd been told. Finally, with dark eyes, he seethed through his beard. "What... What did you say, Dwarf?".
"The goblins broke out o' their cage down at Slaver's Square" Durwith repeated "There was a skirmish, an' I'm afraid yer brother lies among the dead".

The moment Durwith finished speaking, Paxton lunged at him. Acting on instinct, Durwith backhanded Paxton to the ground, donned his shield, drew his battle axe, and entered a defensive stance."Now you listen 'ere" Durwith growled "I can understand this news might be a little 'ard to 'andle, but that don't give you the right to shoot the messenger. Especially when said messenger is armed and armored far more heavily than you are".
Paxton slumped over on the ground, slamming a clenched fist into the dirt with a roar. He looked up at Durwith with bloodshot eyes. "Buy me an ale?" he asked.
"Sure, why not" Durwith said with a shrug before putting away his weapons and leading the way back into the tavern.

Paxton followed Durwith inside, his nose leaking blood down his face. The barkeep looked at the pair, giving Durwith an approving nod as they approached the bar. "An ale fer 'im an' a mead fer me, barkeep" Durwith said as he took a seat at the bar.
The barkeep nodded, fetching to mugs and putting them down before you both. "On the house" he said before shouting to address the whole bar. "Listen up, you whoresons! LAST CALL!" The patrons booed and jeered before making their way to the bar for one last round.

Paxton took up his flagon and tossed back several big gulps. Durwith did the same. "I'm gonna turn my life around" mumbled Paxton. "This life o' slavin' and brigandin' ain't no life. Think I'll enlist in the Watch. Hear they be takin on new men".
"They usually are" Durwith replied "An' I'm fairly certain they'd be lookin' fer at least 1 new watchman after they gave me the boot today".
"That so?" Paxton takes another drink, draining the last of his mug. "Any hard feelings?".
"About being sacked or about you tryin' to jump me jus' now?" Durwith asked once he'd finished off his own drink "Either way, I 'ave none. Although that bastard of a commanding officer I beat senseless might 'ave a few".
Paxton tossed his head back with a laugh. He stood up from his bar stool and slapped Durwith on the back. "I go now to see to my brother" Paxton declared "Thank you, stranger, and do forgive me. What be your name 'fore I go?"
"Durwith Bronzebeard" Durwith replied "An' I accept yer apology. Should ya need anythin' from me, seek out me brother Lorges. He lives at the southern end of Moria Avenue in the Dwarven Ward. You'll know 'is 'ouse by its polished bronze roof and the loud music coming from within at even the most ungodly of hours. I'll be livin' with 'im fer the foreseeable future".
"Thank ye" Paxton said "And Durwith - You have a hell of backhand!". With that said, Paxton staggered out of the tavern.
Durwith watched Paxton leave before turning to the barkeep. "Thank ye fer the drinks" Durwith said "I'll be visitin' again". Having said that Durwith rose to his feet, left the tavern, and began to walk to his brothers' house.

---

As Durwith walked home, navigating the quiet streets towards the Dwarven Ward, situated north of the cemetery, he heard a commotion up ahead. Turning a street corner, he saw a man in robes standing atop a crate, an amulet depicting the Great Wheel suggested he was some kind of priest. He appeared to be proselytizing and had garnered some negative attention from drunks on their way home from the tavern. "The Gods will return!" Exclaimed the priest "We walk the path of redemption!".
"The Gods are shit, and so are you!" a drunk said, gaining a rouse of laughter from his two companions.
"Dear friends" the preacher said "we must open our hearts to Gods' lo-". His sermon was cut off when a slab of mud and manure was slung at his face by the drunks, landing with a slap.
The priest wiped his face, trembling, struggling to maintain his composure. "It is... It is mortal kind that struck the first blow" he continued "But that does not mean we are past forgiveness!". Durwith had seen what was happening in front of him enough times to know where it was going. He walked closer to the preacher and the drunks, ready to leap into action if the drunks tried anything.

"You really are shit!" 1 of the drunks laughed.
"Yeah but his jaw is still flapping!" another said before leaning over, picking up a large stone, and aiming it at the preacher.
When the drunk threw the stone, Durwith leaped in front of the preacher and knocked the stone away with his shield. "That's enough!" Durwith barked "Move along the lot of you, or it'll be yer faces that me shield hits next!".
The lead ruffian glared at Durwith, but his friends tugged at his arm. "Come on, Milo" 1 of them said "This Godslover isn't worth it".
"No I suppose not" Milo sneered before stepping forward and spitting at Durwith's feet. He then turned with his fellows and staggered off down the street.

Once the drunks were out of sight, Durwith turned to the preacher. "Are ye hurt?" Durwith asked.
The preacher had pulled a cloth out of his robes and was wiping his face. "Aside from the humiliation I am fine" the preacher replied "Thank you, good sir! I don't have much in way of thanks, but here". He handed Durwith a copy of the Holy Scriptures. "You walk the path of Redemption" he told the dwarf.
"Thank ye" Durwith said as he took the book and put it in his backpack "Will ye continue to preach or do ye plan on startin' fer 'ome now?".
"I go home, my son, to draw a warm bath" the preacher replied as he stepped down from his crate.
"I shall see ye there safely then" Durwith said "The city can be dangerous fer men of the faith when the taverns start turnin' out there patrons fer the night, as you may already know".
"You really have done enough, but I will not refuse company" the preacher said "To Godsreach, then?"
"To Godsreach" Durwith replied "Lead on".
The preacher strode forward, clearly eager to get home to his bath. "I cannot blame those poor fools" the preacher said as he walked "It is easy to lose hope in this world, to turn your anger to the Gods and those who hold faith"
"Indeed" Durwith replied as looked about for any signs of imminent danger every so often "Especially when ye have access to copious amounts of ale".
"It brings about the worst in people, yet we need find solace somewhere" the preacher said "Some choose the Gods, others, the drink".

The street turned upward, making an incline up towards a gate. The doors were shut, but a small portcullis remained open. It marked the entrance to the Dwarven Ward, beyond that was Godsreach. It seemed unguarded, though someone could easily be watching from within the battlements above. "Ah, the Dwarven Ward" Durwith said as they approached the gate "Best part o' the whole city if ye ask me...Aside from anywhere within earshot o' me brother's 'ouse, which is where I'll unfortunately be stayin' fer a while after losin' the board that came with me job".
"It is certainly an integral part of the city, one of the oldest wards, as well" the preacher replied "Tell me, do you oft travel up the hill to Godsreach? Visit the temple of Moradin?".
"I only went there when work called me there" Durwith replied "The gods and I 'ave an I stay out o' yer way an' ye stay out o' mine sort o' relationship".
"Tis the way with us all, sadly" the preacher said "Until the Gods return that is. Mark my words, they are returning, lest Nerull swallow us all".
"What makes ye so sure the gods are returnin'?" Durwith asked with an eyebrow raised in curiosity.
"I have faith" he said simply.
"I see" Durwith replied before looking around again for any signs of imminent trouble. Instead of trouble though, Durwith found a gold coin. Durwith plucked the coin from the ground and held it out for the preacher to take. "Found somethin' fer the poor box" Durwith said.
"Why thank you!" the preacher said as he slipped it into his alms box.
"Don't mention it" Durwith replied.

After a short time, and an uneventful walk, the priest and Durwith came to a large temple. A domed cathedral reached high up in the sky, surrounded by a stone wall. The temple was guarded by a pair of paladins in shining steel armor, the great wheel emblazoned on their shields. The priest turned to Durwith with a smile. "Thanks again, stranger" he said "If ever you happen upon Godsreach know you have a friend here at the temple of Larethian. Ask for Godfrey" he gave a slight now before walking into the temple.
"I'll keep that in mind" Durwith said as Godfrey walked away. Once the preacher was out of sight, Durwith nodded to the paladins before walking off in the direction of his brother's house.

The Wagon slowed to a stop, outside of a inn, a sign with the picture of a Cudgel covered with rust jutted out from the Inn, showing that the Inn was known as "The Rusty Cudgel Inn", Gregorii briefly wondered why people would use such a crappy weapon for a bar name, if he made a bar, it'd be a fancy one, where people could forget their sorrows and indulge in happiness for once in their life, but he supposed that'd defeat the purpose, people go to bar's so they can get drunk off of booze, pity and depression. Most of them saw the world as a shitty rusty weapon, to broken to be used properly. The name made sense now, after all, it was impossible to be happy in this hellhole, any pleasure derived from it was fake, done to delude yourself into believing you were having a good time, nobody smiles in a bar, anyone who did was a liar.

He left the wagon, leaving it in the hands of Culmith, he frowned as he walked in, his eye's buzzing from side to side, trying to find that damn girl, he was grasping at straws now, he felt as if he was in a guillotine, with the blade one inch from his neck, if he couldn't find that girl, all of his progress would be beheaded, lost and disposed of in a basket, all the lives he ruined would be in vain, he frowned even harder, as if it were possible, he liked to believe he was a good man, that his action's bring's warmth to this cold world, yet wherever he stepped, he left nothing but misery and snow, lives broken by his "altruistic" actions. he looked around the bar, it was desolate, as if a fight had set off in their, he approached a man bleeding out, being tended to by a priest, with a hunchback he looked at the man, "I'm lookin' for a girl being carried off by some slaver scumbag, have you seen her?" he grunted, though he had a pissed-off look on his face, he was secretly praying that he'd give him the tiniest hope of her whereabouts, "Aye fuck off I didn't see shit!" he yelled, Gregorii resisted the urge to beat the crap out of the man, instead he just scowled and turned away. he came across a backpack, left behind by one of the patrons, who had to evacuate due to a goblin attack. Gregorii scowled again, seeing the bitter effect's of his actions, he was like a terrible builder, who tried to fix everything, but instead he only broke things further.

But at the corner of his eye, he spotted a piece of paper, that shined like a diamond, without hesitation he grabbed it, shoving it in his face, the note read "Be at the masquerade ball on Founders Day. Lords, nobles, and merchants of note will be in attendance, and willing to pay top coin for choice slaves. Just don't cross Barken!" in elegant writing, if the girl was anywhere, she'd be there. Gregorii shoved the note in his pocket, the note glittering with hope, he felt relieved now that he found it, though he had no idea how to gain entry, he wasn't anyone important, he was Gregorii, a mystic of rage and depression, the title sounded cool, but he was still a peasant, not even the smallest of lords would invite him, but he had a idea, their would likely be members of the watch at the party, after all who was their to stop all the flithy peasants like Gregorii from crashing it?. He walked up to a guard, hunched over a table with a dozen other's like him, directing orders on how to clean up the mess Gregorii helped make, he scowled again. he figured he's going to do that a lot.

"Aye I wanna join the guard" he asked, angry at how easy those words fell from his mouth, guards only exist to keep the poor from eating the rich, the commander briefly looked at Gregorii, "Haven't you seen a little too much winter's to join the guard" he smugly insulted, Gregorii wanted to hit him in the face, it was natural, he wanted to hit everyone in the face. "I'm younger than you" he retorted, chuckling as if he made a joke, though the joke died out quickly, it was more painful than funny. "I'm trying to stop this mess from getting worse, if you want to join the guard, go to Founder's Bridge's Keep" he glared condescendingly, pointing at the door. Gregorii just walked out and left, walking to the wagon, but Culmith was surprisingly absent, Gregorii looked both ways, trying to spot him, but to his horror, he spotted a group of guards walking across the corner, one of them recognized him, pointing at him and causing the other's to sprint towards him, Gregorii swore under his breath, hopping onto the wagon, he yelled for Culmith to get on, but he was no where to be seen, muttering under his breath, Gregorii rode away from his only friend, swearing incessantly as he did so, now he felt truly alone.

The guard's disappeared into the distance, he rode forth towards Founder's Bridge, but much to his distress, he found that a group of guards were waiting for him, two of them on horseback rode up to them, "Halt!, inspection!" he yelled, Gregorii had no choice but to stop, thinking quickly, Gregorii frowned, Two crazy criminal's took everything I had he lied through his teeth, though their was some truth to his words, the guard's looked at each other, then back at Gregorii with sadness in their eyes, "I'm sorry, we'll catch them, I'm sure of it" one of them apologized, Gregorii moved forwards, "I'm sure you'll find them soon" he told them, as they already found him, they just didn't know it yet. But much to Gregorii's dismay, there was a single piece of paper on the door, which said "City watch applications closed until morning!" Gregorii wanted to scream, he simply went back, it was getting dark, he needed to sleep, yet he was broke, whatever money he had, he needed to save. he drove outside the city, past a inn with a warm bed and cold drinks, he frowned, he couldn't afford to enjoy his life, he left the city, driving past a noble and a servant who seemed to be in a rush, when he tried to talk to them, they rode away on horseback, the servant's name was apparently Renold. But Gregorii didn't care, the noble's were no different from god's, they got to sit in their castle's all day, each day was joyful for them, each one having the ability to enjoy their lives, while Gregorii got to sleep in a half-broken barnyard, he hated them too, if he wasn't so ambitious, he'd settle for killing the rich instead.

He looked at a destroyed Farm House, whoever lived their was likely too dead to complain about Gregorii sleeping their, the harsh crowded city was replaced by a cold open hill, which was utterly silent and lonely, he felt more alone than anyone else in the world, with Culmith gone, he had no one to talk to, no one to share drinks with, no one to enjoy life with, he'd taken a mop for a friend, and it was a shitty one too.

He pushed open the door, causing it to almost fall off it's hinges, all of a sudden he saw red, he looked at the ground and spotted a pile of disgusting rats, in a pile fighting over a rotten piece of meat, Gregorii felt anger fill his veins, with a yell he jumped in the air, falling ontop of the rats, six of the rat's were too busy fighting over a morsel of meat, to notice the incoming death from above, with a squish the filthy creature's were deader than dead, Gregorii had avenged his family once more, rat's were the instrument's of the gods, whenever they wanted a plague, the rat's carried out their actions, the plague didn't kill Gregorii's mother and father, rats did, they took his youth, his happiness, his sun, he'd burn the dead rats, but it'd be a insult to fire. Gregorii stuffed the rat's into a bag, hoping to use them to a later purpose, if the god's used Rat's to ruin his life, than it only made sense for him to use dead rat's to ruin theirs. after making a fire, he laid down on the hard cold floor, curling up into a ball in order to stay warm, but it was useless, he hadn't felt warmth in a year straight, his heart was numb with hate and sadness, he'd cry, but he cried so many times, his eye's had shriveled and dried up like raisins, eventually he got so exhausted he fell asleep.

While he slept, he dreamed that he was sitting on a nice hill, he was a kid again, full of youth and vigor, without the hate it came with, he sat in his home at Razor, his house was close enough to the surface, that there was a window leading towards the sun, he laid down in a ray of sunshine, smiling as he basked in it's warmth, staring directly at the sun, though it didn't hurt his eye's one bit, it felt pleasing, he felt happy.

Then Gregorii woke to the sound of two horses yelling, he yelled a swear word loudly, the window was replaced with a hole in the wall, instead of the sun, there was a blank void where it should be, the ray of sunshine was gone, so was his youth, he was now a grumpy old fart again, laying down in a ray of cold, wishing it was sunlight, he got up, pushing the already half-broken door off it's hinges, dragging bloody sack filled to the brim with dead rat's, two of the rat's were tied together using a crude rope, like ninja-chucks, only messier. Anger drummed into Gregorii's head again, he saw the faint outline of a giant rat with two hideous beady eyes staring at him, he felt anger flood his vein's, turning him from a sad old geezer, to a angry middle-aged man, he yelled as he ran towards the rat, beating it bloody with a mop, the giant rat tried in vain to fight back, but Gregorii smacked and whacked and sacked the Rat, whipping the hideous creature with a bag of dead rats, Gregorii screeched like a monster, beating the rat until he stopped moving, and then some more, and even more, the rat was dead but Gregorii was still kicked and yelling and screeching, letting out any energy he had into his swings, the filthy rat stole his sun, stole his family and his life. a hour passed, Gregorii was sweating with exhaustion, the rat wasn't even a rat anymore, it was a torn apart bloody mess that vaguely resembles a rat, Gregorii yelled weakly, kicking the creature one last time. Then falling to the ground, going back to sleep, back to his dream's of a happy life. one better than the garbage fire known as reality.

Culmith sat bored in the wagon as Gregorii entered the building, but soon grew restless and left the wagon. It’s only for a little bit. He walked around for a bit, but when he got back, the wagon was gone. “Son of a bitch!” He exclaimed. Culmith stood dismayed for a while in the streets, but eventually realized he needed somewhere to sleep. He began to wander looking for an abandoned building or two. He ultimately decided on an abandoned house. It's the best I can do. Inside he found a parlor, with a hallway that lead to what was once a kitchen, a bedroom, and a staircase where the roof collapsed upon, barring him from venturing further up the house. Culmith carefully walked into the kitchen, searching through the cupboards for something of value or even some moldy bread.
Culmith searches the cupboards. Hungry and rushed, he found nothing that hasn't been long since picked over by rats. Though frustrated, Culmith heard faint footfalls behind him. Culmith turned around quickly, drawing his blade. Guards? Or perhaps a robber? Even a monster? Culmith turned around just in time to see a figure emerge from the shadows. A tall lanky man brandished a dagger from his belt, wearing a leather jerkin and a toothless sneer. "You cannot have it! It's mine!" Culmith slashed at the man, not even bothering to ask what he wants. “Back!” Culmith drew his blade, slashing at the man. Though quick, the thug proved quicker, slashing at Culmith's hand causing him to drop his blade. The thug sneered, "I'll gut you quick!" He stabbed at Culmith with a flash, but got turned by Culmiths scale armor. Culmith took the thug’s failed attack as an opportunity to try and pick up his short sword. Upon picking it up, the thug struck again. "It's mine!"
The dagger scraped against the plate armor, sparks flying, but it failed to pierce flesh. Culmith attacked again. “Whatever you’re after, I️ simply want a place to sleep!” The thug growled as the blade cut into his arm, his parry useless against the longer blade. With a defiant howl, he struck yet again...Going for Culmith's throat, he failed to get past his guard. Culmith attacked back. "I repeat, I merely wish for lodging. If there is treasure in this house, it will be all yours!" The blade went wide as the thug nimbly sidestepped the strikes. "Bullshit!" He raised his knife to strike again...This time the blade pierced flesh, finding a weakness in the plate and striking Culmith's abdomen.
Now Culmith grew angry. "You want a fight, you bastard. You'll get it. I'll kill you, and take whatever you're after." He slashed at the man with more vigor than before. Culmith cut through the man's torso, blood spilling onto the dirty floor of the house. Culmith stepped to the dying man. "I gave you a goddamn chance. You blew it." And with those final words, Culmith began hacking at the man. Again and again, as his face grew furious. Finally, after what felt like hours, he got up, shook the blood off of his blade, and entered the bedroom. It was quite bare, so he merely opened his bedroll and slept.

Eudaxia

Eudaxia's awareness returned gradually. First there was the throbbing. It felt as if her heart had decided to squeeze itself into her head to try and awaken her with its pounding beat. Then a sharper pain in her leg as feeling returned to her extremities. She made a feeble attempt to move, but couldn't do more than wriggle. She was locked in a stock. She hung limply on her knees in the rough wood's grasp, her entire body aching with the strain of the position. She could feel swelling in beftween her horns where she must have been knocked out by the guard.

Groggily opening her eyes to slits, she turned her attention externally, taking in the dim light of her surroundings. The first thing she noticed was that the chamber she was in was far from quiet. Opposite her were cells crammed to the brim with rowdy people emanating a stench of sweat and filth, which overflowed their contents onto chains that hung from the walls. She wasn't alone in the stocks either. She turned her head, hearing the clinking of the irons around her ankles behind her as she struggled. A fiery haired dwarf was constrained on her left, and she could make out the distinctive ears of a half-elf on the prisoner to her right. Both hung limply like she did.

A slow fear began to creep into her chest as she processed her situation. She was at the keep. In the belly of its dungeon. Crackling torches lit its dark walls, and she could spot a wrought iron door out of the corner of her eye on the left. Other than that there was no exit. The walls of interlocking stone were bare save for where they were draped in rusty iron chains. Despite her discordant lifestyle, she had never been dragged back to prison before, and every narrow escape and mad scramble through the streets had been fuelled by a secret dread of ending up in this place.

Now she was finally here. She supressed the feeling. It was useful on the outside, but not anymore. She had no idea what awaited her. She needed to weigh her options, but first she needed information.

"How long... have I been out?" she rasped towards the other prisoners. Her tongue felt thick and dry like sandpaper in her mouth. The dwarf turned to look at her, but said nothing. She tried again, her foggy mind beginning to tick, asking about how often the guard passed and her belongings. There was a chance he knew where they would be taken.

The Dwarf growled beside her. "Who the fuck knows, tiefling. The guards come when they feel like it. They can come anytime as far as I'm concerned and open this bloody stock!"

She lapsed into silence. Escape was impossible in her current state, even without the stock, she was too weak. But maybe there was a chance she could talk her way out of this. She ran over what had happened in the square again in her mind. If she could convince them she wasn't a magic user, there was a slim chance they would listen.

"What's the point. We're all going to die." The half elf beside her muttered. She could see he had a scar above one of his eyes now, which were wild, his gaze making her uncomfortable. Even restrained in his stock, he seemed jumpy and skittish.

"If they were going to kill us, they wouldn't have bothered with the stocks" she said firmly... but not entirely convinced. She shouldn't hang, not for stall pinching. But who knew what they would do to her. she was half surprised the brutes from the watch hadn't just thrown her into a gutter to bleed out. Just the thought of being at their mercy made her want to thrash and squirm in her stock until she was free, no matter the damage she would do to herself.

The sound of keys jingling came from the iron door at the end of the room. "Nerull is coming. He swallows the world. His shadow calls." The elf sobbed.

what the hell. "Quiet" she hissed. Though his words gave her goosebumps. There had been much mentioning of demons this night. "get a grip man. what are you in for anyway?"

Only the iron door replied, its hinges complaining as they were swung open. A grey bearded man in a white robe strode in with a bad at his side, a guard lounging behind him. A relative silence came over the chamber as he approached the stockade, observing his three prisoners.

"Salutations. I am Wilo and I shall be your host during your stay. As you can see we are exceedingly busy for Founders Day, so you may be here for some time before the Lord's magistrate can hear your case. Until that time, be on your best behaviour and we will get along just fine." he said. There was something discomforting about the man, and it took Eudaxia a moment to put her finger on it. It wasn't that he spoke as if he were simply an innkeeper explaining the house rules. It was that he was very clean. Freakishly so. Despite working in a filthy dungeon, no grime soiled his white robe. His nails were neat and free of dirt. Even his long beard was combed and had no food in it.

This was a man from a different world than Eudaxia, she thought. If she was lucky, he would also be free of its prejudices. "Please" she said. "I shouldn't be here. I was haggling with a merchant. They used me as a scapegoat!"

"Save it for the magistrate." Wilo replied coolly.

She hesitated, then changed tack. "The case... what will it involve?" she asked. She needed to know what chance she had. On the streets, few would trust a tiefling's word. She was trash. Nobles saw her as even more so. But from experience she knew some in higher society could be so sanctimonious it could override even that.

"First, let's see to your wounds." The man approached, kneeling down beside Eudaxia and pulling a small bottle from his bag. She could feel her leg sting painfully as he poured a clear liquid over it, wiping it away afterwards with a cloth, but the pain brought a kind of relief, and clarity. "An account will be given by the arresting officers and witnesses. The magistrate may or may not ask for your testimony. He will then determine your guilt."

"Shaemus, the Larethian Priest... he would vouch for me... He was with me that evening..." she said weakly. It was a gamble, since he knew she could do magic, but he might speak out for her.

The old man rolled up his sleeves, pulling out a needle and thread. He began stitching her wound. "I shall make a note of it."

"So how long will I need to rot here for?" she asked as he worked.

"Until the magistrate can see you. Likely until after Founder's Day" he replied, beginning to bandage her leg.

She couldn't wait that long. Founder's Day was too good a chance to make money. "But this guy won't stop going on about the shadow of Nerull... and I was just buying a walking stick for my friend... please..." she did her best to give him a pleading look.

he peered into her eyes, appearing to reach a decision. "We will get to the bottom of it, my dear. Do not fret. "he turned to the lethargic guard, wrapping the leg tight with bandages. "We will question her next. Fix her upon the rack in the morning." the old man said standing up, moving back towards the door and missing Eudaxia's expression of horror. "Good night one and all." he said as they disappeared behind the door, locking it with a resonating, final click.

---

The night passed in slow agony. She tried to sleep, but between the half elf whispering his disturbing mantra to her right, and the accumulating pain of her bonds, she could not rest. The fate that awaited her come morning hanging over her, she spent the time in a kind of daze. Alternately raging and despairing over her predicament within the confines of her mind, as she went over the events of the night over and over. How it had all gone so wrong. The ones in the crowd who'd attacked her. The one who'd tackled her had used her magic. She was sure of it. What did that mean? What had he wanted from her? Her thoughts tumbled into confusion as she finally entered some parody of sleep.

The reprise of the door's hinges roused her from her stupor. She felt exhausted and afraid, but part of her was happy the wait was over. She managed to stand up as the two guards unlocked her stock, snatching the brief of moment to stretch and bring some relief to her protesting muscles. They weren't a pretty couple. One was short with a lazy eye. The other's face was almost entirely covered by a badly done tattoo. She didn't need to put much weight on her injured leg, as the guards then began to practically drag her from the room.

"Hope you had a good rest tiefling" Lazy eye said.

"Aye," tattoo smirked. "Wilo has a taxing morning in store for you, I'm sure." Eudaxia didn't reply, instead steeling herself for the trial ahead. Beyond the iron door lay a collection of empty cells, probably for more permanent residents. They went past these, through another door. This chamber somehow seemed darker. An old rack, also of iron, dominated the centre with the weight of its history.

Wilo was waiting for them. Both he and the room were unusually clean. "Strap her to the rack" he ordered, his face grim.

Eudaxia regarded the rack. "You don't even care about the truth do you?" she asked, afraid. If this man wasn't interested in her innocence, if he just wanted to hear a confession, then she didn't stand a chance.

The guards pushed her forward, tattoo gripping her horns with the same smug smirk as he pushed her backward onto the rack as lazy eye strapped in her limbs and waist. Wilo shook his head. "My dear, the truth is all I care for. I take no pleasure in this, really."

"And I wonder how many poor souls have screamed confessions to things they haven't done in this room, to end their pain." she said, letting her anger surface to try and hide her fear. She regarded him defiantly. "Know however that I will not be one of them."

The gaoler sighed as he watched her being tied. "Torture serves two purposes, both as a deterrent to crime, and to surmise the truth. My methods are honed, I assure you. I can decipher the panicked cries of the desperate from that of the truth. I fear your confidence is ill placed. I've seen many a stout heart cave to my methods."

The bonds tightened. Eudaxia could feel her body being pressed against the cold iron, and her heart beating furiously in her chest. She could make only the tiniest of movements. This is really happening. Wilo checked the bindings, pulling on them and checking for slack. He nodded to the guards, and they took their leave, the door slammed closed, sealing her in with Wilo. He sighed, his tone no less grim. "Alone at last."

The silence that followed was too much for her to bear. "Well?" she said. "Let's get this mockery of justice over with."

The jailer regarded her seriously. "I give you this one last chance to confess, my dear.... Did you attempt thievery upon the merchants of Hero's Square?"

Uncertainty filled her. Was this really worth getting tortured over? She couldn't know how they would punish her. She could end up a slave. But there was more than that. She didn't want to prove them right about her. "No." she said obstinately. "I was buying a gift for my friend."

His eyes narrowed. "Are you proficient with the use of magic?"

The question was unexpected so soon, but the one she wanted. He had looked into her case. The urchin gave a condescending laugh. "Do I look like a descendant of Godsbane's?"

The old man stroked his scraggly beard. "No, I suppose not." he said finally. "Yet there was some trickery you employed, according to witnesses. I will get to the bottom of it." She lost sight of him as he retreated into a dark corner of the room. This is it, he's going to pull a lever and pull me apart on the rack. But that's not what happened.

It was far worse.

A collection of fine silver instruments gleamed from the case Wilo brought on his return. Knives, needles, screws and tiny saws. All very sharp and of course, all impeccably clean. He selected a long thin needle, its point reflecting the small amount of light in the room, and gazed down at her with what looked like pity, his gaze shifting to her hands. Her fingernails. "I really do wish this wasn't necessary". He said.

she sneered. "Admit it. It doesn't matter what I say. You're just as bad as the rest."

"I am but a servant of Haven, my dear. Not long ago I would have taken your hands. You should consider yourself lucky." he admonished.

Then he got to work.

And Eudaxia discovered she could move vigorously on the rack after all.

Leaving the needle in its place, Wilo pulled out another. "Its okay to scream, my dear, in fact it may help to cope with the pain." He said exercising his dark craft one needle at a time.

"taken the hands... of an innocent... without evidence..." she pressed on stubbornly once he paused. "Just because nobody trusts my kind. Haven was supposed to be just for all... or do your gods hate tieflings too?" she finished with shaky breaths, holding on to the act. But it was only partly an act. This was the resentment she'd carried since childhood.

"Your kind are the spawn of unholy mingling of demons and mortals, tiefling" he said without mercy. "but I know your will is your own, and have a capacity to do good or harm... A shame you've chosen the latter. What is your name?"

"Eu...daxia" she whispered. He had spoken dispassionately. She believed him. He really took no pleasure in doing this to her. She hated him anyway for what he represented.

"Where were you born, Eudaxia?"

She shook her head against the pain. "I don't know... I was abandoned... I've lived in Haven all my life..." she answered in part honesty. Painful memories of her parents filling her mind, almost worse than the needles themselves in her vulnerable state. "this is none of your business! It doesn't have anything to do with anything!"

"Perhaps you're right. I am merely trying to get to know you, Eudaxia. The real you, that is. Even now, you're far too wilful. You will break. They always do." He shook his head. "You mentioned your Gods...." Pain exploded in her hands as Wilo began to twist his instruments free. "Tell me, what Gods do you worship?"

"I worship nothing!" she screamed, pain mixing with contempt. Even as she spoke, fear of the one from her dreams shot through her mind, but she kept the denial out of her voice. "The gods have done nothing for me. I still remember the light of the sun they took. I've been born the form of a monster... and those who follow their ideals have shown nothing but hypocrisy to me."

"Bitter and resentful of the Gods... Such was the way in Haven for a long time, but no more. Look where such an outlook has landed you, my dear Eudaxia!" The old man shook his head sorrowfully.

she managed to muster a sneer. "yet you torture me so piously. You're blinded by self-righteousness like all the rest." A morbid part of her told her she would never win, because the bastard would never have it in him to admit he was wrong about her.

"The truth lights my way, my dear. Gives me sight." The old man disposed of the needles in a clay bowl upon a table, looking back at Eudaxia, his eyes lingering upon her shaking thigh. "Let us see how your wound is faring." He kneeled down, gingerly unwrapping the bandages. "I am pleased to see its a clean wound."

she looked down at her leg. "I don't regret running." she said. "I'm no fool. Those guards would not have stopped to ask questions and find out what happened."

The old man moved back to the table, pulling a small knife and pincer from his case. "But you are a fool, or guilty, or both! For only they would flee if innocent." He kneeled down, griping the stitching thread with the pincer, and slowly undoing the stitch, opening the wound.

"Then you are deluded." she said scornfully. "The city watch are no paragons of justice. At least not to my kind."

Wilo paused in his work. "You're right. That I cannot deny... I still intend to get to the bottom of this."

"Tell me..." she egged on, sensing a chance. "How much coin did the watch turn over from me? I had 10 gold pieces to my name. and 250 silver from the very watch themselves. For crawling for rats in the sewers."

"I will ask the questions here." He punctuated the point with his knife, and she howled as it entered the wound. "Are you gifted with the use of arcana, Eudaxia?"

She reeled. She could resist the pain, but it made thinking so hard. "Well?" he said, twisting the knife deeper. "Can you wield magic?"

"I am no arcanist... I have no power... or education. I have only the tiny power all Tieflings have. To change the colour of their eyes or make their voice boom." she said, letting helplessness into her voice.

The old man scratched his beard... "So the mere unholy gifts you were born with, hmm? Perhaps." The old man retrieved more needles, and Eudaxia felt them all in her leg. One explosion of pain after another, making her body shake and shudder.

It was too much. She thrashed and screamed without restraint. No. Please no. God. Stop. I can't take it any more.

Wilo struck, sensing weakness. "Did you attempt to rob the merchant?" he shouted.

Of course she had. She was guilty. But she had been innocent, once. It was this city that taken that from her and made her into what she was. And now it pinned her down, filling her with pain, punishing her for just trying to survive. She hated it. She hated that tyranny. The little girl inside her that had been abandoned cried out for justice. Even if she really was a liar and a thief, she couldn't let them see her as one, just to prove those bastards wrong about tieflings, even if it was a sham.

"I wanted to buy a stick for my friend... in the sewers... he was kind to me..." she moaned.

Wilo sighed. "I believe there is truth in what you say... Yet you are holding something back. I know it." He pulled the pins free and closed up the wound before bandaging it. Eudaxia lay limply. She heard a banging on the door seconds later. "I'm done here!" It opened, and the two guards step inside, moving over to the rack and unfastening the straps.

Wilo's sharp eyes pierced into Eudaxia's hazy ones. "The magistrate will get a full report." I doubt you attempted any thievery, nor that you wield any arcana beyond that of your tiefling heritage. The magistrate will take it as he may. May justice prevail, and may you find the Gods yet, Eudaxia."

She made no response as she was carried away. She'd done it. She hadn't broken. She'd proved them wrong about her. It was a victory. It mattered.

That's what she told herself.

At the stall, the merchant, a pot bellied fellow with a hook nose and slanted eyes catches you lingering by his supposed enchanted chest. "You there, do you have the will to open a chest that contains such vast riches it is locked by some spell?!"

Sylvia put a finger to the side of her lips, pouting it one direction. "Hmmm..." She didn't meet his eye for a few seconds, looking over the chest. "Is it 10 gold to try and open it, or ten gold to buy it for myself?" She didn't actually care, but if she could take it and run that'd help her chances.

"Step right up and try your hand at opening it! I swear not ten of the strongest men could open this chest! Ten gold and it is yours!"

"Ten gold it is then." She would be pretty much flat broke after this, but something drew her here. Besides, she had just gotten a job. She fished the coins from her bag and handed them gently over to the man. "If you're lying to me though, I WILL haunt you after I die." She said it with a smile, only a pinch of reality in the threat.

The merchant smiles wide, taking the ten gold. "On my honor, lady. Fetched from the wastes of Amnon, within the ruin of the Faded Kings of Runestone! A king's treasure it is, I'm sure! Why else would it be enchanted so?!"

Sylvia took hold of the weighty chest. She wouldn't be able to carry this thing around all day without it becoming a problem. She decided to take a small detour and place the chest in the safe keeping of the inn she had been staying in. "Some copper for your troubles." She payed the keeper some of her last coin to assure her new bounty wouldn't be spirited away while she was gone.

Beside the stall, the caravan master thumps his spear down with a resonating thud. "Is this all?! Is this all among you who dare the road to Ravenhold?"

Returning back to the docks, somewhat out of breath from jogging the whole way, she was happy to see the caravan master still there. "Another pair of hands here!" She waved at him, trodding to a stop when she neared him. "I've got a good sword arm, and enough wit for the lot of you."

"Very well!" Barked the master. "I'm not one to put a woman in harm's way, but you have the look of fighter, and I need bodies between me and the cudgels of those brigands!" He climbed over his mountain of goods, thumping down at the head of his wagon and snapping the reins, the two horses moving at a quick trot. "To Ravenhold! To Ravenhold! Gold in your pockets for the safety of my goods!"
Sylvia see's two others begin to jog alongside the wagon. One is a dwarf clad in chainmail and a greataxe slung across his back. The other wears a leather tunic and hood, daggers line his belt and a bows and arrows hang across his back.
A second wagon lurches out of an alley way, following the lead wagon.

Sylvia sidled up near to the other two recent hires, just hoping to get some feeling of who she'd be working with for the time. "Ello ello, how and who are you two?" She grinned at the pair, making sure to be on the right side of them, as to keep them out of her blindspot.

The dwarf exhaled loudly, his beard forked in three braids. "Yotan Boarfist," he said with a nod, his short legs hammering into the cobblestone street as he jogged. "They expect us to run the whole way to Ravenhold?!"

"Nice to meet you, names Sylvia. Sylvia Salt-Hand." She chuckled a little at his complaint. "I won't tell if you take a sit down on the cart for a while." She eyed the human next, squinting at them a little. "And yourself? Got a name?"

"Yup." he said simply, looking straight ahead.

Sylvia shrugged in response. Quiet types like these were best left alone. "An interesting name. Must be foreign." She chided, though she stopped there. "Well if either of you feel like chatting, I'll be watching the other side of the caravan for now." She changed her pace to fall behind the wagon, then circled to the opposite side. It didn't make much sense to have all three guards in one spot. She huffed though when she was alone. The dwarf made a pretty good point. This trip would be tiring if they kept on foot at this pace.

The caravan went on for several hours, making a fast pace through the winding road that, thankfully, kept to the lowlands and winding around hills of dead brush and rock. The landscape was utterly black on this moonless light, with only the stars twinkling above to offer any respite from the blackness. Garot, the surly caravan master, had ordered all lights on the wagons to be snuffed out, and almost seemed to be blindly trusting his horses to stay on the road
Outside of Haven, the road was lined with lantern posts, but that only went on for a mile or so past the crossroads before they went dark. The trod of horses, creak of wagon, and the panting of Boarfist was all that could be heard.

Sylvia scans the shadows, squinting to pierce the opaque shroud that blankets their surroundings, however it is of little use. One can only hope that if something was to encroach upon the caravan, perhaps the horses will detect it.
The group presses on. Boarfist begins complaining but is silenced by Garot, who whispers a threat of not paying the mouthbreather. It was soon after that a bird was heard in the distance - an owl hooting.

with the grunt of the wagon driver, servants and slaves among the caravan are struck with panic, some dive under the wagons, others taking shelter by their sturdy wheels. "Ready yourselves!" Hollers Garot as he pulls something from his cloak. He holds it in the air, speaking some strange tongue. To everyone's wonder, the orb lights up, hovering high in the sky and illuminating bright as the sun. Amazingly, night shrinks away and it is as if it was day.

Garot, upon tossing up his magical stone, takes his spear in hand, eyeing the closest bandit, a mere 25 feet from him, and throws his spear with a cry....
the spear strikes the bandit, but looks to only graze him.
The bandit leader, shielding his eyes from the light of the orb, gives a warcry, descending the hill from which he's perched and rushing forward to attack the ranger...
he slashes at the ranger, who manages to jump backward, but not before getting a nasty cut across his chest
the bandit archer takes aim at Garot, the caravan leader and wielder of the magical orb is too good a target to pass up, and from his elevated position he should have an advantage...
However the shot goes wide
the other two bandits rush toward the caravan, following their captain, and strike out at the ranger...
The ranger is flanked, accustomed to fighting at range, he is now nearly surrounded...
there is little he can do, attempting to duck and dodge the blades coming at him, yet he is pierced, and suffers a grave wound.

The ranger dives away from the fight, shrinking back behind the cover of the wagons, and firing an arrow at his attackers...
However he is wounded, and fires too quick, missing his mark.
Boarfist bravely charges the enemies, running between the wagons and bringing his axe down on the closest bandit...
the dwarf sinks his greataxe into the skull of the bandit with a sickening crunch, killing him instantly.

Sylvia charges the bandit leader with her rapier in hand, selecting him as her current dueling opponent. She attempts a stab to his chest.

Her blade slices at the bandit's studded leather armor. It has turned away the worst of the blow, but she perceive a tear in the armor and blood. The captain growls. "Try it again, bitch!"
The last bandit rushes ahead, seeing his captain being targeted he makes to aid him, targeting Sylvia...
he swings, but his blow is slow and clumsy, and easily avoided
Garot hops off the wagon, unsheathing a longsword, he makes his way around the back of the wagon, his sword gleaming in the light as he strikes at the bandit before him.
the bandit flanked, Sylvia in front of him and Garot beside, his defense is feeble, and Garot cuts into him.
The bandit leader roars, rage and spittle flying at Sylvia...
his blade rushes forward, locked in a dance of duel with the pirate, but he gains the upper hand, and leaves a devastating gash in Sylvia's forearm...

the bandit archer takes aim, but Garon, his prior mark is behind the wagon. He instead takes aim at Sylvia, who is now at the forefront of her comrades...
either from poor aim, or a fear of striking his comrades, the bandit's shot goes wide, hitting the side of the wagon with a thud.

The ranger, badly hurt but keeping his composure the best he can, takes aim with his bow and fires at the enemy archer...
the shot hits, striking the archer in the shoulder.

The enemy bandit, seeing his captain slowly being surrounded, advances to support his leader...
he engages Boarfist, lashing at the stout dwarf with his scimitar...
The blade cuts into the dwarf, finding a weak spot in his chainmail. The dwarf winces. "Just a scratch!"
The dwarf counters the enemy's blow...
the bandit is able to bring his blade up just in time, and deflect the blow into the ground beside him,

"Gladly!" Sylvia retorts through clenched teeth. The pain of her arm burning through her side. She lunges forward at the bandit leader again with her blade. Though the captain, now focused on Sylvia, parry's her strikes, clearly well versed at sword play. The bandit strikes as Sylvia wrestles with the captain's blade, landing a lucky blow, but it grievous...

Slipping in and out of consciousness, she see a blur that looks like Garot striking at the bandit that landed the incapacitating blow against her...
his longsword runs through the brigands chest, killing him.
The bandit leader turns his attention to Garot. "Had enough yet?!"
he lands a severe blow against the caravan master, knocking him backward.
the archer perched upon his vantage point, fires his bow...
it catches Boarfist in the shoulder. He snaps the arrow in half with a growl.
the other bandit strikes against the dwarf, hoping to catch him off guard from the arrow...
but Boarfist brings his axe up in time, knocking the blow wide.
from behind the wagon, the ranger fires his bow
the arrow sinks into the brigands chest. He gasps, falling to his knees before slumping forward.
boarfist swings his axe at the captain with a how, the bandit leader raising his sword to parry...
but his blow is deflected.

your vision blurry, you see the captain's sword flash above you...
you think you hear the sound of Garon cursing, steel biting steel...
"You cannot have it Valmer!"
"It is mine!"

The biting of steel could be heard in the distance, meanwhile firm hands seize Sylvia... "Stupid woman!" says a voice.
Sylvia can feel a cool liquid brush against her lips, filling her mouth... it feels replenishing... Sylvia comes too, seeing the ranger propping her up, an empty vial in his hands. "You're lucky you're not dead!"

Sylvia flutters her eye open dramatcially, looking up at the man. "So you can talk". She pushed herself up onto her own two feet. "Thank you love, luck is a friend of mine actually."

Over at the fight between bandit and your comrades, she can see Boarfist sink his axe into the Valmer's shoulder. "Tag in!" Sylvia cheers, jumping back into combat without hesitation. Selecting the same man again as her dueling opponent. She takes a swipe with her rapier once more.

Sylvia lands her blow across the brigands shoulder, cutting deep...
The captain's attention is turned for a fraction of a second, giving Garot the opening he needs to land a critical hit, driving his longsword right through his gut...
The captain steps back with a grimace. His comrades dead, bleeding and gravely wounded, his eyes begin darting around for escape... "Stop," the bandit pleaded. "I yield!"
"Drop your sword, Valmer." Garot returned, gripping his longsword tight.
"Just let me go... You'll never see me again, Garot. You have my word."
"Your word means nothing to me."

"Turning out your pockets might make a few of us a little more merciful." Syliva cut in. "Fuck what's in his pockets," chimed in the ranger, stepping forward, blood dripping from his arm. "How much you think the Haven Watch will pay for this brigand?"
"We're headed for Ravenhold!" Garot reminded him. "If he's wanted dead then he wouldn't be as much trouble to take along." The pirate woman argued. "They pay more if they get a hanging," the ranger said, eyeing the bandit darkly.The bandit growled, raising his sword once more. "You'll have to take me dead, wretches!"

"So be it." Garot said grimly.
Valmer let out a pained holler, striking at the caravan master...
his blow is reckless, and is easily deflected wide

Another miss on Valmer. This bandit seems exceptionally hard to hit, but now Garot will take another blow. He comes at him with his eyes afire...
Garot plunges his longsword into Valmer's chest. The bandit gives a final defeated gasp, before falling to the ground.
Garot turned to his hirelings. "Looks like you boys earned yourself a bonus! Strap these bodies to the carriage, and you can turn them in for the bounty. And hop on, we'll ride from here."

"Lovely. What are your feelings on their possessions?" Sylvia inquired, as she returned her sword to her side. He points his sword to Valmer. "He's mine. Loot the rest." With a nod of the head Sylvia looked to the other two. "Fair enough. 3 equal parts?" She gestured to the different bodies littering the ground. "Aye," said Boarfist. "We pool our findings, divide it fairly, like."
"What's mine is mine," argued the ranger. "I ain't sharing." With the sour look only a mother or teacher could give, Sylvia replied. "Oh come off it. You'd probably get more if we split it. It's not like we'll let you take it all for yourself."

The ranger laughs, then stops to wince, slightly holding his side. "Oh? Are you gonna come take it from me?"

She looks him up and down, clutching his side in pain. "In the state you're in? I'd just have to wait for a stiff wind to do the job." She then looked to Boarfist. "Besides, our friend here who also wants to split it killed more then either of us, you really think you can take him and me at the same time?"

The ranger bit his lip. "Fine."
He knelt down, and began going through the pockets of the brigands. Syliva nods. "Good man." before going to check another of the bodies. Sylvia returns to the other two . "Here's what the one had on him." She made sure to show the full amount found. She didn't want to be a hypocrite and pocket anything after the last conversation. Boarfist grunts. "Nice little purse on this one, 20 gold pieces and fifty o' silver."
The ranger scratches the back of his neck. "This one had some pearls on him." He shows a pouch of 9 pearls. "Decent haul so far. I can check the last one over." She handed the coins to Boarfist, freeing them to look at the last bandit.

Sylvia can see Garot leaning over Valmer, slipping an amulet from his neck. "It did you little good, anyway." He whispered. She continues on to the body...

Checking the final body, Sylvia finds a quiver of arrows. At first glance it doesn't seem like much, but upon closer look she can see the arrows are fashioned from living wood, crafted over a decade ago when there was a sun. Sylvia continues patting down the archer. she finds 9gp, 13 sp, 10 coppers. She also spots a gold ring as well, inset with a ruby.

"Hey, not a bad find on this one!" She gathered up the items to show to the other two. "Some fancy arrows, a chunk more coin and a nice looking ring." She displayed them as best she could with the lack of light.

Spending a fair bit of time counting things out and divvying it up, Sylvia stated: "So that would be 10 gold, 29 silver, 6 copper, 3 pearls and 4 arrows each. Then there's the ring." She looked to the others for signs of argue. "I'd be willing to trade in some cash for the ring, I like my jewelry." The ranger nods. "I wouldn't mind those arrows."

"The peals have my eye, if we're bein' tellin' the truth," said Boarfist. "Alright, well if we each want one of them I wouldn't argue. Boar can take the pearls, Yup'll have the arrows and I can take the ring then?" Sylvia began reaching for her share before the ranger protested.

"No. I want a couple of those pearls." said the ranger.
"What?!" Scoffed Boarfist. "Then give a couple arrows!"
"What are you going to do with a couple arrows?!"
"Business o' yours what I do with 'em?!"

"He could sell them." Sylvia sighed. "Let's just keep things civil please."

"Those pearls are worth an easy 10 gold a piece! How much you think you get for an arrow?!" The ranger deftly reached forward, grasping at the pearls...
Boarfist slammed his square guantlet down with a thud, trapping the rangers hand with a shudder. The ranger gritted his teeth against the pain. "You'll pay for that!"
With a flash the ranger reached down for his dagger, bringing his freehand up with a glint of steel.

He plunges the blade down in the forearm of the Dwarf, A leather bracer grinds against the blade, but tears as the blade pierces flesh
The dwarf bears his teeth through his fiery beard. "I should kill you for that!"
The call of Garot breaks the tension, though animosity lingers. "Let's go, we're moving out. Ravenhold is just ahead!"
The caravan master was already atop his wagon, and snapping the reins, his wagon lurching forward.

Sylvia snatches up the coin, ring and pearls. Leaving the rangers share and the arrows. "You're a greedy idiot, words you shouldn't take lightly from a pirate. I'm taking whats ours and you should count yourself lucky we're leaving anything for you at all, let alone leaving you breathing."

The ranger glared after her. "I only want what's fair. I saved your life, after all!"
Boarfist lifted his gauntlet from the rangers hand. The ranger slowly pulled it back to him, it was stiff and looked broken. They both jumped up on the wagon, the ranger on the back end.

At the first chance she had, Sylvia gave the dwarf his share and the pearls. "This has been less than pleasant." She muttered, looking around her as the cart moved. "But at least you're off your feet now ay?" She kept an eye on the Ranger, not really trying to hide er glances. She didn't think he'd slit their throats or anything, but she wasn't going to risk it. He seemed selfish at best, and unstable at the worst

The ranger merely looked sullenly out the back end. Boarfist laughed. "Oh aye. If every bone in my body didn't hurt like hades, maybe I'd be havin' a nap!"

After about ten more minutes the caravan came to a dark castle, cut of blackened stone, and built high into sharp peaks and daunting battlements...

---

It is the coming of a new day in the city of Haven. Rebirth, rejuvenation, a new dawn, such things hold the promise of a new dawn, yet there is no dawn to speak of - only eternal night. In such times one can only find a brief respite before the drudgery of a doomed life goes on. Yet the people of Haven do their best to put there troubles aside as Founders Day comes ever closer.

It is a cool morning, with a sky is black, no moon nor stars penetrate a heavy canopy of clouds above. The air is damp, warning of a coming rain and the people gather in the city squares and parlours to discuss news and rumours of an eventful night.

City Watch patrol Slaver's Square in great number, looking for escaped goblins following a daring escape last night. It is said that a Dwarven warrior named Grimblade taunted a goblin wizard, who freed his wretched brethren before being cleaved in two by the warrior.

Rumours abound that a group of adventurers unraveled the mystery surrounding thirteen missing women, and attacked a hag's hovel in the farmlands outside the city, slaying the horrid creature and putting the souls of the thirteen dead to rest. A sad outcome to be sure, but comfort was to be taken in the news that the hag was dead. It is news that swept through the city, and for years to come, children would be warned to behave for fear of being taken by the ghost of Old Bavaora.

With the coming of Founders Day, so to came an outbreak of crime, with reports of wagons being stolen, cutpurses using magic to rob merchants in Hero's Square, and a daring attack on guards at Founder's Keep. This was hardly new news, however, as the city is plagued by crime.

With Founders Day a mere day away, travelers continue to flock to the city, braving the moonless nights to join in the festivities.

---

Ahrem frowns, wiping the spit away from his face as his other hand curled into a fist. A small temptation had lingered in his head of drawing his sword and running the thief through- the guards surely wouldn’t have minded it, given their racial remarks. In the end, however, Ahrem shook his head and walked away, without another word.

One guard gives the tiefling thief a firm backhand, knocking her unconscious before they drag the limp, bleeding body away.
Meanwhile, as the thief is arrested, Saya spots a stall, isolated within the square, hidden away behind crates of goods and a carriage, unmarked. Not exactly inviting to passers by, and with nothing really identifying it as a herbalist stand other then a row of dried herbs hanging above. The stall itself is cut from dead black wood, poorly fashoined, and tied together with hemp rope and jagged protruding nails.

Saya awaited the return of Ahrem as she eyed the stall from a safe distance. When he gets to her she quietly states "I found the stall in the corner... Keep watch, I'll go check it out." Having said it, keeping her hood up she slips away and approaches the stall.Ahrem nodded, making sure to watch Saya’s back for any shady fellows. Saya looks over the desk, finding some odd etchings carved into the surface of the stall counter. They're numerical scratches, numbering 13. Saya glanced around for whoever may be the shopkeep of the establishment, slowly taking her hood off as well in case it draws their attention. "Hello?" She called out quietly. The only answer comes as a cold breeze, tugging at Saya's cloak and making her shiver.

Ahrem stayed a short distance away, enough so that he could keep an eye on Saya without seeming conspicuous, himself. Saya pulled her cloak in slightly more as she gazed down the alley and felt a bad feeling crawl up the back of her neck. So, there were markings but why wasn't there the saleswoman? What made them stop at 13 if they had? "I was told by a friend to come over here-" she then stated aloud as she looked about and back at the stand. Did it look like it had been abandoned, or did it seem stocked still? "I guess the beauty cream was just a rumor- I shouldn't have listened to her I guess, she always tells such tall tales."

No answer came, the stall seemingly closed for the night. Looking around, Saya can see a few other closed stalls, However most are open due to due to the influx of visitors for Founder's Day. Saya keeps looking around the stall, since it was secluded and left there with no supervision she proceeded to examine the contents for any clues as to where they should head if possible. Alrighty, Ahrem decides to join Saya in investigating, seeing as nothing suspicious has happened so far. With the aid of Ahrem, the two find a secret compartment within the stall. The door is surprisingly sturdy and won't budge without the lock, A scrap of parchment is sticking out, however, and Saya was able to grip it and pull it out...



The note reads... cup of birch lichen, amenita mascaria cap, chute of seaweed, pinch of salt, 1 boiled toad leg, 4 nightshade pedals. Saya slips the note back in, making a mental note before looking to Ahrem. "It was just ingredients, still no word on where to head next. Ahrem began thinking to himself, for a moment. “... We could ask around for any more leads, if you want. I may know a few merchants.” Alright well, you go ahead and ask them then. I'll follow and watch out I guess-" Ahrem nods, walking around the market and looking to see if any merchant he knows still has their stall up. Ahrem spots a familiar fletcher, sitting by his stall and crafting arrows. Eric, is his name, as Ahrem recalls.

While Ahrem is talking, Saya would be going over the ingredients in her head for possible outcomes. Saya thinks over the list of ingredients. The items are fairly common save for the nightshade. She can't say for certain what it is, possibly an anti aging cream though the combination of ingredients strike her as having more to do with an insomnia remedy. Ahrem, meanwhile, waves at Eric, walking over to his stall.

“Eric! It’s been a while...” Ahrem had began, a friendly smile on his face.Eric gives Ahrem a nod, continuing his work. "Aye Ahrem. A while indeed. How fare's your mother?"

"She's doing fine, right now, all things considered..." Ahrem replied, crossing his arms. "I do need your help, though, on another matter."

"I'll help if I can," Eric shrugged, feathering a long arrow and putting it in a quiver.

"I appreciate it." Ahrem nodded, before clearing his throat. "You've heard of the cases revolving around the missing women, yes? My partner and I have narrowed it down to a herbalist. Haggish-looking, from what we've heard."

"Aye, I've heard." Eric stopped what he was doing and looked up at Ahrem, motioning over to the empty stand Saya was investigating. "What? You think it was Old Bav?"

"Old Bav? Ah, here, this should probably explain it better..." Ahrem mentioned, before grabbing the journal and opening it to the page describing the herbalist. Eric gave a glance at the book before looking back up at Ahrem. "Look, Ahrem. You know how things are here. People mind there own business and they stay out of trouble. Seeing you get mixed up with the Watch and that thief, I be thinking you forgot that. Now I got no desire in getting all mixed up. But a simple fletcher, I am."

"I understand perfectly where you're coming from, Eric. I was raised the same way you were. It's just that... this case, it's had me thinking, hard. Of that young, single mother, who's already struggling to get by, taken in the midde of the night never to be heard from, again. Of her family, of those who have lost a daughter, a mother, and a wife, who have to consider such things they've never fathom they needed to worry about, like if they need to pour their money on a funeral or not, despite not having her body. And of her children, especially, who are too young an innocent to completely understand loss and death, who will possibly starve to death with their last thoughts being that their mother outright abandoned them. Like I said, I understand that you want to stay out of this, but I just need one more lead, just one piece of information to find the perpetrator of these kidnappings and stop them before another woman, another daughter and mother and wife of this city, is taken away from their homes, their families, and perhaps their very lives. I especially can't fathom if my mother was just kidnapped like this... could you?"

Eric sighs in thought... "Alright Ahrem, alright. Old Bav has been here a year, but already she has one of the busiest stalls. Her beautifying creams are something of legend, or so I hear. Gives me the creeps if you ask me. She has a hut over by the farms just outside the west wall. Tell ya what, I'm about done here. I'll take you there before turning in meself."

Saya followed Ahrem on his trip to question a local salesman, and as the conversation occured she was slightly astonished again at Ahrem's persuasive skills. He had successfully gotten the location of the woman's hut, which may not only lead them to their suspect but also to where the women may be hidden. Silently she let the conversation reach it's resolve as she glanced around them. The night was getting even darker as the time had passed, and she noticed other stalls beginning to close around them. It felt almost certain that the possible culprit would be home at this time for when they headed out, but the fact there had been 13 marks on the stand she had searched made it all the more eerie. When they reached this hut... would there be conflict? Is this woman a part of a bigger scheme or is she alone going to pose a threat? The unease of these thoughts made Saya's head hang a little low, hood covering most of her features now after she put it back up. One step closer to their goal, but their goal seems like it may be bittersweet if her worse fears come to pass.

Convincing his brother to let him stay in the guest bedroom was an easy task for Durwith. Lorges liked him well enough, and Durwith's donation of 2 gold pieces to the roistering fund didn't hurt. But with that out of the way, Durwith had to endure the hard part: Resist the urge to strangle his poncy bard brother and his poncy bard friends. It took all of his will power, but Durwith managed to pull through. When what passed for morning in this world came, Durwith was quick to leave Lorges' house, eager to put as much distance between the house and himself as possible. "I can still hear their bloody singin' in me 'ead" Durwith grumbled to himself. As he walked, Durwith learned caught snippets of conversation. "Wagons being stolen, thieves wielding magic in the Square, attacks on guards at the Keep? The crime in this city is getting worse by the day!" 1 voice exclaimed.
"You behave yourself now! Or the ghost of Old Bavaora will steal you away in the night!" Another scolded.
"Accursed goblins" a final voice spat "None of this would have happened if that damn dwarf Grimblade hadn't cut up that goblin wizard".
Durwith felt a twinge of guilt at those words, for he and Grimblade were 1 and the same.

After a while, Durwith stopped to read a news board that had caught his eye. Apparently, some of the goblins had eluded the watch and a bounty was being offered for left ears. Seeing as the goblin outbreak was partially his fault, Durwith decided to help out.

Seeing as the goblins escaped in Slaver's Square, Durwith was fairly certain he'd pick up the trail easily enough there. But as he made his way across Founder's Bridge, Durwith spotted a familiar face. Eston Glower. Durwith had served in the watch with him and hated every moment of it. The man was as crooked as the people he was meant to arrest and was just as vile too. Upon spotting Durwith, Eston grinned smugly and gripped his spear in anticipation. Durwith knew Eston planned on making trouble for him now that professional conduct no longer protected Durwith, but the dwarf would have none of it and pinned Eston with a glare of cold steel. Eston's grin soon faded and the man looked away with a scowl as Durwith passed unopposed.

Crossing the bridge, Durwith came to Slaver's Square, a row of dying trees heralded the square's entrance. The square was well lit. All the streetlamps burned brightly, braziers were full of wood, and guards were patrolling in pairs. It looked as though the square had been cleaned up since the night before. The bodies had been removed and the wounded long since cared for, yet the square was very quiet. It typically was on an Issarday morning, but more so then usual. No doubt the threat of escaped goblins was keeping most people away. But if there was 1 thing that Durwith wasn't, it was most people. Durwith quickly found himself drawn to the empty cages that had housed the wretched creatures, from there he followed tracks that disappeared into an alleyway. His keen eyes were able to pick up on the trail again, noticing some scratch marks on a sewer grate. Seemed the goblins had taken refuge in the sewers below the city. "Sewers" Durwith said "Why oh why did it have to be sewers?". With that said, Durwith began to remove the grate. With some effort, the grate came loose, and pulled up revealing darkness below. With his darkvision, Durwith saw a ladder reaching down to a landing 20 feet below. "This had better be worth it" Durwith said before climbing down the ladder.

Upon reaching the bottom, Durwith nostrils were invaded by the foul smell of refuse. He found himself in a narrow passageway, barely five feet across, a stream of sewage running through. One way, the passage took a bend while the other way stretched on into darkness. After donning his shield and drawing his battleaxe, Durwith proceeded down the straight passage while trying not to step in the stream. Durwith walked on for some time. The air was foul and thick. Rats scurried about and screeched at his intrusion. The odd grate above offered no light on this moonless, starless day. At last Durwith came to a culvert on his left, nearly missing it if it weren't for his darkvision. The culvert was low to the ground, and required Durwith to crawl through it, through the stream of foul muck. The passage, however, still stretched on out of sight. Needless to say, Durwith continued onwards. Durwith came to the end of the passageway after several minutes. To his left, the passage stretched on into darkness, to his right, it took a bend after thirty feet or so, with rats scurrying about in the darkness. Heading left, clear of rats, Durwith pressed on. Before long, the passage widened and Durwith entered a large corridor, with tunnels honeycombing throughout. Sickening waterfalls emptied into deep pools, and streams rushed into grates leading to deeper depths of the sewer. The corridor stretched on into darkness. Durwith proceeded across the walkway, holding his shield up to each waterfall as he passed them. Pelts of rancid water hit Durwith's shield as he passed. As the corridor began to wind to his left, Durwith sensed a decline as the passage took him down deeper into the sewers. Trekking on, the winding chamber split into many different passages, and became disorienting. It soon became difficult to tell which was the main passage as it began to narrow once again. However, Durwith was able to keep his bearings, and also catch sight of an iron cuff discarded on the ground. Perhaps a sign of goblins ahead. Readying himself for a fight, Durwith pressed on.

He eventually came to a chamber thirty feet across, and fifty feet deep. There was a dilapidated door on the far side, barely standing on its hinges. The stone walls were crumbling, and pipes above emptied streams of water into pits on either side of the chamber. Durwith scanned the room. He seemed to be alone. However, he caught sight of some debris on the floor in front of the door. Upon closer inspection, he saw it was a crude trap, a loose plank to conceal a pit. As he saw this, the sound of foot falls could be heard behind him, approaching from the entrance of the chamber. Durwith faced the entrance, ready for battle. A pair of goblins entered the room. "Gromush a' val keetah..." 1 of the goblins said before trailing off as he caught sight of the dwarf. "Risgrooo-AH!" he shouted with an elongated claw pointed at Durwith. Pulling out a knife tucked into a rope that served as a belt, the goblin sneered, barking as it charged the intruder, knife in hand. The goblin slashed at Durwith, but the dwarf was ready for the strike and blocked it before cutting the goblins head off.

The goblin archer hooted at the death of its companion. "Va'gul gramuush!!!" the creature cried out before it retreated for the entrance, disappearing in the dark passageway. With the archer on the run, Durwith took a moment to cut off the goblin fighter's left ear and stow in away in an empty backpack compartment. Beyond the dilapidated doorway, Durwith could suddenly hear faint shouting, and the trample of boots. Stepping over the pit, Durwith kicked down the door and charged through to meet whoever was on the other side. On the other side was a chamber, two pillars on either side, and waterfalls emptying into pools along the far wall. Five goblins awaited him, clearly expecting him from the calls of their scouts. Though they were clad in rough spun tunics and breeches, a single goblin who was presumably their leader, held a short sword and wore leather armor. "Gro'shah ga la! Gramuush!" the leader barked as he pointed at Durwith.

Heeding the order of his master, the 1st of the goblin fighters charged at Durwith, his fangs bared as he slashed at the dwarf with his knife. His blow was hard and swift, but crashed harmlessly against Durwith's shield. The second fighter was quick to follow, coming at Durwith from his flank, a cudgel in hand. He jumped through the air, aiming to get atop Durwith's shoulders and strike at his head, but his attempt was blocked and he fell backward, landing nimbly on his feet with a bark. The goblin boss' eyes darken as he pulled out a short bow slung across his back, taking aim at the intruder. However, the arrow missed Durwith by an inch and clattered against the wall behind him. The goblin archers followed the lead of their master, 1 of the archers was suddenly overcome with nerves and dropped his bow as he attempted to loose his arrow. The other fired a sure shot that landed in Durwith's shoulder, finding a weak spot in his armor. Durwith responded by killing the 2 goblins fighting him in melee combat, getting hit by arrows twice in the process. Durwith then charged the goblin boss with a fearsome battle cry.

The goblin boss howled as he shouldered his bow and drew his dagger, before nimbly ducking away from Durwith. The other two goblins, aghast at how quick the dwarf had chopped through their ranks, pull out knives for a close quarter fight. 1 archer moved back toward his boss, while the other one circled Durwith with a venomous hiss, getting closer to his companions. "Oh no you don't!" Durwith barked as he charged the goblin archer closest to him and cut the creature in 2. Durwith then lunged at the other goblin archer and decapitated him as well. The goblins shrieked as they were cut down and the goblin boss continued his flight, rounding the pillar and disappearing. Durwith made his way around the pillar, kicking aside some loose stones. To his dismay, the goblin seemed to be nowhere in sight. With the the goblin boss nowhere to be seen, Durwith checked for clues as to where he might be. Eyeing the loose stones, Durwith began to wonder about their source, his gaze going upward along the pillar. Clinging to the pillar some twenty feet high, was the goblin boss. Their eyes met, and seeing he was caught, the goblin sprung from the pillar, sword in hand.

The goblin landed on Durwith's shoulders, his legs wrapped tight around Durwith's neck as his sword slashed down, stabbing down into the dwarf's chest. Durwith cried out in pain as the sword punctured his chest. Fortunately, the blade hit nothing vital and refused to leave Durwith long enough to give the dwarf the opening he needed to end the fight. Swinging his axe upwards, Durwith caught the goblin boss full in the face, splitting his skull in 2. With all the goblins dead, Durwith began collecting their left ears for bounties. Once done, Durwith left the sewers the same way he came in and went to turn in the ears.

Hostile eyes stared at Eudaxia as the cell door slammed shut behind her. The steps of Tattoo and Lazy eye faded into the distance as the guards walked away, leaving the girl squeezed in with a dozen other inmates of all races. She could see many of them seemed to have endured similar treatment to her, at Wilo's hands. They were a ragged bunch, all crammed shoulder to shoulder in a cell that was far too small. She could spy a small gap towards the back, where room had been left for a burly looking dwarf with what looked like war paint on his face, who occupied the only bench space in the cell, lording over the other prisoners.
The sight of the bench made Eudaxia ache all over, and she took a moment to rest against the bars of the cell, catching her breath. During her moment of respite, she spied a group of tieflings huddled in one of the back corners of the cell. One of them, a male whose horns had been cut to stubs, was watching her. He gave her a slight nod as she caught his gaze, suggesting an invitation to join the group.
She held his gaze wearily. It wasn't uncommon for tieflings to band together on the streets, keeping to their own. She had been like that too when she was young. A tiny waif, freshly abandoned by her parents, she'd clung to the only kind who didn't curse her and kick her away. Though time and time again, the groups had always stabbed her in the back eventually, using her as bait or abandoning her to angry passers-by.
Despite her insistence that tieflings could be trusted in the torture room, she'd learned that she couldn't trust anyone, and had avoided the groups since, working alone.

Still, strength in numbers was not something to be turned down in a situation like this, and she gingerly began to edge her way towards the tiefling.
"Watch it!" growled a naked faced Dwarf as Eudaxia squeezed by.
"Watch where yer goin!" Squeaked a halfling who nearly caught a knee from Eudaxia.
"Cursed Tieflings," breathed a man as Eudaxia pushed past.
"it ain't my fault we're packed in here like rats!" she exclaimed as she finally made it through the crowd, glaring at anyone too hostile.
The tiefling with cut horns greeted Eudaxia. "Ahmens Ra," he said in traditional infernal greeting.
"yo" she replied. Partly to throw him off balance, and partly because of her discomfort with the language. "You're very polite for being in a jail cell."
"We may be locked in cages, but we are not animals," he replied in the common tongue.
"I guess not. Though they do like treating us like we are. Has Wilo worked on you too?" she said, finally switching to infernal for privacy, and nodding angrily to the stubs on his head. "The horns, was that him?"
The tiefling had a dour look on his face. "Some of us, yes, but alas I seem to be beneath his notice." he replied in the infernal tongue. He gestured to his horns. "This was a gift from my former master, one of many gifts I endured before killing him. I am Zercis, by the way."
"Eudaxia. The pleasure is mine." she replied, skipping over his confession of murder. "Do you know what we're waiting for, in here? do they take people away at all?"
"They come every so often, taking a few out, bringing new ones in... Most will go on before the magistrate, whereas I, and some other unfortunate souls, will be going straight to the chopping block.Tu-ra chok cro'sa. I go to the Gods."
She almost snorted in derision, but restrained herself. "You think the gods care? After everything that's happened to you?"
"I will see soon enough."
His peace irritated her. If he had killed his master, then why not fight his current oppression? "And you have accepted your fate?" she egged on. "You don't want to fight back?"
Zercis sighed. "I have fought all my life. All of Amnon was my battleground. I battled the Stoneguard of Gemstone and did not cave. I raided and slaughtered the Khagoni Legions that descended upon my home and my sword could not be sated. I rose up against my masters and broke the chains they thought would bind me. Now.... Now I am tired."
She fell silent, taken aback. She had underestimated him. He was far stronger than she was. Did this mean she too would give up eventually? She shook the thought from her mind. If he had given up then he was weak. "this sounds like an unworthy end for one such as you. I would make some noise on my way out in your place." she said eagerly. This man seemed capable of leading a prison break. It would be the perfect revenge on Wilo and the guards. Plus they might just survive. "And what of the others? They too will perish if you do nothing."
"Our fates are our own. I intend to march bravely toward death. My final act in this doomed world."
She fell back, disappointed. "well... good luck." she said awkwardly. She decided to change the subject. "what's with the dwarf lording over everyone?"
"An ill tempered brute," Zercis said. "Claims to be one of the Valhammer Guards of Razor. Best let him lord over his piece of wood."
"probably wise." she said falling into silence.

After some time, the distinct sound of an unlocking door was heard. Wilo and two guards then appeared before the cell, as well as another; an old man with a snow-white beard, wide brimmed hat, and a blue cloak, trimmed with gold. "Eudaxia," called Wilo. "Step forward."
Welp. Time to go. She thought, giving the tiefling a last nod and making her way carefully to the front.
The dark eyed dwarf seethed from his perch. "Oi! Dustran!" He called to the old man. "Why have you not come to release me? Is this how you treat one of the Valhammer?!"
"Be still your tongue!" Snapped the old man named Dustran. "King Wroughtiron has forsaken you. You will face justice."
"Is that what you think?" Howled the dwarf. "We shall see!"
Wilo eyed Eudaxia as she emerged at the front of the cell, turning to Dustran. "This is Eudaxia, your Grace." Dustran stepped forward, pale blue eyes regarding her thoughtfully.
Your grace? Could this man be the magistrate? He didn't look like one, but this was no jailer. "Hello sir" she said, presenting herself and subtly displaying the signs of her torture. Looking down and trying to appear meek before the richly clothed man.
Dustran turned to Wilo. "Tell me what you uncovered."
"I have doubts of her guilt, and the report of her wielding of magic, your Grace." he said.
"And it took torturing this poor girl to foster said doubts?" His eyes looked as though they could bore into glass.
"I assure you my methods are sound!" Wilo balked in suprise.
"Your methods are obsolete in today's Haven. Release her." the man stated.
Relief washed over Eudaxia. I'm getting out. "Thank you... your grace..." she managed, even attempting a curtsy.
One of the guards unlocks the cell, opening the door just enough to pull Eudaxia free, and slamming it shut behind her once more. "But she has yet to see the magistrate!" Wilo protested.
"I will take full responsibility," Dustran said. "You would do well to consider your loyalties, Wilo,"
"I am loyal to Haven, your Grace!"
"Ah yes, but the old or the new?" Dustran then turned to the stunned Eudaxia. "Follow me, if you'll please."

What is going on? she wondered. If he wasn't the magistrate, who was this noble with the power to release her? He led Eudaxia out of the corridor, through the initial chamber that houses the stocks. Eudaxia saw fresh faces locked in the stockade, including a bloodied dwarf, unconscious and hanging limply from the binds. Did I look like that? she thought.
she tried to keep up, being careful of her leg, feeling increasingly apprehensive. "Where are you taking me, your grace?" she asked timidly.
"To my solar. A friend of yours awaits you."
Slight understanding dawned on the urchin. She had no friends. He could only mean one person. She had hoped that Shaemus might speak up for her at her trial, but if he had been able to outright secure her release, the priest had more credit than she had given him. Dustran lead the way through what looked like a receiving office. Judging by its cleanliness, she guessed it belonged to Wilo. The old man went behind the desk and opened a cabinet. Within were her possessions. "Help yourself to your items," he said, stepping aside.
She stepped forward, touching her things, relieved to see her worldly possessions intact. She picked up her gear and strapped on her armour, feeling safer in the leather. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised the money is gone." she sighed. She was a penniless pauper once more.
"I would guess your purse has been forwarded to the magistrate." suggested the man, who she now guessed must be some high ranking priest. "Likely a fine is a forgone conclusion in his mind."
"getting out of here is the important thing." she said, though she was still bitter. Her money had been taken even before her case was heard. "I'm ready."
Dustran's eyes looked Eudaxia up and down before he reached into his robe, pulling out a vial. "Here. Take this. It's a potion of healing and we have some stairs to climb. Can't have you passing out on me." A shadow of a smile appears behind his snowy beard.
She took the vial and eyed it with slight distrust as she unstopered it, her paranoia not trusting the mysterious liquid. He had been stern with Wilo, but this Dustran seemed friendly enough. In the end she decided she didn't have much of a choice, and quaffed the potion. Invigoration coursed through her, washing away her pains and bruises. She gasped as she felt her leg mend, the throbbing subsiding to nothing. "Alright lets go." she said, feeling reborn. "A few stairs are nothing after the morning I've had."
Dustran then lead her up a spiralling staircase. It seemed to wind up forever. Both of them breathless, they came to a door at last. He pushed it open revealing a courtyard. A carriage awaited them, drawn by two magnificent white horses. Four horseman waited by the carriage as well, sitting atop chestnut steeds. They seemed different from typical watchmen, donned in shining armor and red robes fastened about their shoulders. Knights? she wondered.

"Your carriage awaits, your Grace." One said as they approached.
"My thanks, Ser Arthur. We make for the Castle of Lords." He then turned to Eudaxia. "We may part here if that is your wish, Eudaxia. However I would very much like an audience with you. Shaemus awaits us at the castle and I believe you would be interested in what I have to say."
An... audience with me? she thought, stunned. Just who was this man? The priesthood had been a joke until a few years back, this could not all be the influence of the church. She cringed before the shiny knights and opulent carriage, overwhelmed. Her instinct was to flee, and he was giving her a way out. She knew she should take it. But she had been rescued, and she hated being in debt. This was the third time she'd been invited to see Shaemus, and she still needed answers about her magic. Looking at the carriage, she realised this was an opportunity she might never have again. "Alright" she said hesitantly, feeling like she was climbing into another cage. "I'll come."
Dustran opened the door for Eudaxia, climbing in after her. "Take some rest, my dear. You must be tired. We will be at the castle before you know it."
She didn't want to let her guard down in this strange environment, but her experiences weighed on her heavily. A healing potion was no substitute for food and sleep. With its soft seating, the carriage was more comfortable than anything she'd ever been in. Reluctantly she let her eyes droop as she descended into slumber.

---

Late in the afternoon on the 29th of the 6th Moon, a thing happened for the first time since the sun burned in the sky. The King Under The Mountain ventured forth from his domain, and journeyed to Haven. The dwarf folk of Razor and Haven both share kinship, for in the days of old a strong alliance existed between the two realms, and in the days of Haven's founding, dwarven masons and stonecutters aided in building the walls and battlements. Their labours complete, many of these dwarves settled in Haven, giving rise to a vibrant and prosperous dwarven community within the city.

Today the king travels to Haven to honour the kinship between the mountain dwarves and the sky-touched, as the Haven dwarves are referred to in Razor. Ahead of his royal procession, messengers flock through the city, passing out parchments to every dwarf they can find.

Outside the walls, the deep note of dwarven horns are heard, heralding the coming of the king.

On a busy street of Haven, the noon rush navigated in droves by the cistern. On the edge, a heavy iron grate skidded across the cobblestone and a dwarf emerged reeking of filth. The night was pitch black, clouds blotted out the stars and it was cool and damp. Rain was in the air. Founders Bridge was just to the north. Heads turned toward as Durwith climbed up onto the street. An officer of the watch was among them, but merely offered a knowing nod before continuing down the street to the south. Seeing as Founders bridge was the closest place to turn in the ears he'd collected, Durwith made his way north. Founder's Bridge loomed ahead. Foot traffic and carts moved along the street to an incline leading up to the bridge. A beggar stepped out of an alley as Durwith drew near, holding his hat out to the dwarf. "Charity if you please" the beggar said "For a veteran of the Khagoni war".
Durwith reached into his coin pouch and pulled out 3 gold pieces, 3 silver pieces, and 5 copper pieces. Durwith dropped the coin into the hat and gave the beggar a respectful nod.
"Gods bless you, sir" The beggar said with a nod as Durwith continued on his way.

Upon reaching Founder's Bridge, Durwith turned towards the western keep, coming upon the gate. As he approached the gatehouse, Durwith overheard 2 officers of the watch talking. "Damn near killed him, he did!" 1 of them said.
"You mean to tell me he slipped by two patrols and drove the wagon right to the keep?" the other asked with disbelief.
"That's right" the 1st confirmed "And poor Barnon bit off his own tongue fighting the brigand!".
Leaving the officers to their idle chatter, Durwith continued on his way.

At the gatehouse Durwith caught sight of a familiar face. His former sergeant, another dwarf named Damis Jadeborn. He wore an iron helm and chain shirt, an axe across his back. The unruly eyebrows of the aged dwarf furrowed as Durwith approached. "What are you doing here, Bronzebeard?" Damis asked warily.
"I'm 'ere to turn in some goblin ears fer that bounty that's been offered up fer 'em" Durwith said as he pulled out the 6 goblin ears he had collected "I got 6 o' them".
Damis looked down at the ears in an uninterested manner before raising his gaze back to Durwith. "I hear we have a dwarf named Grimblade to thank for that" Damis said.
Durwith cringed slightly at the mention of his stage name. The fact that he had a hand in unleashing the goblins on the city weighed on him. "I've heard that too" Durwith said "Out o' curiosity, do you know if he's wanted for questionin' or not?".
Damis shook his head. "Save it, Bronzebeard! I know it was you" Damis said "Didn't I tell you that hot head of yours was going to land you in trouble!".
"Ye always have, sergeant" Durwith replied.
Damis sighed, stepping into the gatehouse and motioning Durwith to follow him. "Look, the way I see it those goblins were just itching to hatch an escape" he said as moved behind a desk, pulling out a coin purse and dropping it down on the surface "At least you killed a score of 'em, and took care of that spell caster and thankfully it didn't happen on Founder's Day".
"An' 'opefully it clears up before then too" Durwith said as he took the coin purse and left the ears in its place.
"I figure after this, only a few are left" Damis said as he sat down, kicking his boots up onto the desk "I figured you'd be drowning in a pool of ale by now, yet here you are, hunting down goblins. When you ain't releasing them, that is! You looking to get back in the Watch, hm?".
"I didn't 'ave the coin to drown meself in ale" Durwith said "An' even if I did, the only decent place in the city won't be lettin' me in fer a while now. And no, I ain't doin' this to beg fer me job back. I'm doin' this because I 'ad an 'and in makin' this mess, an' it's only fair I 'elp put it right in any way I can".
Damis nodded slowly, before shaking his head, swinging his feet down and pulling out a ledger, jotting down a few notes. "You're a good dwarf, Bronzebeard, even if you're stubborn as a mule and just as tempered!" Damis replied "I'll be sure to tell the Lord-Commander you set things right." He closed the ledger, putting it back into the desk, his boots clanging loudly as he rests them back up on the desktop. "So what's next fer ya?" Damis asked "If Bronzebeard ain't a watchman, what is he?".
"Well once I'm away from 'ere, I plan on washin' this stench off o' me" Durwith replied as he opened the coin purse to make sure he'd been paid enough "After that, I'm not sure. I guess I'll just see what fate brings and go from there".
"May the fates treat you kindly" Jadeborn grunted "Oh! Have you heard that King Wrothiron hisself will be arriving today for Founder's Day. Every dwarf worth his beard will be in attendance at the main gates for his blessing".
Durwith looked up at Damis with wide eyes when he revealed the shocking news. "The king? Here in Haven?" Durwith said "What time will he be at the gates?".
The sergeant shrugged. "Can't say for certain" Damis said "But his caravan left Razor three days ago. So long as they don't dolly-gaggle, should be here anytime".
"I see" Durwith said "Let's 'ope the king's arrival will be loud enough to let us know when it's time to make fer the gates then". With that said, Durwith finished checking to see if he'd been paid correctly before emptying the purse he'd been given into his coin pouch. "Well it was nice seein' ye again, sergeant" Durwith said as he placed the now empty purse back on the desk "Give the lads my regards...The lads I could stand bein' around, that is".
"Farewell, Bronzebeard" Damis said as Durwith made for the exit.

Some time later, Durwith was walking to the Uphill Bathhouse to wash the stench from his body before the king arrived. Just as he reached his destination, Durwith heard a faint cry for help coming from the nearby alley way. Durwith moved into the alley way towards the cry, readying his weapons as he did so. Durwith couldn't quite recall much of what happened next but when he came to, Durwith had a lot less stuff with him and was bound by his own manacles. After this incident, Durwith Bronzebeard sank into obscurity. Never to be heard from again.

"So where did you get that wagon from?" Gregorii heard for the third time today, he groaned in anger, he should've ditched that damned wagon. Gregorii was standing on the bridge of Founder's Bridge Keep, he had intended to join the watch, hoping to gain a position as a guard in the masquerade ball, a party he was going to crash. He looked up at the guard, using the mop to hold himself up, he felt old and withered once again, like a corpse that was still moving. "I'm the bloody Merchant" he grunted, as if the guard should've known that, but when he said that, the guard's face didn't move a muscle, Gregorii muttered a curse under his breath as the guard yelled, words he wished he'd never hear.

"save it for the magistrate!" the guard yelled, suddenly flipping the desk at him, sending the desk flying towards him, Gregorii snapped into action, as if someone flicked a switch in his brain, he grabbed the desk mid-flight and threw it back with a roar, his youth flew back into him, and a desk flew back into the guard, the guard let out a cry of pain as the desk squished him, Blood leaked out from under the desk, and the guard went motionless, covered in a pile of blood, wood and paper.

Two guards were walking across the bridge, not noticing the mess in front of them, one was big and gruff, while the other was small and wimpy, like a child pretending to be a guard, "So anyways Barnon, he threw a axe at this tiefling bi-holy mother of Nerull!" yelled the Big one, surprise washed over him as he pointed to Gregorii, the two breaking into a sprint, Gregorii yelled back, running at them swinging a mop like a demon, the little Guard who's name was Barnon ran up first, eager to dish out justice, it was Barnon's first day at work. Gregorii ran at him like a bat out of hell, FOR JUSTIC- Barnon yelled his last words, but was cut off as Gregorii rammed the mop down his throat, the dwarf kneed the guard in the jaw, forcing Barnon to bite down on the mop, cracking it and ten of his teeth, his mouth was filled with blood, as he fell backwards, Gregorii kicked small guard, sending him flying to the ground, who cringed in pain, now lacking a tongue and teeth, he'd never speak again.

Gregorii swung the mop at the tall guard, yelling in anger, he felt a jab in his back, he yelled in pain, two more jabs flew into his back, he swung backwards, a arrow nicked his ear, narrowly missing his head, there was a guard firing arrows at him, Gregorii was instantly kicked out of his frenzy, reality washed into him, like cold water waking up a sleeping drunk. Gregorii pushed the guard away, jumping on the wagon and snapping at the reins, yelling at the horses to move, but the two horses stood still, completely oblivious to what was going on, Gregorii frowned, before he could decide he hated horses, a mace swung into his face, sending him spiraling into a conveniently located pile of dung, Unconscious.

---Hours pass---

Gregorii opened his eyes, seeing doubles of everything around him, he couldn't move, constrained by a wooden stockade, he grumbled as he looked across what was a cell, filled with a myriad of different races, he felt rage fill him, he couldn't stay here!, he could be in this cell for months, and the festival was tomorrow, his redemption was tomorrow, he had to find that girl, dozens has suffered in his crusade for freedom, he couldn't let their sacrifices go in vain, if he failed, than he would be nothing more than a scumbag.

He yelled loudly, he was angrier than he thought he was, he ripped out of the stockade, sending wood flying in a explosion of youth and rage, the inmates in the cell's all looked towards him, half-amazed and half-desperate for freedom, each one clamoring for Gregorii to free them, Gregorii tried to rip them out of the stockade's as well, but he found that the anger had left as quick as it came, with a shrug, he went to the entrance of the cell, which was a wooden door, with a fierce kick he sent the door flying off it's hinges, but groaned in anger as it was revealed that, behind the entrance door, was another door, a impenetrable gate of steel, he felt despair eat away at the anger he had, turning him back into a old fart.

He limped his way further into the dungeon, past even more cell's, with inmates banging and yelling for freedom, Gregorii was a key dangled in their faces, so close, but so far away. A Fierce dwarf who's face was covered in tattoo's pushed his way to the front of the cell, "You!, Son of Moradin!, Come hither, quick!" the dwarf yelled, "Son of who?.." Gregorii muttered with surprise in his voice, as the dwarf grabbed him and dragged him to the front of the cell, "I am of the Order of Valhammer, sworn axe to King Wrothiron himself! And you are but a trapped rat! Any hope you have in escape, lies with me!" the Dwarf shook him, Gregorii groaned and pushed off the dwarf, if anyone was a trapped rat, it certainly wasn't Gregorii, he found himself annoyed by this dwarf, the brief thought of ditching him appeared in his head, but Gregorii only had two fists, if he wanted to get out of this mess, he was going to need more fists, Gregorii attempts to bend the bar's, sweating in exhaustion, Through there!" Exclaimed the dark eyed dwarf. "Keep your wits about you, dwarf! Two guards and the dungeon master are beyond, torturing some poor soul! No doubt they will hold the keys to our freedom! Now go!" He pushed Gregorii backward, his strength nearly causing him to tumble down. "GO!" he yelled as Gregorii stumbled back, Gregorii nodded, he disliked this dwarf, but the dwarf helped him nevertheless, "I'll be back" he promised, Gregorii always paid his debts.

He walked further down the hallway, opening the door to a small room, inside he saw a old man standing with his back to him, cutting deeply into a man tied to a torture rack, Gregorii's face twisted with disgust, he knew that the law was corrupt here, but he didn't think they'd be this bad, he felt a sense of disappointment, the watch was meant to protect us, yet here they were, committing sadistic acts of torture, "The shadow comes for us all!" the man groaned in pain, Gregorii felt bad for the cultist as he plucked a set of keys from the old man, as silent as a mouse, "Where is the remnants of the cult located!" the old man yelled, absorbed with his interrogation, Gregorii took one look back as he left the room, filled with shame in what he saw, no one deserved torture, not even cultists.

He left the door, and looked to his left, he felt surprise run through him, seeing two guards suddenly come into view, "I tell you he came and plucked her right out of the cell- OI YOU!, HALT!" one of the guards pointed at him and yelled, Gregorii raised his fists, but groaned quickly in pain, he barely noticed the wounds that dug into him, bleeding from multiple wounds, he could not fight, he could only run. so he ran, until the guards came out of view, when he found a alcove, small and hard, but fit for a dwarf like himself, he snuggled in it, watching the guards quickly run past, he sighed in relief, if he was caught, he'd surely be dead. "Check the Alcoves!" a guard suddenly yelled, looking through all the alcoves. he scrambled to find a rock, every second he scrambled, the guards came closer and closer, he silently cursed, did he come this far, only to get thrown in jail again?.

But then he felt something in his hand, a rock!, he smiled as he threw it down the hallway, making a loud crack as it hit the ground, as if someone was running down the hallway, the guards turned and leaped towards it, like a pack of hungry dogs, Gregorii smiled and slipped out of the alcove, heading back to the dungeons.

Back in the chamber, the fierce dwarf clung to the bars, "Truly the gods are with you, but we must make haste! Onward! Let us leave this place!" he yelled as Gregorii unlocked the cages, every last one of them, after a couple minutes, the entire prison was freed, dozens upon dozens of now free Prisoners rushed to the gate, Gregorii shoved the key into the entrance gate, letting the prisoner's free, he couldn't help but smile, Gregorii fought for freedom, and now he had given it away like candy, the prisoner's swarmed a cabinet filled with their stuff, Gregorii pulled out his trusty mop, and whatever possessions he had left, unfortunately the guards threw away the bag of rats which Gregorii didn't blame them for doing, but his gold was gone also, he would scowl, but his victory had put a smile on his face, climbed to the top of the cabinet, standing above the prisoners.

"Aye lads!, there's a festival tomorrow, in a castle filled with gold and glory!, who wants to raid it with me?!" he yelled in a booming voice, though he had a ulterior motive, he decided the prisoner's would be easier persuaded with the promise of riches, the prisoner's roared in agreement, a halfling climbed on top of a desk, "We'll fill our pockets!" he yelled, a scarred elf added his voice to the chorus "You have my sword!" a tiefling with cut horns nodded, saying "and my bow" and finally, the fierce eyed dwarf raised a greataxe in the air, yelling "And my axe!"

The group yelled for gold and glory, the seeds of a new army had been sown today, Gregorii smiled, he swore he could see the sun rise from the horizon, the sun of a new nation.

Eric stretches as he stands up, motioning for Ahrem to follow, slinging a quiver of arrows and a bow across his back. He walks westward leading them through the slums of the city. Farmhands and laborers tend to call the slums home. Dilapidated, abandoned, and boarded up homes are a common sight, relics of a time when the city flourished, back when the sun burned bright in the sky. Most houses were dark, though some lights could be seen in others. Eric trudged along in silence. After some time passes, the three reach a high palisade wall. A gate, void of the extravagance and security of the main gate marks the end of the slums and the farm lands that stretch on atop the riverside plateau that elevate the city. A guardsmen eyes them as they pass through the gate, but lets them pass without issue.

Ahrem kept his hand hovering over his sword as they walked through the slums, eyeing for any potential muggers. Once they made it past the slums, however, Ahrem's guard lowered only just a bit. Nature seemed somewhat more reassuring than the rotted wooden houses that had dotted their path.

Saya felt the less cared for road under her boots and noticed the stench that came with being in the slums. Despite these qualities though, she didn't feel disgusted as she knew many of the people here were trying their best to simply stay in their homes. The abandoned storefronts and homes was simply a reminder of her true task that this mission was just helping her set up for. Passing by the stare of the guard and moving into the darkened wilderness Saya let a small breath escape her mouth as she realized she had been holding it for a while. Without the moon, the woods would be almost unaturally dark, and while she could see she didn't know if Ahrem would like a torch or not.

The farmlands beyond the city were veiled in shadow. Foul and beasts of burden could be heard in the darkness as they walked the road southward. The road was deserted, aside from them. After a few moments, the trample of horses was heard behind them. Two horses labored breathlessly as the riders pulled their reins, bringing them to a stop, torches in hand. "Presenting the good master, Barot of..."
"Enough with the introductions!" Snapped Barot "Ahrem and Saya, I am glad I've caught you. Renold told me of a promising lead, and I see it has led you out here. Tell me do you know? Do you know the whereabouts of my beloved daughter?"

Ahrem cleared his throat. "Ah, yes, we might, Lord Fairview. My friend, Eric, is leading us to where we presume your daughter is being held, or at the very least, the perpetrator of the kidnapping."

Saya turned to Ahrem just slightly as he spoke before looking back at Barot. As a man desperate for his daughter, it was clear he was acting in haste and she didn't know if she could trust his behavior moving forward. While she knew extra hands may help, she made her choice as she spoke. "Please, my lord, we don't know anything for sure as of yet. It's not safe out here, and it would be best if you stayed at your manor. We are closer to finding Elonna, but your excitement and love for your daughter could make it harder to bring her back."

Barot raised a halting hand. "For too long I have sat in that manor. Now, with the promise of finding her you expect me to go back? Nay, Let us go now and waste no more time! To Elonna! Nothing will hold me back!"

Saya scratched her cheek in another moment of thought. His determination was indeed quite the hard thing to attempt to calm down, and it seemed mear words wern't about to keep him still at this rate. With a slightly sigh she looked up from her momentairy downcast to look into the eyes of Barton with a bit more passion than she had the moment before. "Alright, please feel free to follow... however, don't do anything rash. We don't want anyone getting harmed that we don't have to and being cautious could be the key to bringing your daughter home alive." she spoke towards the Lord before bowing slightly to try and show that she meant no disrespect. "Let's keep moving onward." she added on before stealing one more glance at the artistic sun the breastplate held. Inspiring as it was, she hoped that by the end it would still be as pristine. Ahrem bowed to the Lord Barot, as well. "Indeed, my Lord. We'll try to approach things with subtlety, at first. If we alert the suspects, they may make for a quick escape." Ahrem noted, before turning to Eric. "Alright, friend. Lead the way." "I defer to your judgement," said Barot cooly, clenching his jaw and tightening his grip on his reins. He set his horse to a slow trot behind them. After a while, passing the dark fields, barns and the odd hut of sleeping farmers, they came to a winding path that broke off the main road. Darkness lay beyond with a jungle of brambles that twisted endlessly into the night, threatening to overtake the path. "This is it," said Eric. "I best be on my way. I do not usually fear this road, but this night is like no other."

Saya nodded once to Eric before speaking up. "Thank you." After her gratitude was shown she started leading the way due to her vision at night being superior to the humans behind her. letting them make their own torches be of use if they desire at this point. Every so often a bramble on the side caught her cloak or she had to step over a root that had began to cross the trail. It was certainly strange that a woman would be living so far out here.... even with devious intentions. At one point she stopped at the sound of movement in the brush nearby, but she was able to catch a glance of a rabbit that seems to have been scared by their arrival. For certain no one in their right mind would normally put themselves out here this far into the night. "I'll see you when we return, Eric. Thanks for your help." Ahrem noted, before following Saya as she lead the way, sticking with the horses and their torchlight. Since his eyes aren't attuned to the dark, Ahrem kept his ears open for any signs of trouble as they made their approach, avoiding the brambles the best he could. While he would use his sword to cut through these treacherous vines, he did not want to further scuff his father's sword on some plants. He will muscle through. "'tis just like the horrid vines that overcame the manor grounds, good master." Renold remarked, struggling to control his horse, seemingly just stricken with fright and refusing to trod onward. "My thoughts exactly, Renold," Barot said, his own horse refusing to go further. Barot dismounted, passing the reins to his valet. "See the horses back to the stables, and inform the Watch we encroach upon the culprit! We tread on. Now go!"
Renold bowed his head atop his horse, turning it around. "Milord."

As the party walks the path, a hut comes into view, made of mud and straw, a faint light can be seen burning within. Taking another step forward, Saya's ankle is suddenly seized, looking down, the bramble had lashed out against her, wrapped tight around her and was pulling her into the thicket. Taking out her dagger, Saya reacted quickly and looked to slice it through. "The thicket is moving!" she called out in a whisper as her attempt to do so before it could drag or trip her occured. Attacking before the vine could drag her into the thicket, Saya sliced at the vine, but not before it slashed at her heels, wounding her. From behind, the group heard Barot shout. Looking toward him they could see a vine snaked around his leg and chest, leaving the nobleman clawing feebly at the ground as he is dragged off into the thicket with a rush of speed. Ahrem rushed towards the Lord, cutting at the thickets he was dragged into with all his strength, cutting a path to the faint whimpers of the noble. Ahrem saw a tree, dark and twisted, its roots gnarled together in great labyrinth with brambles snaking around it. He sees the arm of Barot just peeking out from the roots.

All is quiet on the path, Barton's torch lay burning on the ground where he was seized.

The vines slithered across the ground, pulling into the tree, and winding their way down beneath the roots. Barot screams below. Ahrem picked up the torch in order to give himself light, watching as the roots seemed to tremble and shake as he approached. Striking at the roots of the tree, Ahrem slammed the burning torch down on the gnarled roots, sending a cascade of sparks down on the wood. The surrounding vines lash up at the air in a mighty whoosh as flames kindle on the dry bark. The fire crackles as the tree quivers and shakes. Meanwhile, Saya, having freed herself, immediately turned to the lord who had been torn from his mount and pulled into the thicket. With her dagger in hand she followed her allies attempt to free the man from the clutches of the vine, desperately striking and cutting with her dagger at whatever pinned Barot's body down. Making sure to not cut into him though. Slashing at the vines that enrobe the tree's roots, they are cut away and slashed, bits of bark and splinters tossed up in the air as the dagger cuts at blinding speed. The brambles fall into a heap and the tree seems to give a shudder. With a groan, Barot pulls himself out of the gnarled roots, bruised and bloody. "By the Gods!" Exclaimed Barot. "What devilry is this?!" Saya would help Barot stand up while taking a look over his injuries. "It seems like they didn't want guests dropping by-" she spoke before looking to the lit hut. "Be mindful for other traps... but we need to keep moving." Looking over his wounds, Saya can see that they are mostly superficial - however there seems to be some resin on some of the wounds that suggest a poison may be at work. Saya is able to wipe the resin away, hopefully before it could fester in the wound, negating most of the harmful effects of the poison. "Thank you my, dear," Barot say, wiping the blood of his face. "Onward to the hut then?" Saya nodded before glancing to Ahrem and speaking up once more. "Together then." After which turning and keeping an eye out as they moved towards the abode before them. Barot, shaken from the encounter, let Saya and Ahrem take the lead.

The party approaches the mud hut. It is a unremarkable building, small, maybe fifteen feet square. The walls are made of mud and straw with a thatched roof. The door is cut from dead wood. As Saya approaches, she spots an inexplicable hinge along the top of the doorway, covered up in a splatter of mud, Upon closer inspecting, she can see it tied to the door with a light string, designed to swing downward when the door is opened. Once spotted, Saya is easily able to unfasten the string, and disarm the trap. Inside the hut, there is a single room. A straw bed is on the far side, a chest at its foot, with a roughspun rug alongside it. In the center a fire burns faintly, soon to die out, the smoke swirling up to a hole in the roof. A wooden pantry stands to the right, preceded by a table where various ingredients are strewn about
Over top the door, is a board fixed with sharp barbs, poised to swing down once one opens the door.

Saya was fairly annoyed at the prospect that whoever was here set up two traps on one door, which mad eher go through the process of reaching up to gingerly disable the swining board trap. Once done, she would step inside looking for anyone that may be there or any sign of what may be occuring. She scanned the room, her darkvision piercing every shadow. Upon the desk are various alchemical ingredients. Mushrooms, night shade, a cup of boiled frog legs, salt, and seaweed. There's also a coin pouch, atop a small shelf, 100 silver, and an alchemy kit lay atop the table as well

A few paces away from the house, a branch could be heard snapping, followed by a surprised grunt. Barot turned toward the source of the sound, rapier tight in hand.

Saya continued her search across the inside of the hut. Despite it being their lead, it didn't seem like this hut was that of a kidnapper. It was too small to hide anything! Every now and then Saya would pick up a small bobble and examine it, but for now it didn't seem like whoever owned it was there nor were the women. "I don't get it... they have alchemic tools and such but decide to live out here. For the plants around maybe? But then why the vines... are bandits a problem for them? Ward off monsters?" she asked aloud for the others to also consider. She didn't catch the sound outside just yet as she checked the pantry as well, if nothing occured there she would look for anything hidden under carpets or furniture like a latch. The floor creaked under Saya's foot as she stepped over the rug by the bed.

"Oh!" Sif quickly procured his own rapier, but just as quickly made sure to place his hand on the blade, casting Light upon it. The bard now illuminated with a radiant white light, he tilted the blade towards the ground, although did not loosen his grip. His gaze dropped down to ensure that he had, indeed, stepped on a branch, before turning to face Barot.

Ahrem examined the fire, trying to judge when, and possibly how, it was extinguished. It was bordered by a ring of stones, ash and soot which covered the stones and leaked out onto the mud floor, trampled about. It seems it hasn't been tended to in some time, the fire having let slowly die out, some embers still burn faintly within below a large cooking pot of what appears to be water.

Barot shields his eyes from the radiant light emitted from the approaching figure. "Who goes there?"

Saya removes the rug from the area on the floor, just as Barot calls out. Pulling away the rug had revealed wooden floorboards in stark contrast with the dirt floor. A shallow handle and hinges indicate it is a trap door leading to a lower level. Turning to Ahrem she says. "Seems like we have company-" before walking out briskly to arrive by Barot's eyes to see the light glowing on the blade. Hand going to her own dagger she aimed to be ready in case the situation escalated, but something told her the person arriving wasn't their suspect. "Hello?"

Ahrem looked over to Saya, walking out, nodding. "I'll keep looking around here. Call me if there's any trouble."

"Just a traveling entertainer looking for answers," Sif replies. "I've received word that there's been several kidnappings as of late, targeting women. I'm hoping that I'm able to save a good..." He pauses for a moment, considering his words as he lowers his blade further to the ground. "A good friend of mine, who I haven't seen in quite some time." Barot looked on in wonder. "Is that magic you wield, stranger?"

"Magic?" Sif looked to his blade, slowly raising it parallel to his face before holding it skyward. After holding it up for a moment, he lowers it to the ground once more, admiring the blade before shaking his head. "No, sir. This is a rapier."

Saya looked Sif over twice aiming to see how trustworthy he seemed to be. As he mentioned his good friend, she was unsure if it was sadness or thought that made him pause, but he seemed to be genuine enough and was already here by his own volition. As Sif seemed to ignore the fact his blade was alit Saya glanced back indoors and commented. "Alright, if you are good with the blade and have some magical talent as seen by the light on your rapier you may be helpful. Cme in, we found a hatch." she added on quietly before walking back to the location in the hut the hidden door was. Back at it, she carefully opened it up hopeing there wern't more traps on this opening. Sif nodded, before slowly entering the house and taking note of the interior. "I presume all of us have the same common goal," he says, standing beside the trapdoor. "Let me introduce myself; I am Sif Grivune, finder of fables, lecturer of legends, and beacon of hope." With that, he bows dramatically, turning to face the others. Barot gives him a dubious look, but looking back at the light radiating from his sword, he gives a resigned nod. "Barot of Fairview." Saya glanced to Sif and pondered his introduction momentairly before nodding herself and replying. "Saya, it's a pleasure." Ahrem took a glance, at Sif, crossing his arms and nodding. "Didn't expect to see you here, Sif," he mentioned, before walking to Saya's side as she opened the hatch, thinking to himself. "I see you're working on those titles of yours." Sif nodded back with a smirk. "But of course. After all, the greatest pursuits in life often involve women, do they not?" Sif gave a hearty chuckle to his own joke. "I suppose we'll have to catch up later, however, seeing as how we've quite a dire task before us."

After introducing herself, Saya returend to trapdoor and pulled it open. Below the hatchway, a ladder leading down, oppressive darkness met the party. Peering through with her darkvision, Saya can see a dirt floor below about ten feet down. Sif crouched down beside the open trapdoor and began to search through his things for a moment. With Ahrem's familiarity Saya felt more comfortable with Sif having arrived. She trusted Ahrem enough for now and Sif no longer needed to be kept an eye on by her for safety if they were friends. "It's dark, but only ten feet down." she whispered before going to the ladder and carefully dropping down to then wait for the others. Deciding she should go first by the fact she can actually see unlike the others as far as she knew. Doing a turn, her goal to quickly surmise her surroundings was first and foremost. Being ambushed by herself before the others dropped after all wouldn't be good. "Don't worry, she's... got good vision." Ahrem noted as Saya went down the hatch, turning to Sif. "Why don't you throw your sword down that hatch, as well? Seems to have a good enough light." Sif blankly looks at Ahrem. "I had to save up five weeks worth of performing to get this sword, you know," he mumbled. "Although if it would help, I do have several candles I would be willing to spare." Barot interjected, voicing his complaints; "I do not relish the thought of venturing into that darkness." Sif turned to face Barot. "Would it ease your worries if I were to give you a candle?" "Nay," answered Barot, igniting a torch.

Saya found herself in a large chamber, much larger then the cramped hut. She couldn't see the otherside, the darkness over coming her darkvision 6o feet ahead. Her vision was further obscured by a series of racks where a great many bones hung. The racks were set up like walls, forming a maze that formed a confusing maze across the circular chamber. They could be stepped through so long as they don't mind the rattling of bones. Birds, game, and, to their horror, human bones hung upon the racks.

Sif shrugged and returned the candle to his backpack. "Very well." Replacing the glowing rapier onto his hip, he descended down the ladder into the darkness before redrawing his blade, only to cringe at the horrible sight before them. "What in Issaries' name?!"

Barot descended the ladder next, horror and grief overcoming him as he laid eyes on the countless bones that strung upon the racks. "Elonna!" He cried, unable to contain himself.

Saya had been silently gazing as the multitude of bones during the period in which the others took to follow down after her. It wasn't just the fact that it was bones that disturbed her, but rather how they wer ein fact arranged to be easily viewed. They were clean and cared for which was all the more worrisome. The rest of the body was missing, and why this was the case eluded Saya as she swallowed eventually. Surpressing a reflex to cry out or throw up, she turned to Barot with her eyes slightly low. "We need to get moving-" she stated quietly before she began moving down the alleys of bone, looking for whatever may be a sign of the culprit. Whatever they were up against, she got the feeling that it wouldn't end in peace even if she wanted it too. Sif took a deep breath, regaining his composure. He wouldn't be able to get away with calling himself a beacon of hope if he faltered at every evil in the world. He had to be an example, somebody who would be the light in the darkness. Turning to Barot, he watched the grief-stricken man as he cried out what he assumed was the name of somebody close to Barot. "Somebody you knew?" He asked, his voice a gentle whisper.

When Ahrem had descended along with the rest, he was horrified by the sight. Could this be what this herbalist is doing to these young women? Or is this a clever warning left to urge others to run while they can? Nevertheless, Ahrem draws his broadsword, prepared to mete out justice to this murderous hag, wherever she may be.

"Elonna! Hear me, daughter!" Barot called again, following behind Saya, torch and rapier in hand. As they walked forward, corralled through the chamber by the grim walls of bone, the bones became scarce, replaced with organs, dried and cured as they hang, and refuse along the dirt floor. A tattered cloak, a bit of bone, smear of blood, and a hunk of flesh feasted upon by maggots. "Gods hear me and strike the monster responsible for this!" Barot said through gritted teeth.

Saya at this point kept her eyes forward, her questions on the wherabouts of the organs found. What kind of hellish place is this for them to be harvesting so many parts? Either way, the smell was utterly foul making her raise her cloak to cover her nose and mouth. Further down this chamber she went, keen to make sure not another girl was sent to meet this fate as well. There still was no sign of the end of the chamber, and it was already outstandingly big. Did they tunnel this out for find it here before she wondered, but that questions answer was of no use to ending this dreadful situation.

"Daddy.... Daddy are you there?" Whispered a voice in the dark.

"Did you hear that?!" Cried Barrot "Elonna!" Sif's face turned dark for a fleeting moment, as he raised his hand. "Hold!" Sif shouted, preparing to restrain the man should he attempt to run towards the voice. However, Barot could not be contained as he lunged forward, stepping through the racks of organ and bones to the source of the sound to their left. "ELONNA!" The bones rattled as he stepped through, echoing across the chamber. Sif quickly switches his rapier to his offhand before procuring a dagger. "Sir, get a hold of yourself!" Sif calls out again. With caution, Sif advances to place himself a few feet closer towards Barot. "Elonna needs me!" Barot said, stepping deeper into the chamber, the veil of shadow peeling back from his torch, revealing more racks with intestines hanging in a grim display, roped and threaded to resemble spider webs.

“... Damn it. Follow Lord Barot and make sure he doesn’t get hurt!” Ahrem exclaimed, before chasing after him, sword in hand.

Saya moved to follow as well, knowing barot would not stop now. However, she knew it could be a trap and watched for an ambush

Barot pressed forward, growling with each wall of macabre he has to push past to reach his daughter. At last, they come to a clearing at the far side of the chamber. Sitting upon a chair, arms behind her back, sits a woman wearing a tattered robe, dirt and grime upon her face.

Daddy.

You came for me daddy.

Barot rushes forward, his back to the party, taking his daughter in an embrace. "Of course I did, sweetling! Let's untie these hands. Wait.... they're untied?" In the dance of the torch light, shadows flickered. In one instant was the beautiful face of Elonna, the next it was a horrid woman, skin grey and nearly translucent with a manic smile inhumanly long upon her face. She lashes out at Barot's throat but he has already begun stepping back, her hands scrape harmlessly against his breastplate causing a hail of sparks.

The hag rises up from the seat, regarding the party with sadistic eyes, the smile frozen on her twisted face, her hands out stretched toward them, elongated claws at their tips. Ahrem pointed an open palm at the hag, focusing himself as he tries to cast that one spell... Missile of Magic, was it called? The magic, however... he could feel it, but the words.. they don't seem to come out quite right. And when they are finally complete, a blast of crackling energy flies out of his hand, zipping for the hag. A beam of energy shoots forth from ahrem hands, crackling as it hits the hag's center mass. She shrieks, yet her smile remains frozen in place. Sif gritted his teeth, putting his dagger away as he tried to think about what to do. He wasn't sure if he could take the hag in a straight battle, but he could still try to help. A wicked smirk danced across his face, as he prepared one of his personal favorite cantrips: Vicious Mockery. It was a little less than heroic, and certainly not impressive for anybody, but it would still get the job done. "How could you be so ugly that even the other hags want nothing to do with you?" Sif shouted. The hag turned to sif, though her smile insists, her eyes are frantic with tears streaming down. The hag, focused on sif now, approaches with a shriek, her painted smile frozen as tears streak her face. She clawed wildly at the bard but is clearly effected by his words, and strikes wide. Saya stayed back from the others after being unable to grasp barot who had ran forward. With the hag approaching them after failing to hurt Barot Saya called out. "Why! Why did you need to kill those women?" It was unclear if all these bones and flesh were for some strange magic like she had done earlier to look like Elonna, but the fact she could at least make an illusion left Saya to begin her own incantation. Aiming to make it seems like adreniline and passion in the others, she casted bless behind Ahrem and Sif, invigorating their attacks and defenses with divine luck. Barot rushes the hag, his sword flashing through the air, enraged at the false hope snatched away from him. Attacking at her side, she catches the blade in her claw, her head slowly turning to face, smiling wide. He pulls his blade free of her grasp. "You devil!" Ahrem runs for the hag, his sword out as he prepares to strike her, motivated by Saya’s blessing. “Sif whatever you just did, do it again!” Ahrem called, before he swung his broad blade for the hag, holding it with two hands.

But he missed.

Nice.

The hag deftly sidestepped the powerful swing of Ahrem's sword. As the battle goes on it becomes clear this being is not if this world. Her body is stooped, seemingly unable to stand straight, her arms elongated unnaturally, and her wretched smile horrifying. Sneering in the face of the horrible creature, Sif supposed that this would be the best way to aid the trio in their battle against the hag. He wasn't too fond of the horrible monster standing in his face like that, however, and she seemed quite intent on attacking him. Perhaps one of the others would force her to shift focus soon. "You've the look and combat skill of a one-armed, hunger-stricken street rat; and I'm sure they'd strike truer and look more pleasant than you ever could!" Sif shouted, attempting to disrupt the hag's focus with further use of Vicious Mockery. The hag stared at the bard with her fixed smile. Her eyes lacked the same intensity now, merely looked with sadistic delight as her claws opened and closed at her sides. The smile persists, letting out a delighted shriek as her claws strike across Sif's chest, leaving a trail of blood and a horrid gash. Saya, seeing Sif damaged, reacts by clenching her hands together and praying for a brief second. "micantis Regia fulmine!" She called out before before a golden glow moved from her symbol, down her arms, and shot out towards the Hag while she casted Guiding Bolt. The hag key loose an ear splitting shriek as the bolt penetrated, seeming to cast her body aglow for a moment. Her smile, at last had faded, twisted in agony. Barot struck from behind the hag, the blade of his rapier bursting out the other side of her chest. The hag exhales in a defeated sigh, falling to the ground, dead. As the Hag fell to the earth beneath it's feet, Saya slowly lowered her arms to walk over and examine the body more closely.

Saya pats down the dead hag, checking her pockets thoroughly. She finds two pouches, one is fastened to a rope and hangs around her neck. Rattling as she handles it, she opens to make the grim discovery that it is full of dozens of teeth. The second pouch, found in her pocket, holds four gemstones of opaque crimson. She dropped the bag of teeth as she opened it due to surprise. Frankly disgusted by the fact that the hag had been collecting it. However, they didn't have an answer why the hag felt the need to do any of this, and nor have they heard anyone else alive down her. The gems, while useful for wealth, were a bittersweet find that she stored away for the moment as she began glancing around the basement again. Looking for any more signs or clues where to head to find if anyone was alive.

Ahrem sheathed his sword, taking a knee, for a moment. That was the first time he’s ever fought something so... horrifyingly hideous. He almost feels as if he’s about to throw up...

Barot looked down at the dead creature, grief stricken across his weary face. "I shudder to think what fate has befallen my Elonna."

Saya searched the room, her darkvision revealing what seems to be a seating area. As she approaches and the veil of shadow is lifted, she can see a horrifying scene unfold before her. Thirteen dead women sit in a circle facing each other. Their faces are disfigured, their eyes torn out, and terrifying smiles cut across their faces. Most are disemboweled, their organs removed. It is a haunting sight to behold, yet Saya braves the image and finds upon a small table, beside an empty chair, a letter. One corner is torn and maggots squirm out of the opening. A muted whimper comes from Barot as he follows Saya. "No."

Ahrem finally stands up, before following Saya. He wouldn't dare begin to search the room, as his vision is poor, especially in the dark, and he keeps his head down as they enter the room with the mutiliated corpses, keeping a nose plugged. Noticing the letter, however, Ahrem decides to see what it says.

Bavora ~ It breaks my heart you have left the coven. I fear what will become of you in the city of men. You were always weak to control your impulses. Come back home and all will be forgiven. Mumsy Gravewyrm

Barot strides forward with purpose. Tenderly he releases the binds of one of the bodies, lifting her up over his shoulder. His face was downcast and hidden, yet it did not take a much to imagine the grief it held. He staggered through the party, toward the ladder that led up into the small hut above.

Saya moved away from the sight of the corpses and closed her eyes for a good minute as she did her best to not empty her stomach. The sight and smell the bodies gave was truly worse than the visage of the hag. Not only had that occurred, but she also had to use her magic to fight off the creature as well. Either way, this was ending exactly how she had feared when taking up the mission. In the end all they did was prevent further murders rather than save any of the 13 women who had already passed by the time they arrive. Wiping a tear that started growing in the corner of her eye, she let out her breath and spoke quietly. "We should go... we can have guards come and retrieve the bodies..." Swallowing once she didn't dare turn back a final time as she made her way towards the ladder.

Sif, still in shock after his very close brush with death, slowly shambled into the room, holding up his glowing blade. Upon seeing the corpses, his pained expression gave way to that of regret and sorrow. "We were too late," the bard lamented, his eyes jumping from one body to the next. His stomach was on the brink of spewing it's contents, forcing him to turn his gaze away as he leaned against a wall. After a brief moment spent acquiring enough resolve to turn back, Sif watched Barot gather what he presumed was Elonna. How unfortunate it was for everybody involved... Yet, in spite of this, curiosity tore at him. He wanted to look again, to find out if she was among the dead. It was only his determination and the fact that he was already moments away from coming undone that allowed him to restrain himself. He would delegate that to the poor soul - or souls - that would have to relay the news back to the worried families. "Let's go," Sif quietly whispered.

Ahrem kept the note, for a moment, mouthing the name, Gravewyrm, to himself. Some sort of hag more devious, more dangerous, more... horrifying than the one they just faced. Perhaps this could be a threat to Haven, especially if she wished for any ill will against the townsfolk. Or perhaps... if Ahrem were to make contact, he could learn more about his curse. Hags are proficient in curses, aren't they? Nevertheless, Ahrem stuffed the note onto his belt, looking around for anything else of interest in the hag's lair. Ahrem took a quick look around, but his mind is preoccupied with the contents of the letter, and the darkness weighs heavily. He notices nothing more of note.

Ahrem sighed, walking over to the hag's corpse, once more. He began to cut a chunk of his bedroll- he'll need to buy another one,- in order to make a nice wrap, before unsheathing his sword. Unsure of what sinister magic this hag had used, Ahrem made sure to cleanly cleave her head right off, in order to both confirm her death for his comfort, and so the Watch will know of their efforts. With that done, Ahrem grabs the hag's head with the torn bedroll, tying it into some sort of makeshift sack to carry her head around.

Saya makes it up the ladder and waits for the others to escape as well before closing the hatch and leaving it uncovered by the rug for the guards to find later. Leaving the hut with the others, she found more comfort in the cold and dark night than she thought she would, pleased to finally be out of the horrid basement. Glancing to the bard when he came up and seeing his injuries, she carefully stepped to him while reaching behind herself to bring out small bandages. "Here-" she simply stated as she aimed to try and at least bandage his gash for now, though her spells had been used up to heal it up otherwise. Once he reaches the top, the bard's dashed enthusiasm returns only slightly as he gives a faint smile. "Thanks," he says, as he stands still to allow her to bandage his wounds. "I don't think the person I was looking for was one of the ones taken by that accursed witch, thank the heavens..." Sif trails off after that, as if he had started to say something but changed his mind at the last moment. Saya patched up the wounds as best she can. Her knowledge of medicine informs her that the cut is clean, at least, the hag's claws not laced with some poison. "It should heal alright," Saya stated before replacing her kit.

As Ahrem ascended, he clutched the makeshift sack he made by the knot, looking to the rest his companions. "I have her head. We can probably turn it in, along with the location of this hut, to the Guards tonight, if you wish. I think it would be wise to leave a torch or some other noticable mark in the event her lingering magic obscures the hut from them." Saya nodded slightly and replied. "Marking the hut and the path leaving from the road should be enough." Heading out behind Barot, she left the lord who carried his daughter alone for now as she wanted to make it back to the city before monsters came upon them."Ahrem's right," Sif agreed. "We should leave something behind to mark the house before we return to the town. Does anyone have a torch to spare?"

At that moment, the march of boots could be heard followed by the glow of torches down the path. Six officers of the Watch walked two abreast, approaching cautiously with their weapons drawn.... "Who goes there?!" Called the lead guard, catching sight of the silhouettes of the adventurers.
Barot had already started down the path ahead of the party. "Barot of Fairview," he answered. "There are twelve more dead inside. Justice has been served by my companions and myself."

The guards raised a halting hand to the nobleman. "You'll have to hold here while we take a look, m'lord."

Barot growled. "I go to see to my daughter. Try and stop me."

Sif frowned, holding out a hand. "Please, sir, just wait. It shouldn't take more than a moment." His upbeat tone has been replaced with that of dolor, and his face paled due to the grievous wound placed upon him by the hag. The bandage would prevent the wound from festering, but he still felt quite dazed from the sudden strike the hag had landed on him shortly before they had managed to defeat him. "We need no more conflict than what we have already suffered today," the bard quietly argued, a smile slowly creeping onto his face from behind a pained grimace.

Barot nodded slowly. "Very well." The guard turned to Sif, eyeing the wound. He pulled a vial from his belt, handing it to Sif. "Here. A potion of healing." The guards pushed past the party, filing into the hut, two remaining to keep watch at the door. "Thank you, sir," Sif gratefully nodded, uncorking the vial and downing the liquid within. Taking a deep breath, the bard felt the pain in his chest ease significantly. The color returned to his face, and he held himself up straighter. He wasn't entirely healed, but he wasn't going to depart from the world anytime soon.

Some time passed, the party awaiting the guards' return. After about an hour, the lead officer stepped out of the hut, his face pale with the shocking scene below. "See to your daughter, m'lord. My apologies for holding you up." Barot nodded curtly, treading back down the path once more. The guard then turned and addressed the rest of the party. "I am Sargent Clayton of the Watch. I'll be needing your names, an account of the events, and any items you have taken from the scene."

“Ahrem Grenstone.” The swordsman said, plainly, before offering the makeshift sack containing the hag’s head. He kept the note, however, stowed away somewhere. “I only took but one thing.” The guard takes the sack, clearly anticipating its contents. He set it down, peering inside before tying it tight once more. "I've heard tales of such wretched creatures... Never did I think I would lay mine own eyes on one."

Saya would remain quiet for the moment, letting Ahrem speak with the guard in terms of recounting the tale. Only when asked for her name would she quietly say "You can call me Saya."

"Sif Grivune," the bard introduced himself. "Seeker of Legends, Teller of Tales, and Beacon of Brightness!" With a dramatic flourish, he waved his hand in front of him as he bowed. "I've not taken a thing from this wretched abode."

The guard drew out a small ledger from his pouch, wetting a quill with his tongue before jotting down the names, and tearing three papers from the book, handing each of them one in turn. "Present these to the main gate of the Castle of Lords. You will receive payment for your services here. If it were up to me, you would be commended by the High Lord himself. I shall allow some time before I follow up with Barot of Fairview. As an Officer of the Watch, you have my sincere thanks."

"I believe it is right to help the people whenever they require it." Ahrem said, before taking a bow to the guard. "But I thank you, for your compliments. You are too kind. Have a good night, Officer."

Saya waited for the guard to after getting her paper leave before looking to Ahrem and nodding gently. "I'm surprised at the appreciation they showed after how they acted earlier..." she whispered before glancing around at the night. It has been one hell of a long day, and she could feel the exhaustion come over her. "We should go deal with these papers... and then I would like to go and rest myself. I thank you both for doing this work with me, as I couldn't have done it without your aid."

While a stable in the farms that was known to rent out space to urchins and vagabonds certainly wasn't a hive of criminal of criminal activity, it wasn't crawling with guards either, which made it a very good spot for clandestine meetings. Among the people currently occupying the stable, there was a lanky human seated on a bail of hay. In his hands was a hardly touched bowl of broth. He was waiting for someone. Someone who had just arrived. His name was Leon Vanovar, and he was a hired killer. Although the hired part hadn't really come into effect yet. "Were you followed?" the human asked as Leon sat down on the hay bail next to him.
"No" Leon replied simply "Do you have the list?".
"I have it right here" the human said before producing a roll of parchment and handing it to Leon "Happy hunting, Leon". With that said, the human got up and walked away, leaving the broth. Once he was gone, Leon opened the roll of parchment and began to read through the list of the most recent small time hits the local crime bosses had put out on various individuals.

The prisoner's burst open the door, inside was a office filled with the scream's of overpowered guards, a raving mob of prisoner's took a hold of a guard, shoving him to the ground and hitting him again and again and again, growing bloodier with every smack, Gregorii walked into the room, taking in a deep breath of air, he smiled, taking delight in the suffering of guards, they reaped what they sowed, and so they would die.

He searched the office, grabbing out a vial and downing it in one gulp, his cut's were mended, wounds healed, he felt uplifted as now, he wasn't on the verge of death. two prisoner's were coming to blows over a coin purse, Gregorii scowled, and ripped the coin bag from them, giving both of the prisoner's a equal share, if they wanted to get out alive, they had to work together, so far the prisoner's had done anything but that, they would all die.

"Oi, let's move it on lads!" hollered a dark-eyed dwarf, who was making his way up a staircase, Gregorii nodded and ran up, he was no fool, he had to run if he wanted to see the next day, the next room had another staircase, as well as a strange rune marking a door, "What does it say?" he asked the dwarf, who was already rushing up the next set of stairs. "The dead are buried here, best we move on" the dwarf said in a hushed tone, Gregorii merely nodded and ran up the stairs, he had a aching feeling that the room with the rune, was going to be filled to the brim by the end of the day.

"I'm Forad Oakchest by the way" Forad spoke breathlessly as he climbed the stairs, Gregorii muttered his name back, he was a man of few words, there was no point in using ten words when one would work. The Duo came across a room, a brazier split on the ground with coals everywhere, a robed man was strewn upon the ground, blood leaking from a hole in his head. Gregorii felt no pity for the man, Priests and Guard's, they were like rats, feasting off of the dead, taking what they want and killing those they hate, he wished he could call a exterminator for these kinds of pests too. "May your beard grow long Gregorii" Forad cast a peculiar eye upon him, the sounds and screams of combat laid ahead of them, as they hopped over the coals and advanced to the next room.

In the next room, a guard was wrestling over a mace with a prisoner, dead prisoner's were strewn upon the ground, that guard was strong, he might've made it to the next day had Gregorii not arrived. With a yell, Gregorii ripped the guard away from the prisoner, throwing him down the stairs to his bloody death, Oakchest pulled Gregorii to the next room, they only had so much time, the difference between life and death was a single mistake, being in the wrong place at the wrong time can make all the difference.

At last they came upon a landing, their was a door and another staircase, but beyond it lies a courtyard, a simple run to freedom, Gregorii peered out, but he noticed archer's and guards running across a wall, setting up a trap, setting up their deaths, If they went outside, they would die. that is that. Suddenly Forad walked up beside Gregorii, "We're dead if we go out their, send the other's out they'll serve as a distraction while we escape" breathed Forad, the word's falling from his mouth as if it was nothing, Gregorii glared at Forad, he was not going to betray his own, "We're a team, if anyone's a distraction it's you god-lover" he spat out, countless had died in his crusade for freedom, he was not going to add to that list anytime soon. "Out lads!, to freedom!" Forad swung open the door, causing the prisoner's to rush out to their deaths, Gregorii was filled with rage, pushing prisoner's away from the door, but it was no use, Forad had shoved the last nail into their coffin, they weren't a team, they were coffins with legs.

"YOU FUCKER!" Gregorii yelled, trying to grab Forad by the neck, Oakchest's face contorted with surprise, but Gregorii was filled with even more surprise, as Oakchest grabbed him back and threw him out the door, threw him into a early grave, he scrambled to get out, arrows flew through the air, butchering prisoner's by the dozens, the courtyard turned red with blood, he scrambled to get back in, calling out desperately for the other's to come back, but it was too late, they were either dead, or about to be, Gregorii promised he'd kill Oakchest for this, he was nothing but another rat, waiting to be exterminated.

He ran back up the stairs, shoving a nearby guard down the flight of stairs, sending him crashing down to his death, he came upon another door, leading outside to a wall, freedom was right in front of him, outside the wall's were houses, which he could easily jump onto, but he glanced to his left and spot Oakchest wrestling with a guard, Gregorii merely glared at Oakchest once, then got up on the wall to leave, No one would miss that god-lover, certainly not Gregorii. Suddenly a armed guard crashed into him, which Oakchest had pushed onto Gregorii, sending the two of them tumbling to the ground, He saw that damned God-lover, with a shit-eating grin on his face as he jumped onto the rooftops, yelling "Gods be with you Gregorii!" as he dashed out of sight, the god's certainly weren't with Gregorii, for the guard smashed in his head with a mace, beating him into unconsciousness once more, all his effort's slipped away, extinguishing like the sun snuffed out by the gods.

Eudaxia

A gentle hand touched Eudaxia's shoulder, stirring her from her slumber. "Eudaxia?" A gravelly voice asked.
She jumped awake with a start, momentarily panicked then relaxed as she remembered what had happened. Dustran was watching her, and the regular rhythm of plodding hooves on cobbles which had lulled her to sleep had stopped. The carriage was stationary. "where are we?" she asked him, rubbing her eyes. She felt better after her rest, but her complaining stomach reminded her only one of her needs had been met.
"I regret having to wake you" said Dustran, "but we have arrived at the castle, and Shaemus is waiting."
Shaemus. What did these people want from her? He had claimed to want to give her answers, but nothing in life was free. "Alright, lets go." she said, getting down from the vehicle and getting her bearings.

They were in a large courtyard surrounded by high walls and the Castle of Lords ahead, its high towers reaching up into the black sky, dark and foreboding. An intimidating structure even when viewed from the distant parts of the city, up close it felt more oppressive than the keep had. She had never been this near. She was technically allowed to visit the rich districts of the city, but seldom did. She'd tried begging there once, when she was new. She'd made a killing from the crowd, and then had been promptly beaten to within an inch of her life in an alley, after a shopkeeper had scolded a watchman for allowing her to sour the scenic street with her presence.
"This way, Eudaxia." Dustran lead her through the courtyard, along a cobblestone path that wound around a plot of earth. At one time no doubt a magnificent garden, but now it was bare, mere mushrooms and stunted shrubs the only things that grew.

Her mind stinging with memories, she fought down the feelings of awe and at her surroundings. She was under no illusions. Acts of charity did not exist. If they had busted her out, then they needed something, and her magic was the only remarkable thing about her. She followed closely, and decided to try and tease some answers from the man. "I don't mean to be rude, your grace." she said finally. "But why are we here, if we're visiting Shaemus, shouldn't we be at the temple?"
"Perhaps if what we discussed was a matter for the priesthood. Alas no. Our business concerns all of Haven." he said. Palace guards, clad in shining steel and holding spears, turned their heads as they passed, no doubt in awe at the sight of the company his grace was keeping. "Besides, I have the impression you may not be quite comfortable in Godsreach."
She kept her gaze lowered from the passing guards, aware of how terrible she must look in her state. This is not my world she thought with distress. I don't know how it works. I don't know how to act. Left with only more questions after Dustran's cryptic reply, she followed him to the far end of the courtyard, to the south east corner of the castle grounds. There the walls intersected with a high tower, fires burning bright in the windows above. Two guards saluted Dustran as they neared, and opened the double doors with a bow.
She hesitated before entering, though the dark interior held no secrets for her eyes. "Why me, your grace." she said finally, as they entered into a large chamber with a high vaulted ceiling hoisted up by pillars and A hearth burning brightly on the left wall before a seating area. On the other side of the room was another set of double doors, and bookshelves ran along the right wall. A servant stood before them with a bowed head. "I just don't understand, what could you possibly want from someone like me?"
Dustran turns around to face her, pulling his blue robe back and placing his hands on his hips, some measure of his patience fading. "I sense the power that swirls about you, Eudaxia. I feel the arcane energy but it is wild, untamed, and unfocused. Do not deny it! I am no gaelor or miscreant!" His cool blue eyes bored into her like icicles.
She shrivelled before his gaze like it were fire, not ice, saying nothing. He raised his chin with a stern look before spinning around to face the servant. "Garys, bring refreshments for our guest. Have her fitted as well for some clean clothes."
"Yes, your Grace. At once!" The servant bowed before disappearing behind the door to the right.
Dustran motioned to the seating area by the fire. "Join me, please."
She did so, sitting gingerly on the edge of a chair, so she could be closer to the warmth of the fire. Dustran removed his hat, brushing his white hair from his face as he sat down with a sigh. He regarded her for a moment, his demeanour turning kindly, offering a slight smile as he crossed his legs, but saying nothing. He seemed to expect her to start the conversation.

"so, um..." she tried, uncomfortable in the silence. "Seeing as you are definitely not, as you put it... 'a gaelor or a miscreant'." she said wearily. "Do you mind me asking who are, your grace?"
"How rude of me!" He exclaimed, standing up with a bow. "I am Dustran. High Wizard of Haven, and Chief Advisor to the High Lord." He sat down after the introduction.
"High....wizard..." she said, eye twitching slightly in shock. This was no noble. she was casually sitting across from the second most influential person in all of Haven. "That is...I mean... It is an honor..." she stumbled. What In the Nine Hells have I gotten myself into.
Dustran actually laughed. "Oh please! Would you believe only a few years ago I was but a mere librarian?" he said, waving a dismissive hand.
At that moment the far door opened and Garys wheeled out a cart of food with accompanying silver dishes and cutlery. There was egg fried bread, porridge with fruit and nuts, raspberries, cream and hot tea, chilled water and milk. Garys placed the fine fare on the tea table before them, then stood off to the side, a string in his hands. "Would the lady kindly stand for her measurements?"
She gazed at the food with wide eyes, her belly informing her that something far more important than a High Wizard demanded her attention, but stood, her eyes fixed on the cart, as if afraid it might disappear.
"Make it quick, Garys. If you'll please" Dustran said with slight amusement. "I believe our guest is famished."
The servant said nothing but quickly began running the string across Eudaxia's limbs and around her waist and chest before disappearing once again.
"Eat Eudaxia, please!" Dustran said. It was an order.
She sat back down. Normally she would have been suspicious, but she did not question the feast in front of her in her hunger. Still, there were three different kinds of fork and four things that looked qualified to be spoons, and she had to make an educated guess as to which of the many fancy utensils was intended for each dish. She did not gorge herself, but ate with restraint, knowing her company. She savoured every bite of the rich food, each new flavour like a fresh wave of water over a dry and cracked beach. The cream and porridge were thick. The fruit juicy and succulent. The bread was warm and crispy. She'd never realised food could be so good, for Eudaxia, it was just something else you needed to stay alive.

Dustran watched her with a smile. "Tell me, Eudaxia, can we have an honest conversation?" he said finally.
She paused in her eating, her guard returning slightly. "I... forgive me your grace, if I seem defensive." she said after finishing her mouthful. "I feel very much out of my depth right now. Maybe it would be easier if I knew what all of this was about." she said, still treading carefully.
"That is understandable. Where shall we begin then? Were you born in Haven?" he said turning serious, making no attempt to answer her unasked question.
"Yes. I mean, I think so. I was abandoned here by my parents when I was little." she said, put out a little.
"How awful. Do you know what became of them?"
"Yes..." she said, conversationally. "I learned some years later that they were killed." This was her second interrogation of the day, though a lot more pleasant than the first. Wilo asked about my parents too. she thought. A joking part of her wondered if she was still under arrest, and this was just "good cop, bad cop" taken to ridiculous extremes.
"Tragic. So who raised you? An orphanage then?" She could sense he was measuring her up, judging her somehow.
"I raised myself, mostly." she continued. "some others of my kind took me in, early on. But they treated me badly." her fists balled at the memories. "I learned I was better off on my own."
"Hard enough for an orphan, much less a tiefling" he commented solemnly. "How did you survive all these years on your own?"
"I begged. I tricked... stole, when I needed to." she confessed, "Then..." Then the dream. The demon. The magic. "Things became a little easier when I discovered my magic. I was able to look after myself better. Do things like what I did with Shaemus, hunt rats in the sewers."
"Indeed" he said, contemplatively "You must understand it is a rare thing to be able to wield magic, Eudaxia. I can help you tap into your power, learn to focus it, if you will let me." He raised an eyebrow. "Do you know how you came by your abilities?"
This. This was what she needed. Was he really offering to teach her? But she couldn't answer his question properly. Who knew what he would do if he discovered her powers came from a demon. "I would very much like to understand more about magic." she said eagerly. "I don't really know how it works. I just seemed to discover them in myself one day."
Dustran eyed her for a long moment then sighed, shaking his head. "I hope one day you will come to trust me."
Just then the door opened and Garys brought out a set of fine clothes. "Through the door there you will find a powder room you may change in, my lady," said the servant.

She excused herself awkwardly, going into the side room and changing into the new clothes. They were practical but elegant, and fit her well. The dressing room contained various wardrobes, stands with powders and bottles of what she assumed must be perfume, as well as a full length mirror. The girl that stared back from the reflective surface was different from the one she was accustomed to. She seemed weary, and seemed to be lacking much of her trademark self confidence. But she wore finery, not rags. This person was better than an urchin. She rather thought the colours complemented her yellow eyes and tan skin. Garys knew his job well. Does my tail look big in this? she caught herself wondering, then shook herself out of it. She would not be taken in by fantasy. For now this was nothing more than a costume, though an expensive one. She had lost all her money in the jail, if nothing else came of the day, she could probably sell the clothes. Perhaps she could wear them to the masquerade. she was tempted to pinch something on the way out, but this could easily be some kind of test, and her paranoia won in the end.

Dustran awaited her in the outer hall, beckoning her to join him. "Come, its past time we joined Shaemus"
They walked to the double doors at the end of the hall. The wizard pulled the doors open to a small empty chamber awaited them, he stepped inside and turned to face the entrance, nodding at Eudaxia to do the same.
Inside, a whirring sounded beneath the floor, followed by a jolt, then the room began to rise, climbing up and passing over a great number of doors as they reached higher and higher up the tower. Eudaxia's eyes expanded in wonder. "is it magical, or mechanical?"
Dustran smiled under his snow white beard. "Mechanical. A device I exhumed from an Old Elven ruin in Isera."
She wondered what it would be like, adventuring through an old ruin in search of treasure and secrets. She could hardly picture the old man doing it, though they'd already established there was more to him than met the eye, herself however...

"So... If I wanted to learn more about the nature of magic, where could I go to do that?" she asked, refocusing and trying to sound timid.
The lift came to a stop, halting at a door. Dustran pushed it open, revealing a modestly sized parlour. There was a seating area, a small book shelf, a window with thousands of twinkling lights of the city below, and a door on the far side. "I can teach you, Eudaxia," he assured her. "If you can prove to be an able student, that is." He stepped out of the lift, toward the door on the far side.
"I would work hard." she said with determination, wandering over to the window, looking out at the the city she knew like the back of her hand. From up here it seemed an entirely different beast. So big. So bright and dark at the same time.
Dustran stopped by the door, turning toward Eudaxia. "Of that I have no doubt. What concerns me, however, is if you will use your powers responsibly."
Dustran pusheed the door open without waiting for a response and stepped through. On the other side was a surprisingly modest chamber compared to the other rooms. It was small, had a desk and a few chairs, a hearth, and what appeared to be an alchemy lab and books. Lots of books. It almost seemed as though the books were taking over the solar. Sitting at the table was Shaemus, who stood up and faced their direction as they entered.

"Shaemus," said Dustran. "I believe you've met Eudaxia."
The blind priest held out a hand toward Eudaxia. "I am glad you're now safe, child."
She entered the solar, looking around curiously at the alchemical equipment and taking Shaemus' questing hand. "I suppose I have you to thank for that, Shaemus." she said. It wasn't quite a thank-you. More an acknowledgment of debt. Still, she wondered how he was able to secure the help of the High Wizard.
Shaemus smiled, giving Eudaxia's hand a firm squeeze before releasing it. "Actually it is his Grace you have to thank. He came to me."
"Reports of magic misuse are taken very seriously in Haven, and I see to them personally," explained Dustran. "It was the merchant you attempted to rob that pointed me to my dear friend, Shaemus." He sat casually on his desk, motioning for Eudaxia to have a seat on an empty chair across from him.
"I will get to the point. I have need of someone of your particular talents, Eudaxia. You have lived through the worst of this city. Raised on the streets, you know first hand of the dangers and the rot that festers within it. Haven is changing. After coming so close to destruction by the hands of the Shadow Cult, we turn to the Gods once more, and put our faith in heroes." Dustran paused a moment, becoming lost in grim recollection before continuing. "I intend to find men and woman of stout hearts that are willing to sacrifice all for the sake of this city, nay the world! I intend to find successors to the Heroes of Haven! My dear, I believe I may have found one." His blue eyes stared intently into hers.
Eudaxia sat still, confounded. The cards were finally on the table, and they didn't make sense. What did the wizard see in her? She was no Hero. Heroes were crazy people, sacrificing themselves for the sake of others. But... if that was what Dustran needed from her, maybe she could fake it till she made it. Playing a role was what she did best after all. "I will be frank." she said slowly. Her rescuers deserved that much. "The Heroes of Haven are probably dead, and I have no desire to meet that same fate. I'm in no hurry to Martyr myself for this city, let alone the world, after how it has treated me... But having said that, I don't want to go back to just eeking out a living on the streets either." she said fiercely. "I'm not afraid of danger. I owe you, and you're offering me the things I need. I won't be doing it for the city's sake, but if you help me, I'll be whatever you need me to be. She sat back in the chair, arms folded, tail twitching, awaiting their response. A straight up trade. she hated being beholden to others, but such an arrangement she could handle. It may not be exactly what he wanted, but a selfish hero was the best she could give him for now. If she ended up doing some good along the way, that was just a bonus.
Dustran let out a deep breathe, stroking his beard in thought and looking to Shaemus. The priest gave a curt nod, as if he could see the wizards glance. "My friend has faith in you," Dustran said finally. "However, I am not as easily convinced. I hope your coming deeds will convince me otherwise."

Eudaxia nodded. It was fair. She would get him his results. "So, for what reason are you so keen to gather successors for the heroes?" she said, turning businesslike. "is there a task you have for me?"
Dustran's eyes grew dark, his voice lowered. "Tell me, Eudaxia, have you heard of the Sword of Maha Dun?"
The what of what now? "ehh, no?" she said. She knew little of stories and legends, outside of what drunks told at the Rusty Cudgel.
Shaemus joined in with a conspiratorial tone. " The sword of Maha Dun is a relic of the Warp of Demons, wielded by the ancient Demon Lord Maha Dun. When the demon was defeated, his fallen blade was fragmented into three shards."
"Should the blade be reforged," said Dustran, "Maha Dun's corporeal form will reshape in the material plane. Under great secrecy, one shard was brought to Haven for safe keeping. Last night, it was stolen!"
Her blood ran cold. "A.. demon?" she said, feeling a little sick. More demons. The topic was following her everywhere. Nerull is coming. He swallows the world. His shadow calls The Half-elf's mantra from the night before filled her head. "do you have any idea who stole it? where was it being kept?" she said. mind racing. If they were expecting her to help recover it, she would need to know as much as possible about the robbery.
"The shard was being kept in the catacombs of the Larenthian Temple, in Godsreach," explained Shaemus.
"We apprehended a dwarven agent nearby, a member of the Order of Valhammer, an elite warrior of the Underkingdom of Razor," said Dustran. "We believe it may not be mere coincidence that the shard was stolen a day before the arrival of King Wrothiron. You should begin your investigation at the temple, and learn what you can from this captured agent. Our mutual acquaintance Wilo at Founder's Keep, can aid you in this."
Her eyes blazed slightly at the mention of Wilo, but then she remembered something else. "There was such a dwarf in the cell I shared when you released me. He addressed you." she said to Dustran. "Is he the one I need to interrogate?" Regardless, she thought she would investigate the temple first as he suggested. "Wait, are you saying that Wrothiron might be behind this?" she said with a start.
Dustran sighed. "The alliance between Haven and Razor has been strained in recent years. One of many consequences of the nihilism and xenophobia that had ruled this city. We have made strides to mend this old friendship, however, since Wrothiron lost his eldest son and heir, he's been unpredictable. Who knows what goes on in his mind. As for the prisoner you met previously, yes. He is Forad Oakchest, and an agent of the king's. He has told us nothing, but perhaps you may have better luck."
"Sounds like he'd have to be pretty nuts to try summoning a demon." she said standing up. "Well, tomorrow is Founder's day, so I better get started. Is there anything else I should know before I go? and... are the other shards safe, or could we have a literal demon on our hands as far as we know?"
"You need only concern yourself with this one," said Dustran. "The priests at the temple should tell you all you need to know. And here, take this..." Dustran handed here a circular pin, rimmed with gold and blood red, with a gold cross etched on the surface. "This badge identifies you as an errant of the High Lord. And for expenses..." he handed an astonished Eudaxia a heavy purse of gold. "You needn't take on this task alone." he advised. "Use this to hire a sellsword to watch your back, and any other expense you may incur. I've also arranged a room for you at the Castle Inn should you need lodgings."
Eudaxia attached the pin to her clothes, but concealed from immediate view. Her eyes bulged slightly as she was handed the heavy purse. It held hundreds of gold pieces. She simply held it for a moment, carefully, as if it were a baby bird. This can't be real. It was too much money. Too much.

But what was she going to do? Give it back?

She seemed to struggle for a second, as if chewing something unfamiliar. "Thank... you.", she said finally. "I won't let you down." Then she swept from the room, before anything else crazy happened.
"Eudaxia!" Called Shaemus, following her out of the room, a new walking stick in hand. "Take great care in how you proceed. I'd gladly go with you if I had my sight, but seeing how I'd just end up tripping over myself like last night, probably not the best course." He chuckled. "Follow his Grace's advice. Enlist aid for this venture. The Craven Kraken at the harbour is a known hive for mercenaries. And judge well who you hire! The last thing you need is a knife in the back!"
"I will!" she called. She was all too aware of the possibility of being betrayed. "And nice stick!" she says, as she disappeared into the lift contraption, noticing the new item for the first time.

Once she'd gotten inside the whirring device, and located the runes that marked "ground floor", she simply stared at the pouch in her hand. It has to be a trick she thought. She weighed, bit and otherwise closely examined several of the coins, but if they were fakes, they were good. There were five-hundred of them. He's mad. He must be mad only a madman would trust her, a thief, with this much money. It had to be a mistake. A big mistake. he would realise his error and send someone to stop her. She should run now whilst she had the chance, her paranoia screamed. With this much money she could live comfortably for years. She could buy a horse and flee the city. They'd never find her then. She could buy a fleet of horses. She could... she could...
She gripped the side of the lift with one hand, feeling dizzy, and took a couple of deep breathes to compose herself. It would be so easy to take the money and run... but she couldn't. Why? she screamed in her head. Why can't I just take it all and go?

Because she needed to find out more about her powers. It was a revelation for her, holding a bag of five-hundred gold pieces in her hand after a life of poverty and realizing that she valued getting to the bottom of the mystery more. Maybe Dustran realized he had that kind of hold on her. That magic was that attractive. It also made her admit to herself, in her bones, truly how afraid she was of the demon. It didn't matter if she ran a thousand horses to death. No matter where she went, that connection would follow her.

speaking of demons. She had an interesting task ahead of her. One she would need to impress the High Wizard with, and an interesting new position to do it from. She examined the little pin in the torchlight of the elevator, thinking of all the little freedoms it would grant her. By the time she reached the bottom and the elevator doors opened, she was grinning wickedly from ear to ear. Getting arrested was the best thing that had ever happened to her.