Kizzirark gestures the men under his guard to step back. He on the other way, steps forward, his axe still down but in hand.
"Do not worry, we are allies. My name is Kizzirark Devorst, guide of the Darklands and friend of the Chelish Empire. I was once a member of the clergy of Abadar in Egorian, before the Grand Earthquake of 4708... now I work for [I]Sir[I] Raquir, the Hellknight in charge of Deepholt."
He waited a couple seconds for his words to make effect before continuing.
"I'm currently on a mission of my own, leading these free men outside. I imagine you are bringing more prisoners to Deepholt..." Kizzirark gestures to the chained men. "...and perhaps it would be wise for us to exchange knowledge about the roads to our respective destinies. We were planning to rest here and you are welcomed as well..."
The guide waits for the man's answer before anything else.
The leading man comes closer, and Kizzirark can see his skin is soft and smooth, with a healthy amount of fat. This man missed few meals.
"Raquir is allowing free agents to transfer men? I will have t get the truth of this." he looks around, 'Do you have any proof that you are not simply leading a prison breakout?" He holds up a hand and suddenly his clothes flash into brightness. He has cast a light spell on them, which illuminates the whole chamber in dim light.
'I am Inquisitor Rawlness and I will have the truth out." his voice becomes louder and harder. The armed men behind him shake into formation, hands on weapons. The men behind Kizzirark begin to mutter again, angry voices.
Kizzirark sighed at the man's tone and presumption. He disliked him as soon as he laid his yes on him.
"Indeed Sir Raquir is allowing this expedition, even if the word 'transfer' is not the appropriate here. These are free men, rescued by myself from a derro encampment. They are being guided, just like a merchant who hires a guide to cross a forest is not being 'transferred' by the guide."
"I have no proof of my mission but I'm also sure there is nothing about me or the men I guide that indicates they are slaves... look at them, they are healthy, well fed and properly dressed. If you insist in inspecting me or them, you'll also find no mark of shackles in his limbs or lashes in his back. They are free men, much like I know you are and those chained men behind you are not, even if I do not require any proof of it."
"You present yourself as an Inquisitor and if I'm correct your duty is to indeed discover the truth, even among your own. I'm a servant of Abadar and the Master of the First Vault was never an enemy from the Prince of Darkness, even considered allies in matters of law and truth. From one servant of a lawful god to another one, I give you my word that I speak the truth."
When he sees the men behind Rawlness move in formation with their weapons in their hands, Kizzirark sheathes his axe. "There is no need for violence here. We are two civilized men, talking. The men I guide are not warriors and I'll not risk their lives in a meaningless fight. If you think we are liars and wish to escort we back to Deepholt, so be it, we'll come in peace for I wish to give you no reason to classify us as troublemakers, but the only thing that will happen from this action is that we'll lose time and Sir Raquir's plan for my work will be further delayed."
The inquisitor is considerably shorter then Kizzirark, and he is forced to peer up at the large half-orc. He doesn't look cowed however, his eyes dark and bright.
"You speak boldly, half-orc. Very much so for a man in service of a heretic god." he says harshly. 'Will you submit to a magical examination?" he says, his men not standing down.
'Talking of hiring guides, troublemakers or 'free men' is all well and good but let us be frank. You are in my power, half-orc, and I will find the truth."
Without waiting for Kizzirark's reply he casts Confess
'Have you told me the truth?" he asks, his voice guttural in the tunnel.
Kizzirark needs to contain himself from properly answering about his 'heretic' god and how the inquisitor's beloved country would be if not for Abadar's works. "A man who speaks the truth has nothing to hide. I will submit to your magical examination."
As the man talks about him being on his power, Kizzirark felt the urge of picking his axe again and separate this presumptuous fool's head from his shoulders but what good would it bring?
To the inquisitor's final question, he simply answers "Yes."
The man looks surprised at the lack of sickness or wounds on Kizzirark. The Inquisitor peers closely then shrugs, 'Very well. All this means is that Raquir has made a laspe of judgement. I will speak to him."
He raises his voice, "I have been sent to establish order in Deepholt. Rumors of a dangerous amount of leniency and flexibility have reached my ears. I will fix this."
His dark eyes fix on Zak, 'What is....that thing? Some sort of pet, half-orc?" His tone is scathing and Kizzrark feels Zak shrink a bit, taking a step back.
'We ran into some other creatures, up the tunnel. They sought to kill us, I suppose. But what are they compared to the prince of Darkness? We sent them running." the men, as if signaled, give a single hurrah.
The sound echoes down the tunnel.
'So it should be safe enough for you, when you continue."
Kizzirark nods to the inquisitor. "I'll leave to your judgement about the actions of Sir Raquir. I doubt that you are interested in my opinion so I'll keep it to myself."
As the man adresses Zak, the guide gives his friend an excuse look before answering. "This is Zak, a valuable companion and friend. He is a mongrelman as and such has an unique appearance. He is no pet or thing, but I imagine his existence is beyond the concern of the Prince of Darkness."
"I think, as a guide, I should warn you not to attack anything around here unless attacked first. Very few races and species are friendly down here and we already have plenty enemies but you seem a wise man so I'll leave it up to you to judge such freely given advice as worth or not. If you made our road safer, I need to thank you for the Master of the First Vault values a good and well maintained road for without a road there is no commerce and without commerce there is no progress and we'd still be living in caves." He bows before turning his back to the man, addressing those under his charge.
"Rest as much as you can for I intend for you to rest again by the light of the stars..."
For his part the inquisitor ignores Kizzirark, turning to his own troop. "Make camp." and the men (and prisoners) move into action. It is well-ordered enough. Men setting up crude tents, making fire rings, starting to cook food. A few prisoners manhandle a cask of beer, setting it up for Inqusitor Rawlness.
His tent is more of a silk palace then anything suit for the roughness of the Darklands. Banners of red and gold hang limply off of it, and the half-orc spots pillows and mattresses being hauled inside.
After awhile, the Inquisitor gestures for Kizzirark to come over. He has the condescending air of a gentlemen inviting of of his laborers to partake of a picnic lunch.
Kizzirark left his men behind with Zak and Moon to meet with the inquisitor. He wasn't happy and if he could choose he would have kept a safe distance away from the pompous man.
Kizzirark bows slightly to the man. "How may I help you, my lord?"
The man waves a hand, obviously enjoying the title, "Please, have some of my food. I can see you have bare rations. I can do much better."
Indeed, before him is a spread including roast duck, honeyed ale, sweet cakes and even plates of exotic looking rice. Rawlness obviously enjoys his food.
As Kizzirark eats the Inquisitor speaks. "I have been sent to make sure the faith is being kept in Deepholt. It will no longer be left to chance if the law and gods are upheld. I will be sure of it. I am telling you this as a warning. If you flee now, you need not face my wrath."
Kizzirark eats the man's food, enjoying it, even if the situation is uncomfortable.
"I'm not sure if you'll indeed find your faith being kept in Deepholt... I'm pretty sure the slaves are not worshipers of the Dark Prince and the town still have only a few residents. About the law it is a different matter. Sir Raquir is a follower of the strict law and I have not seen or heard of any situation where he acted in a different way..."
The guide almost smiles at the veiled threat. "As I mentioned before, I follow the Master of the First Vault and the laws of society is the most important pillar of my faith... if I interpret your words correctly, your wrath and that of your God will only be unleashed against those that break it, something that I never did nor intend to."
Kizzirark than starts to enumerate and describe many chelaxian laws, specially those that will be important to his inn, without revealing that he had built one.
The man's eyes harden a bit, the skin around them tightening, "You are clever, half-orc. But not clever enough. It is a matter of Chelish law that all slaves follow Asmosdues, willing or no. In slavery, they are there to suit the whims of contract"
He pauses, 'As for your Inn....much will change when I get to Deepholt. I gave you this warning out of mercy. I see you disregard it. I expected no better of a half-breed." he says sharply. He goes on, "They wanted to send others like yourself, you know. Free men to help settle Deepholt, as if Cheliax needed a free-thinking colony and not an obedient jail. Fools."
Kizzirark sighs at the man's insults. "Perhaps you are right, my lord, perhaps an obedient jail is indeed needed but I'm not sure Deepholt is a jail like you think... while someone is locked in a jail the prisoners will indeed obey, afraid of any torture or punishment for not doing so and they never think too much about it since there is not anything they can do to their masters and the masters need nothing but obedience from their slaves, but this isn't the case in Deepholt."
The guide lets his words sink before continuing. "Despite the sense of security within the stone walls of the cave where Deepholt is located, you should not forget you are in the Darklands, where almost anything will try, and succeed, to make you harm and where death is often seen as a blessing. If for some reason the more numerous races and creatures decide to attack Deepholt, it will be hard enough for you to defend it even with the help of the prisoners, and this mean most of them will die... but what if they think that they will die anyway and instead decide not to fight? The only change is that their masters will also share the same fate as them... but this is just the opinion of an ignorant half-breed that will probably survive in any of the former hypothesis..." Kizzirark bows once more and then gets up. "Is there another matter in which I should try to help, my lord?"
The Inquisitor holds up a clawed hand, and suddenly it is full of red light, hot and glowing. 'You forget one thing, guide. They will fear me more then the darkness." He closes the fist and the light goes out. "Remember my warning."
The night passes quietly, the two very different camps set up side by side. There is no talking, no joking from either encampment. No one crosses from one to the other, although Kizzirark hears a few men complain about the soft beds and fire where Rawlness sleeps.
In any case, 'morning' finally comes, and the Inquisitor quickly assembles his troops to march downward, into the depths of inky blackness.