"A fort full of hostages really, but two that are the kin of the one that risked life and limb to come to warn us of the attack." Mum clarifies. She's (currently) a medium-height lovely young woman with dark back hair and an easy grin. Clad in heavy armor that moves like it is much lighter than it ought to be and has two short swords on her hips. "We'll need to either move quick or quiet or both if we are capable."
Dos is a large sized wolf, who keeps budging Mum with his large head and making odd noises that sound oddly like a human laugh.
Mum gives a mock put out sigh "Dos needs constant attention." she laughes as she wraps her arms around his huge head doing a combination hug and scratch around his neck.
After admiring Luca for a time, the kobold appears ready to move out. "So, time to free Fort Drelev, then?" he suggests.
The party packs up their things, preparing for the journey. Without much of a plan for how to approach, they start to move west on their horses. Before too long, it becomes apparent that horses are not well suited to this country, as the Hooktongue Slough is a trackless morass.
. Fort Drelev is on the west side. A map with markers is pinned in Discord.[/ooc]
The swamp gives way to much less waterlogged terrain in this region. Trees grow more frequently, providing plentiful shade along a fast-moving creek. Sunlight streams through the canopy of leaves overhead and birds chirp to one another somewhere high among the boughs.
The party is ambushed just outside of the borders of Gliocas by a number of evil pixies working with worgs of all creatures, and the lot of the enemies are dispatched with ease.
An unearthly chill hangs over this low finger-shaped marsh between two higher forested hills. Small eddies of water swirl around bubbling plumes of escaping swamp gas, and the otherwise ubiquitous swampsong of crickets, birds, and frogs falls silent in this eerie area.
It turns out that this is because the party is ambushed by four bog mummies. They seem to desperately want to infect the everyone with a particularly dangerous form of mummy rot, and are obviously devoted to Urgathoa in their insanity.
The deep, murky waters of Lake Hooktongue make up the largest body of water in the Stolen Lands and serve as the heart of Hooktongue Slough. Countless minor rivers and streams wind through the swamp into this lake, the surface of which is usually rather calm and serene. The lake itself is quite deep, reaching a depth of 900 feet in several places. Yet the lake has a sinister reputation, for many believe it to be the lair of an ancient water orm named Hooktongue— the same creature that gives its name to both the lake and the surrounding swampland. Said to resemble an immense black snake with jaws strong enough to carry a bear and a back decorated with razor-sharp fins, Hooktongue hasn’t been spotted in the lake for nearly a decade.
Nothing rises from the deep, though, and the party makes their way west along the coast of the lake, until they spy what appears to be a boggard village.
The boggards spy certain folks in the party (those who don't stealth much) and shoot blowguns from afar with some skill. It may be possible to get around the village, either by swimming or traveling around, but there's no guarantee that this will be successful.
The party does remember that the boggards are one of the biggest impediments to trade in this part of the river kingdoms, and they constantly seek to dominate and slaughter all other humanoids in the area.
After some preparation, the party moves in to try the route of 'diplomacy' and their rhetorical gifts get an audience with Sepoko, a boggard cleric and the chief. He seems unstable, and mutters to himself about the 'legless lady", as if he's under some magical compulsion, which Vincent identifies. He commands his wardens to attack, but the charm is dispelled, and though the boggard is normally violent and dangerous, he's grateful to the party. He tasks everyone to kill the spirit naga that charmed him...
An immense mound of fallen trees and logs lie in a jagged line here, forming a scar of decaying plant matter created over the course of decades by various river currents. Nearly 500 feet long and 40 feet high, this swath is known locally as the Swamp Scar. The mound of vegetation is riddled with burrows and nooks, and it is within these hollows
that the Scar’s dangerous denizen dwells.
This turns out to be a somewhat powerful spirit naga sorcerer, who is able to charm Sootscale, who turns against the party briefly before the naga is dispatched. Her other spells and abilities do substantial damage to everyone in the party, and the fight is the most challenging so far. After defeating her, she has a headband of mental prowess (wis +2/Cha +2)
In his thanks, the boggard chief moves into the treasure room and gives the party 20 taldan-stamped gold ingots worth 250 gp each. He then promises that he will control the boggards in the region and avoid all river raids in the future, but it's obvious he wants the PCs gone, especially since they killed a few wardens and other boggards on the way in.
The party asks also for the captive bog strider to be left free from their imprisonment, and though the boggards are reluctant, the threat of violence forces their hand, and Tok-Tekt moves off, noting that if the party meets at his home at Tok-Nikrat his family may have some useful information, though Bog-Striders don't generally have any money.
Looping southwest around the lake, the party moves past the boggard village. A rocky cave marks a steep hillside by the swamp’s shore, nearly hidden by the high rushes and cattails screening it from view. This cave is the den of a mated pair of chuuls. One of the creatures hides within the cave to the north, while the other lurks in the water to the south, ready to ambush and surround any creatures venturing near their home. At night, they both reside in the cave, the walls of which are decorated with crude but effective paintings of chuuls eating humans, created from the smeared leavings of their victims’ blood.
They try to ambush the party to devour them, but are dispatched with some ease, and there are some items they've collected over time. These items currently include a masterwork quarterstaff shod with silver at either end and decorated with carvings of predatory birds, worth 900 gp, a wide
leather belt of mighty constitution +2, a silver ring of jumping, a coral holy symbol of Gozreh worth 250 gp, a stylized mithral brooch in the shape of a gilded leaf worth 500 gp, and an uncompleted, leather-bound spellbook in a waterproof case containing all 0-level spells, as well as control water, fabricate, move earth, stone shape, and transmute mud to rock.
The party is less than two hours walk from the entrance to Fort Drelev.
"I'm here to aid you all so I'll follow your lead. Do we meet inside to plan our next moves? I'll fly in as a bird undetected and keep an eye on where you all meet. Give me a signal and I'll come to you." Tikroch awaits his new battle buddies discussions before changing form.
Mum has a merry time defeating evil pixies, crushing bog mummies, and then trouncing frogmen before switching over to talking to them through odd croaks. Once the naga takes control of Sootscale, all merriment drops from her pretty face. The swordswoman becomes deadly fury incarnate, ignoring her own safety until the snake is in fourteen pieces and the governor is safe once again.
Once they are nearing the fort, she slips from her trusty steed's back, ruffling his ears. "A good plan, Tikroch. I have some innate magic gifted to me by means I won't talk about to keep ears from burning. The magic though will keep me disguised while we scout. Donovan, you are safe as you are, I assume?" she asks, assuming since he has not been tied to the Lady Soph for long, her enemies would not be on the lookout for him. "Dos, unfortunately, you are too amazingly cuddly for the locals to keep their eyes off you. We might have to use some magic on you to turn you into something... like a little boy maybe. Leaving, you oh great governor of the Sootscales. I think you might be a little too known. Any ideas about how to hide?"
As the group is ambushed by evil evil pixies and their warg allies, Tikroch and Luca launch into combat with amusement not seen before in the short time they've been with the group. When the fey try to use their usual tricks to go invisible, Luca sniffs them out almost immediately and brings one down a bloody mess. The group also gets to see Tikroch's favorite form as a large, dual horned rhino.
When fighting breaks out here, Tikroch is much more reserved. Rather than the rhino shape he used before, Tikroch turns into a giant octopus to try to hinder their foes rather than kill them outright.
Mum will think for a few moments, one hand rubbing her chin while her other hand rest on her wide hip. "Okay, Dos come with me. They rest of you keep watch. Please." the please comes as an after thought almost.
Away from the rest of the group, Chrysa pulls out a kit she rarely uses. "Let's see if we can do this the mundane way." she asks Vincent to shift as she mixes a past and a hair dye. "Dark and brooding or a sunkened eyed red head?"
Donovan proves to be an able combatant on the road; indeed, his incredible armor is completely impervious to minor harms like blowdarts, and with his divine magic he is able to both heal the wounds that the team suffers and bolster his own crusading combat abilities.
Though he is a warrior-priest, he also turns out to be quite amenable to diplomatic solutions, and leaves such opportunities to the better talkers in the group.
~~~~~~~~~~
"I am not exactly skilled in stealth or disguise," says Donovan, "but if we need to prepare for battle, well, I am well-suited to the task. If you have other means for me to engage in subterfuge such as invisibility, I will of course assist the team with whatever plan seems most likely to succeed without harm to the hostages."
Mum smiles sweetly at the knight "Be the strong silent type, grunt here and there and glare. That will be enough."
One night as the group settles into camp Vincent, who has resumed his true form, strolls over to where Donovan sits by the fire, doing the religious things that all paladins seem to obsess over.
"So," The vampire says with a grin. "You're a paladin and I'm a vampire. No doubt you have problems with that. Shall we talk about them now, or would you like to try fighting me first and then listen once your pride is exhausted?"
---------------------------
"I'm a teenager, shouldn't I always be grumpy and brooding?" Vincent asks with a smile before submitting to Chrysa's ministrations. "And the story is what? I'm a surly but brilliant young wizard and you tolerate my eccentricities for the sake of my magic? Not too far from the truth I suppose."
Mum smiles a very Chrysa smile. "Shush, a particular someone who will not be named that may or may not be in another life adores her nephew, never tolerates. But yes, that is the only story I can come up with to explain all of the oddities in our group. Adventurers hunting for loot." Mum sighs, annoyed that the story is so thin but also believable. "If only we had a wheelbarrow..."
"And I'm sure her nephew feels the same way." Vincent replies, smiling as much as he can while Mum continues to apply makeup to his unnaturally smooth skin. "Don't worry about the story, adventuring parties are almost always bizarre beyond all reason and no-one blinks an eye at them."
He pauses and then asks, sounding much more like the boy he appears to be, "Why would we need a wheelbarrow?"
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One night as the group settles into camp Vincent, who has resumed his true form, strolls over to where Donovan sits by the fire, doing the religious things that all paladins seem to obsess over.
"So," The vampire says with a grin. "You're a paladin and I'm a vampire. No doubt you have problems with that. Shall we talk about them now, or would you like to try fighting me first and then listen once your pride is exhausted?"
---------------------------
"I'm a teenager, shouldn't I always be grumpy and brooding?" Vincent asks with a smile before submitting to Chrysa's ministrations. "And the story is what? I'm a surly but brilliant young wizard and you tolerate my eccentricities for the sake of my magic? Not too far from the truth I suppose."
Donovan sighs and says flatly, "You've already proceeded from an incorrect assumption: I'm not a paladin. So if you're testing the boundaries of what makes me annoyed, you missed the mark."
"What I am," he continues as he works on organizing his healer's satchel, "is a Mendevian crusader. Which means that I stood against pit-spawned demons whose very existence was predicated on causing suffering for people for no other reason than schadenfreude. One of the key lessons taken away from this—for those who survive it and manage to come to terms with the atrocities that we see—is that 'person' is a very broad term. Demons are existentially bad, but people? Highly variable. People make choices. They make mistakes. They do things because of fear, or hope, or tradition, or acculturation, or love, or anger. And that means that any person can make good choices, or bad choices. They can make hurtful choices, or helpful choices. It doesn't matter whether they are an elf, or a gnoll, or a lizardfolk, or a vampire. They have the capacity to choose, for weal or for woe. It's harder for some than for others. But one cannot simply assume that a person is a 'bad person' because of the circumstances of their birth... or death."
"I wasn't just a soldier and a priest, you see," he says as he flips the satchel closed. "I am also an historian and a philosopher. Because defeating existential evil, like the demons of the Worldwound, is not just about hacking up corporeal shapes imbued with evil spirits. It is about comprehending and countering the philosophical underpinnings of evil acts... such as prejudice and bigotry."
~~~~~~~~~~
Donovan says to Mum, "It may be a thin story, but it's a common one. I can stow my tabard; wearing a baron's ransom of adamantine armor clearly marks me as some kind of 'experienced adventurer'."
"Don't have a holocaust cloak, though, so a wheelbarrow may not help."
Mum opened her mouth to respond to Vincent, about all the potential plans that would open up with just a wheelbarrow, but she shuts it and nods since Donovan made an excellent point. "And so dreams of contingencies are dashed on the shores of despair." Mum sighs expansively.
Donovan sighs and says flatly, "You've already proceeded from an incorrect assumption: I'm not a paladin. So if you're testing the boundaries of what makes me annoyed, you missed the mark."
"What I am," he continues as he works on organizing his healer's satchel, "is a Mendevian crusader. Which means that I stood against pit-spawned demons whose very existence was predicated on causing suffering for people for no other reason than schadenfreude. One of the key lessons taken away from this—for those who survive it and manage to come to terms with the atrocities that we see—is that 'person' is a very broad term. Demons are existentially bad, but people? Highly variable."
"Then I owe you an apology, Donovan of Restov." Vincent says with a frown. "I misjudged you and I am sorry. I am old enough to know better, regardless of previous experience." He offers the cleric a hand. "I won't say 'friends' but I trust we can at least work together amicably."
Donovan gratefully accepts Vincent's hand and says, "We have mutual interests and goals, and that is the basis of diplomatic cooperation. We might argue over methods from time to time, but we share the same road."
Sootscale is lucky enough to find a Cap of Human Guise amongst the magic items in Tatzlford, and takes on the appearance of a disheveled gnome with bright blue hair. "Sootscale very sad to be hiding Draconic might and glory! But will do so for greater good. Gnome name will be 'Tinker'. What do you think?"
Donovan chuckles and says to Sootscale, "I think that's inspired. Leaning into stereotypes is a good way to make your countenance forgettable to people, so you should have no trouble fitting in."
Tikroch nods sagely at the choice of identity. "Tinker... quite the typical name for a gnome I think. That should get you in well enough. Our plan is settled then? I'll meet you all on the inside as a sparrow. While I'm flying I'll try to get a count of what guards might be up on the walls."
After deciding on a course of action, the party (sans Tikroch) approaches from the west along a road of middling quality, passing few people along the way. As the party approaches all notice that the town has a high but unfinished palisade of wood around a central area, with a keep of stone to the north on a hill, only easily approached from the east, within the town. The town itself has an impressive number of buildings, but some seem partially unfinished. A tall watchtower overlooks everything from the northwest, at the gap in the wall. The southeast had a well-developed set of docks, and it seems a few fisher-folk and traders are moored there at the moment.
Two guards near the western gate stop the party as they approach. Their small, hard eyes and somewhat disheveled appearance don’t diminish their competence with weapons. They’re armed with good quality longswords and breastplates, which are sheathed at their sides.
One is chewing something, like a root or twig, and spits a chunk out to the side as the party approaches. The other holds up a hand, ”oy, what’re you lot doing here? Identify yourselves.”
Tinker the blue-haired gnome, formerly known as Sootscale, considers the construction of the palisade, and whether its construction was being done well or poorly, applying his own extensive knowledge of construction. He imagined the work was being done hastily in response to their own sudden attack on Gliocas.
Sootscale looks toward the high watchtower as the party approaches the Western gate, trying to gauge how one might approach that tower without being seen, if that was one's objective. He otherwise remains silent, preferring to avoid speaking if at all possible, given his accent. If it came to it, Sootscale does in fact know how to speak Gnome.
" We're here for a tavern. A warm meal, lots of pints of anything strong, and maybe if we are lucky a bed. Got any recommendations, we'll let them know you sent us." Mum is all weary smiles and light teasing. Chatting away while her group stands bone tired.
Eventually she is reminded she hasn't answered the question of who they are. "The produce of poor life choices, full of dreams of adventure and riches, instead we wander all ruins, nearly getting killed by almost everything for little more than drinking money. We're the Six Blades. Ever hear of us, no didn't think you had. Why six when there is only five, well that is a story... she retired, the b@~++. End of story "
Plans having been made, Tikroch jumps a bit and transforms into a small and inconspicuous bird to perch on a nearby branch. He sees the group engage with the gate guards and flies into the air to begin his scouting. Figuring he has some time before the guards let them through, he begins his lap of the fort, getting a good general picture of the state of things, making mental notes of the important bits to relay to the group once re-united.
Vincent, adorned with make-up to weather his perfect skin and provide just a shadow of 'facial hair' leans on his staff and rolls his eyes theatrically as Mum dives into her story.
"Whatever you do don't let her start on another story." He says to the guards in a clearly-meant-to-be-heard undertone. "Get her going and she won't shut up, specially about Six. We don't talk about her because of how cross she gets."
"I keep saying we should just backfill the vacancy, but someone would rather just complain about it," Donovan's voice rings out hollowly through his great helm.
The one that greeted them nods, "eh... Fort Drelev is open for trade, but the inn is kind of a s~*!hole, so uh, don't expect much." The other laughs, adding, "right, and mind your p's and q's, if you gots business here it's fine but move on when it's concluded and spend the coin freely. The guards, especially appreciate a tip as the holiday season approaches." He grins and extends a hand.
Mum grumbled, like any down-on-their-luck adventurer would, but a grumble of one that knew how the system worked. She fished out forty gold (a flipping reaming fortune, she cursed) but dumped it in the guard's extended hand.
The guard laughs, shrugging, and chews on his stick. The other one inclines his head, adding, ”generosity is as generousity does. Keep away from the patrols unless you want to give more tips.” He points over his shoulder vaguely at the form of one of the giant heads moving west, away from the entrance. ”We’re civilized, you know. Professional. The giants … well… “ He adds nothing else, as if nothing else need be said, but the pair move out of the way to grant entry.
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Tinker the blue smurf gnome grumbles unintelligibly in annoyance as Chrysa hands over the bribe for entering. Definitely a downside to being a band of adventurers. He follows along as the party wanders through the town, trying to get their bearings.
It doesn't take long to survey the town from the sky and Tikroch gets back to the group just as they're getting through the checkpoint. He lands on a signpost nearby and watches as they wander the streets. When patrols get close he divebombs thee group to get their attention and guides them around the guards and their giant companions.
1. Drelev Keep: This large stone and wood structure is the home of Baron Drelev.
2. Bellweather’s Soup n’ Kettle: This tavern and eatery is one of the only busy establishments in town. People move in and out with relative frequency.
3. The Velvet Corner: This appears to be Fort Drelev’s gambling hall and brothel. The sound of rowdiness can be heard, even in the middle of the day.
4. Iron Steeple Inn: Once Fort Drelev’s largest inn, the windows are dark and the door is boarded up. This building is currently empty.
5. The Rat’s Shrine: Once a small stone shrine dedicated to Hanspur, the god of rivers and river travel, this shrine now stands abandoned.
6. Watchtower (not shown on the map, but it’s just northwest): this is the watchtower mentioned and spotted earlier, next to the unfinished walls. There are many guards here.
7. Sutton’s Stables & Smithy: It looks like the stables part of the name is defunct. The person who is likely Gask Sutton is toiling at armor and weaponsmithing, with simple but good quality weapons being turned out at a relatively fast rate (to anyone with the judgement to know such things).
8. Temple of Erastil: This large stone building is only a shell—the interior is incomplete and empty.
"To the brothel, I think. Cause even if the food is horrid, the ambiance will make up for it." Mum says, in practical amusement.
"It's about time I had a woman again." Vincent says, doing his best to channel the arrogance of a teenaged wizard. It's not too hard, he is better than any teenaged wizard afterall.
"Pbbbt," says Tinker, blowing a raspberry. "Nobody that Tinker would be interested in at this brothel." Or so he assumed. Not to mention it would be hard to keep the disguise up anyway. "Soup sounds a lot better!" The disguised kobold follows along anyway as they head off to the brothel.
The party moves along, avoiding the patrols, and pushes open the door to the Velvet Corner. Surprisingly, the building seems cheery and tidy. A few tables of cards are being hosted by attractive women and men that are dealing, and flirting with the customers. No guards seem to be around to guard the joint, but the mercenary guards seem to be trying to be on their best behavior. The burly minotaur bartender seems keen to how inebriated the patrons are, and one glance tells them they’re done. There’s stations for dice, a roulette ball, and marks up on the wall on a chalked board showing odds of something called “Pig Catching” and various names associated with it. How the data is gathered to set the odds and learn of the winners, it isn’t clear.
Overseeing the affair from a balcony above is a handsome woman with dark skin in a form-fitting outfit. She seems to have a whip at her side, and to be armed with a number of daggers. Notably, she has a small book in her hand with a pencil, and seems to be taking notes about the various goings-on. Behind her are a few hallways that seem to lead further into the large building.
Suddenly, one of the mercenaries seems to get mad at something a dealer said or did. The woman with the cards holds up her hands defensively, nervous, and it seems like a balloon has popped and much air has been let out of the room. Other mercenaries and guards put their hands on their weapons, but a short Q*click* from the woman on the balcony sets the dealer to remember something, who steps back but smiles sweetly, and moves over to the upset mercenary, who seems taken aback. The dealer pouts a moment then leans over and whispers something to him, and he nods dumbly. She beckons him to follow, and they retire up the stairs
The women on the balcony gestures, and the situation at the table is righted, when one of the servers puts down his tasks and takes the cards. In the process, the balcony woman glances at the motley crew assembled in the doorway, and blinks twice. The cheery atmosphere comes back a moment later, and the murmur of enjoyment seems to drown the memory of the tension completely.
A server approaches the party, as if to ask to seat them, but the balcony woman descends and intercepts the man, laying her hand on his arm. He bows and departs to other tasks. She looks the group up and down, and raises an eyebrow particularly at Vincent, ”I would welcome you to the Velvet Glove - but I don’t think we have anything here for your young friend.” She looks at the others and nods, ”if the rest of you wish to stay, we have many games of chance, libations, and other ways for a weary traveler to find solace.”
"Because you don't think I'm capable or you're worried about how easily I'll win your games of 'chance'?" Vincent replies with heavy sarcasm. "Don't worry, I can pay for my own drinks." He holds out his hand with a certain jade ring in the center. "My friend Kis was sure that there would be no problems with me being here." He adds, just to make sure.
She blinks at Vincent’s retort, then answers more slowly, ”no need to take offense, young master, but you may be mistaken whomever you’ve spoken to in the past - the Velvet Glove does not serve children, no matter how well they speak.” There is no malice in her voice, but she adds, ”if you and your friends wish to speak about other matters, it would be best if we do so elsewhere, yes?” She tilts her head.
As the group enters the establishment, Tkroch swoops in the open door to land up high where he won't be obvious. Hearing the talk of speaking "elsewhere" he figures that would be a good place to transform back to his normal form.
The woman is startled as the small bird flies in. She raises her whip and in a low voice asks, ”should I assume it is not a coincidence that a bird has flown into my establishment? As it stands, more and more odd events keep happening, and it will not be long before someone else notices.” She looks at the bird as if she’s ready to try and smack it to the ground shortly.
The bird watches the woman with the whip, ready to dodge a blow that might come. As she asks about a coincidence the bird nods its head in the affirmative, choosing silence.
Mum happens to have a bird on her shoulder already (her own familiar, often forgotten about), so a second bird is not SO out of place. "I attract them it seems. Weird thing that happened some time of another, that's all. You said you might want to have a chat, maybe about something a premier adventuring group might be perfect for?" since they seem to still in the open area, Mum is leaning into the odd bunch of adventures.
She nods, ”please follow me, then.” She leads the party to a small office near the kitchen, and when everyone, including the birds, has entered, and the door is closed she says, very quietly, ”you’re lucky that the mercenaries are all distracted. The only reason I didn’t ask you to leave is that you said ‘Kis’. I can guess who that is, it seemed obvious that adventurers would have spoken to her. Just to confirm, what was her actual name - and why did she flee this godsforsaken town?” She folds her arms, and waits patiently for a response.
"Kisandra" Mum answers simply "And they have her sister and father as hostages, which seems to have upset her."
She exhales, and smiles, and she lowers her hands, ”this is - good. Good. You’re very well armed, I can tell. Well, I know a good amount about Fort Drelev…” and she reiterates what Kisandra has spoken about previously. ”As for how you can deal with the problems of this town - there’s two. The town is in despair, and Drelev and his cronies have to die. As background, since whatever happened with the barbarians, the mercenaries have gotten meaner. And he and the convoy went off and came back and he got meaner, really angry. It’s been all I can do to keep the soldiers from taking it out on my staff.” She looks pained, as if remembering something. ”I know what happens to people who stand up to him. The priest and priestesses of Erastil, they disappeared…” She holds out her hands, ”not that we had a relationship, but… I did not wish for any other clergy to die. Even if they were fussy and difficult. They were taken up to the castle and have never come back. I fear the worst.”
”On top of that, the rumor is that if something happens to him, they’ve got orders to flatten every building and kill every citizen” She opens her hands, ”I want him to get what’s coming to him, desperately, but not if they kill all my customers, or me. I could not face a giant.”
She shakes her head, ”so, if one of you was in disguise - my guess is the rest of you are - excepting knight man.” She inclines her head, ”and I’m guessing he finds subterfuge uncomfortable. So you may need to just sneak into the place, instead of trying to lie to get your way in.”
She walks behind her desk, ”I know of a secret entrance into the keep, if you’d like to use it. He has a powerful wizard in his pocket, so there may be a few wards against teleportation in place - I do not know exactly. I’ll tell you where it is if you promise you’ll try to keep the us safe, and I will tell you where it is, hide you while you’re in town, and even mend your wounds, such as is in my power to do. I think if the giants are dead, that would be enough to make us mostly safe… a good start. Is that in your power to do?”
"Hm, interesting. Very, interesting!". "Tinker" the blue-haired gnome quietly joins the party in the small office and listens to all that the madam has to say.
"Lucky for you, Drelev has made powerful enemies. Where is secret entrance, and who knows about it? Does Drelev? Anyone have plans for the keep? And who is the powerful wizard?"
"No offense taken. It's not my strength."