"But if you remove the law's protection for certain classes of people then where does it end?" Pril answers back. "Who gets to decide who gets the benefit? Today we decide that necromancers and Norgorberites shouldn't have the protection. Tomorrow someone decides that gnomes don't deserve that protection. The day after that, elves." She shakes her head and turns to look out the window. "The law has to protect everyone or it protects no one."
She takes a deep breath and looks back up at the ranger.
"Thank you for waiting," she says softly. "It means a lot to me."
Allandír looks at Pril as though he can't quite decide whether she is joking or not. "I did not, ah, choose, to be an elf (although I am glad to be one) - any more than you chose to be a gnome. A necromancer made a choice to study and practice a form of magic that is, ah, almost universally regarded as vile. A slaver made a choice to traffic in the purchase and sale of other humanoids. The greenskins I fought in the Goblinblood Wars didn't choose to be greenskins - but they did choose to invade, pillage, murder, torture and rape largely helpless peasants - just as those goblins in the fort chose to capture, imprison and starve a wild animal."
He takes a deep breath and does his best to keep his voice level. "If you cannot see the difference, I cannot explain it to you."
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"Yes, but ..." Pril begins, but then trails off with a sigh. A part of her wants to continue the discussion, but another part of her seems to understand that they both hold positions that won't be persuaded away.
Memories of similar discussions, held under the blankets on cold mornings, embraced in warm arms, bring her feelings to the surface again and she moves to stand in the corner of the bookstore away from the others.
One hand reaches up to brush at her eyes in annoyance.
"Thank you, Cardinal," she says when the man returns with a Council Representative. When it's explained that they have the authority to search the store, the gnome moves to the locked door.
"Gull Peeper? Would you be so kind?" she asks, gesturing at the portal.
The staff area is a small research room that is in complete disarray. A thorough search uncovers a note scribbled in a rushed hand. "Aha! Entrance to Alseta's Ring--Guardian's Way."
Allandir recognizes Guardian’s Way is the name of a long-abandoned military outpost that was used in the Goblinblood Wars. It is located about 6 miles northwest of town in a wooded enclave. The outpost consists of three treetop observation platforms in addition to a single ground-level building, all located in a clearing in a heavily wooded area.
Gull Pepper picks the lock on the other door which leads to an untidy living space. The bed is unmade, a modest chest of drawers has been ransacked, the wardrobe is missing about half its contents, and a small desk in the corner is covered with miscellaneous personal effects such as archivist’s gloves, dented reading glasses, and several alarmingly large balls of lint.
Next to the disheveled bed is a small nightstand, on which lies a book titled Breachill, Outpost of Liberty and several loose leaves of paper. The book presents a perfectly sanitized version of the city's history. The leaves of paper, however, are Voz’s research into the true history of the town, peppered with her gloating and darkly gleeful commentary. Her notes on this material include, “Ha! Rich! Idiot humans trusting that lying wizard,” and “The fools put up a statue of that duplicitous charlatan— hilarious!” It will take some time to read through it all.
You also find a stash of scrolls hidden behind the remaining clothes in the wardrobe. The scrolls are acid arrow, false life, obscuring mist, and touch of idiocy.
Pril looks through the papers and books, her frown deepening as she continues. When Allandír points out the location of 'Guardian's Way', she nods.
"That's where she's gone," she says simply. "We should meet her there."
And then an act of serendipity saved their lives. Lord Lamond Breachton, a wandering adventurer, scholar, and wizard, was returning from a lucrative trading trip to Druma when he stumbled upon the amnesiacs’ meager outpost. Even with his powerful magic, kindly Lord Breachton couldn’t solve the mystery of the humans’ origins or restore their missing memories. He took pity upon the villagers, and spent much of his recently acquired wealth on building proper shelters along the banks of what became known as Breach Creek. Further, Breachton helped the amnesiacs acquire food and establish farms, brought in experts to teach them trades, and used his magic and know-how to aid their day-to-day affairs while the townspeople became self-sufficient. In less than a year, the outpost was thriving, and the leaders of the burgeoning hamlet named their settlement Breachton’s Hill. This name was soon shortened to Breachill.
Despite his monumental place in the town’s history, very little is known about Lamond Breachton himself. The wizard’s origins are a mystery, and details of his life before arriving in town are conspicuously missing from the extensive local texts written about the town’s founding. The townspeople know only that Breachton had distinctive, golden-colored eyes, the rich voice of an angel, and flowing white hair that reached past the magnificent robes he always wore. Curiously, the wizard made it clear to those early town pioneers that he was indeed a human, as opposed to an aasimar or other celestial-touched being. History books describe Breachton’s demeanor as exceedingly paternal; he treated each of the town’s pioneers as wayward children regardless of an individual’s actual ages. His kindness and willingness to expend his own resources to help the outpost seemed without limit, however—he made the humans’ survival and well- being his entire focus for an entire year. Then one day, as quickly as he had arrived, Breachton disappeared. The townspeople never heard from him again, but they understood the wanderer’s need to move on. As a final tribute to the wizard, the townspeople erected a statue of him that stands in the center of town to this day.
Most everyone in Breachill fully believes in their town’s saccharine origin as the beneficiary of the kind and selfess wizard Lamond Breachton. But according to Voz, the truth, like so much of sanitized history, is far darker. Voz believes Lord Breachton was not a big-hearted philanthropist. Her research suggests he was nothing more than an egomaniacal wizard who was trying to build a society of servants to appease his needs, and when he failed, he wiped the townsfolk’s memories before helping them establish Breachill. Her notes here include commentary like, “Fool should have just left them to die—guilt gets you nothing!” The research also indicates that Voz has hit nothing but dead ends in trying to find out what happened to Lamond Breachton after he left the area—she suspects he is long dead, though.
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Seeing his remarks deflating Pril, Allandír gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "No, you aren't wrong. I have seen what happens when law breaks down entirely and I have no wish to revisit that. But I do get, ah, frustrated when those who do evil are able to hide behind the law."
He listens as the gnome and the Cardinal review the notes. "I am familiar with Guardian’s Way. It is a long-abandoned military outpost that was used in the Goblinblood Wars. It is located about 6 miles northwest of town. If memory serves, it consists of three treetop observation platforms in addition to a single ground-level building, all located in a clearing in a heavily wooded area."
He frowns. "If the place is held against us, it may be quite a fight to take it. It depends on what allies she has."
Pril shrugs, slightly discomfited by Voz's theories. "The only way to find that out is to go there and look."
She turns to the Council Representative.
"Would you say that what we've found here presents us with further evidence against this woman?" she asks. "If so, then we'd like to commandeer these scrolls to be used in our efforts to discover what evils she's up to out at Guardian's Way."
The clerk nods. "Of course. I will convey your findings to Councilor Gardinia." Once you have finished searching through the bookstore, the clerk takes his leave.
"So where did you say this place was?" Pril asks Allandír with a smile as if she's just proved something.
Once you are ready, Allandir leads the way into the woods northwest of Breachill. You travel for a few hours before the thick forest gives way to a meadow, where three sturdy outposts have been built in the trees. A fourth building stands on the ground in the meadow’s center. Behind it, a vine-covered rocky cliff rises up fifty feet to a barren bluff above.
Pril will invite Gull Peeper (if they're willing) to join her on a scouting mission to see if they can determine what defenders are occupying the buildings.
She sniffs the air inquisitively as they move through the underbrush.
Pril and Gull Peeper sneak around the edge of the clearing to scour the area. The lower portion of the central, two-tier wooden platform is supported twenty feet off the ground by the trunk and branches of three large trees. A pair of rope ladders provides access to the platform’s lower tier, while another rope ladder provides access to the upper one, ten feet above. The branches of the central tree hang down low, obscuring the contents of both platforms. Peering closely, Pril notices three half-orcs in studded leather concealed among the branches. They have longbows and scan the woods below, but they do not notice the gnome or the goblin.
Four smaller trees support each of the other two wooden platform ten feet off the ground. A rope ladder hangs from the side of each one to the ground below, and a single half-orc archer mans each platform.
The old log cabin in the center of the clearing has a gently sloped shingled roof and a single door set in its western face. There are no windows in the walls, which are crusted with patches of moss. Pril notices narrow gaps at eye level between the wall’s logs thanwould function perfectly as peepholes through which anyone inside could keep an eye on the surroundings. She can also smell a creature inside that smells similar to her goblin companion.
Pril taps Gull Peeper on the arm and gestures back towards the rest of the group. They make their way quietly through the bushes back.
Once they reach Allandír and the others, the gnomes wastes no time before updating them on the composition and location of the defenders.
"Do you think you take out the singles in the watchtowers without them making any noise?" she asks the elf.
The tall elf has not been idle with his leisure time. When he appears the next morning, the longbow he acquired from the ooze has been polished and decorated: a motif of leaves and trailing vines is carved into the wood, together with a single word in fine, cursive Elven script: Certiorari.
He considers Pril's question carefully, before shaking his head. "Even if I could guarantee a straight kill-shot, the target would most likely fall to the ground. And that would probably draw attention."
He gives the gnome an indulgent smile. "It is best not to run tactical ploys that depend on things going perfectly. In my experience, more things go wrong in battle than go right."
"Does that say 'justice'? 'Fairness'?" Pril asks regarding the carving on Allandír's bow. "The root word in sylvan is 'certios' which translates to the idea of 'balance'."
The gnome frowns.
"I wonder if we should wait until night-fall? Maybe they'll be less alert then?"
Allandír gives a slightly grimacing smile. "I fear the translation would, ah, disappoint you. You will just have to take my word for it that it's an amusing play on words."
Hastily moving on, he turns the conversation back to the impending fight. "I would suggest we return to town to acquire some alchemist's fire. In my experience, people who are on fire are considerably less interested in trying to shoot you."
"That might be effective. However, it might just stir up the entire ant nest at once and that might be more than we can handle. I count five armed half-orcs visible and at least one more person in the building. And we don't have our friendly armiger to draw their attention. So it's all me and Nell."
She looks over the compound again.
"I'd rather wait until nightfall and see if they're still as watchful then."
You wait in the woods until nightfall, observing the outpost. Your patience is rewarded as you see almost all of the sentries turn in for the night, settling into bedrolls and quickly falling asleep. Only one half-orc remains on guard, keeping watch from the central platform.
Ervan laments the fact he isn't within range to make use of his newly finished spell of elemental summoning. Where before the incantation was unreliable, at best, the wizard is sure he can now summon forth a mephit and have it stay under his command for up to a whole minute. "If only we could get close enough that I could bark commands at my elemental minion ... "
Instead, he's left with no other option than to have his companions suggest what to do next. All his spells are crude tools, and any application of brute force will surely ruin the element of surprise.
"I might be able to sneak in and take him down before he has a chance to raise the alarm," Pril offers. "I can be kinda sneaky when I have to."
She looks around at the others. "Anyone else want to go with me?" she asks.
Allandír shakes his head. "I can move silently enough, but my arrows can follow you in from back here - and they're even stealthier than I am."
He will cover the gnome as she moves in, ready to fire as needed.
Gull Peeper and Pril quietly sneak up to the central platform, shimmying up the rope ladder. The half-orc sentry doesn't notice either the gnome or the goblin...
Gull Peeper suddenly lunges forward, leaping on the half-orc! Their teeth tear at her throat as they drive their dagger into her chest. She gurgles quietly and crumples to the floor, blood pouring from her fatal wounds.
It's happened so quickly that the other half-orcs are still asleep!
Pril's eyes go wide as Gull Peeper dispatches the guard before she even gets a chance to take her correct form.
"Well, that wasn't so hard, was it?" she says after she takes a moment to catch her breath. She looks over the edge of the platform and waves at the others, knowing that the elf, at least, can see her.
Back down the ladder they both climb.
"So, shall we see who's asleep and who's awake?" she asks. A soft giggle follows. "We already know who's been naughty," she can't help but add.
Gull Peeper and Pril quietly lead the rest of the group into the outpost. The gnome and goblin sneak back up the central platform to gag and tie up the two sleeping half-orcs there, restraining them before they can react.
As they are doing so, though, the door to the cabin bursts open as a lanky hobgoblin emerges, wielding a rapier and a dagger. "Awaken, Bloody Blades! We are under attack!" she shrieks. The sentries on the north and south watchtowers begin to stir...
It is, indeed, all over before Allandír can blink; the tall elf is about to return the arrow to his quiver and move forward to join the gnome and goblin when the hobgoblin raises the alarm.
He frowns in annoyance and works on silencing her promptly.
At his gesture, Bruynarth rushes forward and bites at the greenskin.
Allandir's first arrow takes the hobgoblin in the side, but she dodges his second shot and Bruynarth's charge. She snarls as she marks the bear as her quarry, stabbing him with both blades. The dagger sinks deeply into the bear's flank before the hobgoblin pulls her blades out and holds them up to parry further blows!
Growling with annoyance, Pril moves with rapid grace to slide down the ladder and race around to confront the hobgoblin that appears to be in charge.
The hobogblin parries Pril's first strike, but she delivers a second punch straight into the warrior's gut! She spits out a little bit of vomit as the mighty blow perforates some vital organs, though she still stands.
The half-orcs quickly get to their feets and grab their bows, firing upon Pril. Both hit, but not having had time to properly study the gnome, the injuries are minor.
Allandír transfers his aim to one of the half-orcs who is attacking from the platforms, since he is the only one equipped to take them out from a distance.
Bruynarth has suffered a near-fatal wound and retreats from combat after biting again at the hobgoblin.
Ervan draws a glowing cylinder in the air and invokes a word of power, causing runes to appear where there was only air a moment ago. A soft sound that can only be described as a hiss follows and then, out of thin air, an air mephit appears.
The gnome continues to punch and kick at the hobgoblin.
Gull, Nell, and Lucius all miss with their attacks!
The sudden appearance of Ervan's summoned mephit takes the hobgoblin by surprise. She turns right into the path of its breath weapon, shrieking as the wind scours the flesh off her face!
Pril tries to take advantage of the distraction but the hobgoblin recovers quickly, easily avoiding her blows. But Bruynarth takes revenge, bringing the hobgoblin down with a vicious bite before retreating to his master! Allandir shifts his aim to one of the half-orcs, scoring a good hit.
Seeing their leader fall and with half their number taken out of the fight, the two half-orcs drop their weapons and raise their hands in surrender!
Ervan nods at the mephit after it does a remarkable job at redecorating the hobgoblin's face. "I thank you for your services, my dear elemental friend. For now, goodbye, and until we meet again." With a flourish, he ends the summoning spell.
"Now, these two gents of ill repute are worth more to us while they still draw breath. There's a bounty on their heads so perhaps we can arrange something with the local representatives of the law back in Breachill to get these two shipped to Elidir."
You take the half-orcs into custody and sort through the Bloody Blades' gear.
Inside the cabin is a rickety, round table, as well as a bed and footlocker that sit beyond a ratty curtain along the southern wall. A key on the hobgoblin opens the chest, inside of which you find a 50-foot length of rope, a pair of grappling hooks, four lesser healing potions, and an everburning torch. There is also a silk pouch containing 400 sp.
Pril nods at the suggestion of turning the fellows in for a bounty.
"Let's search their bunkhouse and then we can talk to them. Maybe they'll tell us what they know about Voz."
The half-orcs prove eager to cooperate. They tell you that a half-elf hired them to guard the cave complex located on the eastern side of this area so she could use it to flee the region. Further, they say that the half-elf mentioned that she might camp in the caves while she completed some final research, before she heads off to claim what she called her “great reward.” They do not know her name, nor any other pertinent details.
"Is she in the caves now?" the gnome asks with an eye towards the dark cave mouth.
The half-orcs nod in confirmation.