Firoz pulled the first door open, Iliskra holding for two breaths before opening the second door. Had there been anyone lurking just inside they would have very likely pounced on Firoz making them vulnerable to an attack by Iliskra and Leon. But no one came and the coast seemed clear.

“Watch your step,” Firoz pointed down with the tip of his blade, “tripwire.”

A thin, shin-high wire reached the full length of the doorway, pulled tight. Firoz stepped carefully over the wire followed by his two new counterparts. The wire was firmly tied to the trigger of a crossbow that sat perched on a small rack of a sort which was placed neck-high on the right side of the doorway. Anyone who tripped the wire would get a bolt to the side of the throat or skull. Firoz reached to disarm the trap while Iliskra and Leon looked the room over. As Leon had suspected it was the master bedroom, nearly three times the size of the other rooms. Even in the squalor and dishevelment of the bandit hideout it was more than clear that this was the abode of a half-orc.

“Elthel was not jesting at all.” Iliskra wrinkled her nose.

The room had a strong smell of bestial sweat and a musky scent that made Iliskra’s stomach roll inside her. The large bed that sat directly across from the door had only a stained heavy mattress and dirty sheets spread upon it - and scattered around the bed on the floor were without mistake women’s undergarments. Several in fact. Empty whiskey and ale bottles were carelessly cast about the floor and on a large end table to the right of the bed sat a silver platter with a stripped bird carcass on it, the bones dark and riddled with buzzing flies. To the left of the bed a heavy wooden chest sat against the wall with a bulky padlock sealing it shut. Next to the chest was a small desk with an accompanying chair. The desk had various items atop it; rolls of grimy paper and a writing well and quill, a stray dagger, a cracked silver amulet, what looked to be a shark tooth necklace, and a rather out of place neatly written note.

“What have we here?” Iliskra raised a brow as she snatched the note from the desk top. The half-elf’s eyes darted back and forth, right to left as she read - her expression turning noticeably intrigued. There was a soft thump as Firoz dismounted the crossbow from the wall having just cut the wire, and as he turned to face them Iliskra quickly passed the note to Leon.

“Did you find something?” Firoz asked.

“Just this locked trunk,” Iliskra motioned over her shoulder, “and perhaps that wardrobe over there has something interesting in it.”

[hider=NOTE]

[i]Gunalar, 

You made the right choice in submitting yourself and your men to Shagarm. In this broken city of stubborn fools you have proven to be a shrewd leader. As part of the agreement of your integration Shagarm expects you to finish off the Ashaba Talons without delay. Those that have not relented have been slain and only a handful of loyalists remain with Zilaster, and with the loss of their guild hall and control of the river the Talons are breathing their last bloody breaths, so to speak. Zilaster is desperate and has run out of time and allies, something you might play to your advantage if you are hasty. Shagarm is aware of your history with the leader of the Talons and as an added gift for your loyalty you are left to put them down as you will. As already written though - do not delay. 

Bring the head of Zilaster to Shagarm and you will be given your reward in full and granted the post you were promised. Should you fail or overly complicate things your head will hang on Shagarm’s wall next to Zilaster’s. Good hunting.

- J[/i]
[/hider]