Charles is wounded pretty heavily but stands his ground and readies his next spell, planning on slamming his ray into the nearest pirate when he gets with range.
Silvio keeps up the sling shots--they've been quite effective so far!
;
;
"Defend!" cries Silvio to Winter, and the dog stands prepares to defend himself and Silvio from the incoming pirates.
;
Garen calls on Iomedae for a final moment of divine guidance, while Sledge makes a convincing play at already being a Razmiran. Energy waits in Charles' hand as the boat draws ever closer and Silvio makes two more well-aimed attacks, pummeling the closest pirate. Ewem's song thrums with furious energy and the party feels their blood pulsing in their ears, ready to unleash rage. Then Walren draws out his axe and makes a motion to drag the aggressive thundercloud along with the boat. The unlucky recipient sizzles as electricity wracks his body . The same man looks up as Charles sends a ray at him. It hits the man directly in the chest, but he shakes off the oncoming nausea.
Garen: Guidance
Sledge: Non-mechanical demoralize
Charles: Ray of Sickening
Silvio: Two hits
Winter: Readied attack
Ewem: Start Inspired Rage, Move
Walren: Direct Thundercloud, Draw Weapon
Walren: Aggressive Thundercloud
30 ft away
All delay until the boats make contact
Save
Corsairs can't fail the DC 10 Climb check
Winter's readied attack hits flat-footed shield-less AC and Green falls, takes damage, then stands from prone
Yellow and Blue both attack, cleaving using Deck Fighting for no AC penalty
Possible hit
Miss
Crit Threat
Miss
Confirmed Crit
With a yell, the pirates' boat's bow impacts the Black Mist's portside. They drop their crossbows, pull out cutlasses, and begin climbing.
The bloodied, half-cooked pirate is the first to breach the deck, but Winter is waiting for him! With a savage bite and a twist, the man tumbles back down his own ship. Battered and bruised, he stands back up, but just barely.
The other two quickly ascend and cleave their cutlasses out towards the halfling and his dog. Their initial strikes both make dreadful impact, though Silvio and Winter are both able to defend themselves from the cross-cleaved strikes.
Charles:
Garen:
Silvio:
Winter:
Sledge:
Ewem:
Walren:
Privateers:
Map
Standing on the stairs Sledge casts colors spray defensively, and empowers it with his arcane pool, blasting yellow, blue, and green with a scintillating blast of seizure inducing colors.
Make a DC 15 will save or suffer the ill effects of COLOR SPRAY!
"Ruffians! Curs! Razmir's wrath falls upon you now! Prostrate yourself before his might!"
Sledge unleashes his gout of spectral brilliance and the closest pirate to him stares dumbfounded as his cutlass clatters to the deck. The other two blink their eyes but look ready to persist in their assault.
Winter goes for the boarder who struck him, and now stands dumstruck by the power of Razmir!
;
Silvio draws his dagger and stabs the poor fellow who may well be convulsing on the ground at this point, and conveniently closer to his level.
;
Charles hauls back and does quick, one-two jab in the air with his free hands and a blue fist flies towards one of the pirates.
Winter vs Yellow AC 12, Hit -9
Silvio vs Yellow AC 8, Hit -7
Charles vs Green AC 18, Hit -4
Fail
Blue isn't dumb. This isn't going well. He tries to withdraw.
The party launches a vicious counterattack! Garen carves into his target, while Winter drags his stunned, blinded target down to the ground and Silvio puts another hole in him. Charles steps up closer to the edge of the boat and knocks out the weary pirate still left in the vessel below. Walren's thundercloud shifts from the now-defeated pirate up to the one engaged with Garen, who sizzles for his trouble. With a roar, Ewem leaps from the stairs and begins running down the side of the ship, swinging his warhammer at the same target !
Seeing one of his allies below the water, one unconscious, and one getting savaged on the ground, the remaining pirate deliberately falls off the side of the boat while drawing something from within his cloak. In his rage, Ewem sees through the ploy and tries to strike out before the man can do anything. He strikes a telling blow as the pirate begins throwing. The vial soars into the air and lands behind Silvio, shattering in a quick inferno that takes hold against the rain. The man's eyes glaze over as he falls uncontrolled back to his boat, on top of his already unconscious companion.
Charles:
Garen:
Silvio:
Winter:
Sledge:
Ewem:
Walren:
Privateers:
Map
Sledge, hopped up on adrenaline, will go over to the other boat to check out what they might have below decks, and to smash some heads in with his flail while his buffs still run!
Seeing the fire on deck, Charles moves towards the railing and begins casting quickly. With effort, he pulls a small blob of water up from the river in order to dispense it on the middle of the fire, hoping to limit its spread and slow it.
Garen and Charles make quick work of the fire, extinguishing it before it has a chance to spread. Sledge leaps onto the other boat to find it remarkably spare save for the bleeding bodies of the tangled-up pirates. They are--perhaps surprisingly--well-equipped.
One of them also has a key hanging on his belt.
They are both bleeding out.
Winter and Silvio continue their attack on the downed privateer. It seems like Winter might have a moment of hesitation, but a stunned, prone, blinded foe puts up little resistance before his jaws.
Somehow the near-convulsing man on deck twists out of the way of the aggressive thundercloud that rises to greet him.
But the skald steps up and, despite his awkward balancing act making his aim quite imprecise, gives one final telling blow to the privateer, knocking him out cold.
"I guess my Razmiran impression isn't all that convincing," Sledge says dejectedly.
|
Garen will check the privateers. If any are breathing he will stabilize them and truss them up. Once they are tied he will transfer them to the boat. "These will stand trial so that justice may be served." He has no issues with summary executions when necessary but trials are good for the people. Before tying each up, Garen will remove their armor and weapons creating a pile to be transferred to Captain Ewem's.
Charles helps get the pirates secured and unarmed. "These are very high quality weapons and armor for pirates. The people of this area have either had very bad luck, or someone is funding the pirate operations to put a squeeze on merchant ships."
While the tall folk are busy tying up and hauling over the three privateers (all three of whom are stable by the time you get to them), Silvio pokes around their ship. Sledge and Garen's cursory glances miss what the halfling sees, however.
"There's a lockbox here," he says. Grabbing the key from the belt of one of the unconscious pirates on a hunch, the box opens easily and reveals additional treasures.
Inside is a bag containing 13 pp, 28 gp, and 16 sp (159.6 gp total), an anchor feather token, and a letter of marque and reprisal signed by Imperial Governor, High Commander of the Molthuni Imperial Army, and Territorial Governor of Canorate Markwin Teldas. The letter is a Molthuni government license authorizing the four men on this vessel (now three) to attack and capture vessels of Nirmathas with the promise of a transfer of ownership to the privateer after return to Molthune. The charter also includes explicit permission to cross into Nirmathi territory to conduct such reprisals.
When Sledge mentions the election, the Mayor nods solemnly. "Democracy is the life's blood of Nirmathas." He doesn't say it, but his implication is clear: he'd rather this than live under the thumb of those imperialistic Molthuni bastards down south. Kassen is far enough away from Molthune that the town has never really seen the fighting of their neighbors, but even a frontier town like Kassen has Nirmathi pride in their democratic principles. OP
"[The Church of Razmir in Tamran] would make good donations to the military as well, enough to feed and arm our soldiers and even hire some mercenaries to help fight Molthune." OP
"I don' expect too much trouble in the week between here and Tamran, but those Molthuni bastards--" Walren makes a disgusting hocking noise and spits on the deck, as does Ewem, "--have been prowlin' the waters lookin' for victims." OP
The people of Tamran are a hardy bunch of survivors. They know that Molthune could invade their city at any time, and so while they are happy to chat with the myriad travelers who flow through their city, they know that any moment could bring another siege—and they are prepared to defend themselves or flee at a moment’s notice. OP
Walren's eyes darken as this information is revealed, and he spits at one of the men. "Don' tell Ewem. He'll kill 'em outright 'fore ye get 'em to Tamran." He sighs, looking over as the scarred Kellid man, and nods his head. "Right. Put some holes in the bottom of their ship to sink her and let's get a move on. Other 'privateers'--" another spit "--might lurk nearby. We're nearly there."
"Well funded indeed and no small amount of incentive. I believe you have the right idea of it, Captain. Let's get to port and make sure the local constabulary is aware and get justice for these pigs."
Seeing that Garen is working on sinking the boat, he stands guard over the prisoners. "Roger, if they try to escape feel free to bite off one of their ears."
Unless anyone chooses to provide any sort of care to the privateers--now prisoners of war--it seems that there is little chance of them regaining consciousness by the time you get to port.
Those of greater--even magically-enhanced--strength sink the privateers' vessel with a few well-placed hull holes and return to the Black Mist for the final leg of the journey. Captain Walren is quick to get the barge moving once more, putting as much distance as possible between the site of the battle.
In the dark, Tamran glitters with hundreds of tiny lights, emanating from the windows and lamps that dot the city. It has the look of a new town, built primarily of wood, though some older buildings linger here and there, many showing signs of damage from the war with Molthune to the south. Cracked walls and burnt remnants can be seen even from the docks, fresh scars from the long conflict.
Compared to Crowstump, the mood here is more reserved--defiant, even. Whereas a child greeted you at the docks in Crowstump and the sounds of merriment filled the air, here an older man with scarred, leathery skin and an eyepatch guides the Black Mist and ties the barge to the dock. There is certainly life happening in the city, but it's not out here at the docks. That might have something to do with Tamran being easily three times the size of Crowstump, which was itself four times larger than Kassen. Walren pays the man and chatters with Ewem in Hallit. Then he turns to the rest of you. "It's late, and I doubt my contacts are ready to receive a shipment of ingots. The militia, however, probably has some folk awake in the barracks ready to take in these pirates. After that, I reckon a good, safe place for ye to go is the Gar's Last Meal. It ain't far from here. In any case, ye've all been good passengers. Ye ever need passage elsewhere, look me up and I'll be happy tae provide."
Sledge keeps his faux-Razmiran mask on as they enter the city. He helps Garen drag the pirates to their new home with the local militia.
Charles, though physically weaker than the others, assists in carrying their assailants and the letter from Molthune to the local constables.
Silvio heals his own wounds and those of Winter.
"I think you look very convincing as a Razmiran," mentioned Silvio. "These pirates just didn't know when to quit. At least that's four less pirates scouring these waters."
He extends some care to Winter, Charles, and the fallen pirates. He hopes to get the pirates upright again because he didn't want to carry them.
The four Kassenites disembark from the Black Mist, giving their farewells to Walren and Ewem, and perp walk the three pirates down along a few bridges and streets until they reach the local headquarters of the Nirmathi militia . Along the way, they pass by one of the largest buildings in Tamran, with a half-scorched wooden sign proudly declaring itself as "Forest Bounty", where both inside and outside are people from many walks of life currently celebrating. Based on the dress of those inside, it looks like the building might be currently hosting a wedding reception, with the ostensible bride and groom visible through the windows hoisted up on chairs and a lively band playing. A few people are smoking and/or drinking outside, and catch a glimpse of the Kassenites walking the pirates along. While the group gets a few curious glances thrown their way, they also hear a few jeers directed at or about the pirates.
"That's right! Haul in those Molthuni scum!"
"The more off the waters the better!"
"Three cheers for the Razmiri!"
"Hip hip--HUZZAH! Hip hip--HUZZAH! Hip hip--HUZZAH!"
The militia headquarters is a comparatively deader affair. The door is locked, but the inside is lit by lanterns. A knock at the door summons a young soldier with an unruly growth of blonde peach fuzz poking out from the corners of his face barely obscuring the pimples of hormone-ridden youth, dressed in the dark browns and greens of a Nirmathi ranger.
"Uh, hi," he says, voice breaking in surprise (and with pubertal awkwardness). "Uuuuuuhhhhhh..." He seems to be trying to remember a script of some sort. "Right! Welcome to Tamran, citizens. Oh!" He glances around the group and sees Sledge in his wooden Razmiri mask. "Didn't see you there, sir. Then, uuuuuhhhhh, welcome to Tamran militia headquarters. I'm Private Lance Glendower. How can I help you tonight, er, be of service this evening, sirs?"
Silvio tries to bring the pirates back to tolerable health, but his heart is not in it. Regardless, they fumble the pirates through the town, taking the rather long walk from the docks to the militia, and soaking in what felt to him like an enormous town.
As they pass by the Forest's Bounty, Silvio tries not to react to the cheers, but he can't completely suppress a smile at the congratulations. For a moment, he starts looking out for Razmiri before realizing that they were the Razmiri being cheered. "Well, that's one way to get some attention," he mumbles, meekly waving to the gawkers and supporters alike.
Inside the militia headquarters, Silvio doesn't feel himself to be much older than the private. He keeps a hand on one of the bound pirates, but remains quiet, not really knowing what to say in this unique situation.
"Thank you Silvo," Sledge says, "I'll do my best to not get caught up in all the excitement and forget myself."
===
"Oh s&+&," Sledge mutters quietly to himself as he realizes that he has just volunteered himself to do a great deal of talking in their coming endeavor. He steps forward to greet the private, trying to adopt an imperious air. "Private Glendower was it? These pirates need a jail cell. We have evidence to log against them as well, that indicates they are Molthuni privateers. Do you think you can handle that, or should we wait for you to fetch a superior officer?"
"Aw, s~$+, Molthuni privateers?" Private Glendower exclaims, his squeaky voice breaking even more. "I didn't know the Razmiri were hunting pirates now! Or wearing wooden masks. Is that a new thing?" The young man--boy?--seems overly excited before he smacks himself in the forehead. "Wow, okay. Uuuhhh, right." Private Glendower disappears inside the door, which slams in your faces. He reappears after a few moments. "Ah crap. Please come in. Sorry about that."
The inside of the militia headquarters is sparse. In what passes for a reception area, you see maps of Nirmathas, Molthune, and Tamran specifically. The map of Molthune has some crude graffiti on it. A few sets of antlers sit prominently near the ceiling, spaced with antique-looking swords in fan displays. In an adjacent room are a few Nirmathi regulars who appear to be playing cards in a thick cloud of cigar smoke. They don't look up as the squeaky private brings you in. As you come in, Private Glendower is scribbling messily on a pad of paper. "Three...Molthuni...pirates...imprisoned...Toilday...17th...Neth...4709. Okay. Okay." He taps the quill on the paper, leading to an ink blot. His eyes widen and he drops the quill, which drains into an unsightly spot on the floor. With a frown, Private Glendower tries to cover up the spot with his boot. "Uuuuuhhhh, we'll take it from here. But, uuhh, wait there. I need to check something."
Private Glendower jugs into the smoke-filled room, scattering a trail of ink blots on the floor for a few paces. Although it's difficult to hear the specifics from the vestibule, it sounds like the other militiamen within are hazing him. But all at once, their heads turn, followed by the sound of wood scraping on wood. Three soldiers march into the hall, looking over the ragtag bunch of Kassenites. A man with a thick, curly brown beard seems to be at least nominally in charge. He ruffles Private Glendowers' hair ("Hey, stop it!") and then crosses his arms. "Privateers, eh? Good. I suppose you'll be wanting the bounty, then, eh? Hand over the writ and we'll book these sorry good-for-nothing imperialist dogs and let you have some good drinking money."
As brown-beard waits for the writ, he adds conversationally. "So are you all locals, passing through, or what?" His eyes keep flitting over to Sledge, and then flickering over to Garen and then down to Silvio. He also gives a more-than-passing look at Charles as well, although looking for something.
"Aw, s*%@, Molthuni privateers?" Private Glendower exclaims, his squeaky voice breaking even more. "I didn't know the Razmiri were hunting pirates now! Or wearing wooden masks. Is that a new thing?" The young man--boy?--seems overly excited before he smacks himself in the forehead. "Wow, okay. Uuuhhh, right." Private Glendower disappears inside the door, which slams in your faces. He reappears after a few moments. "Ah crap. Please come in. Sorry about that."
Silvio cuts in as the private starts going on, hoping to get a bit of information before they were introduced to a larger group of folks. "Wait--you haven't seen the wooden mask before? Do you mean you haven't seen a mask before, or just haven't seen it made of wood?" He suddenly remembers that the mysterious man they discovered had an iron mask, and wondered if that was the appropriate material.
* * *
As the group reaches the superior officer, Silvio digs out the Letter of Marque they'd recovered. "They hunted us and not the other way round," he admits. "There was a fourth one that went into the water."
It was a deliberate non-answer to the question. He wasn't sure what he was allowed to say, though he imagined it would become obvious that Silvio wasn't a local.
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"It is true!" Sledge adopts a pose of chagrin, although it is difficult for him. "It is a long tale, but if you insist, I will tell you an abridged version!" He begins to recount a fabricated tale. "You see, I have never been to this great city before. But after Razmir granted upon me a vision in my time of greatest need, I have known I must make my way to this holy place, and surround myself with other... enlightened individuals! Although I have yet to be formally recognized by the ranks of the church, I am sure they will accept me with open arms. After all," he continues with a dramatic flourish, grabbing the quill out of the private's hand. "After Razmir appeared to me, I gained the power of miracles!" He holds out his hand, with the quill in it, and after a few mystic words, as well as presenting Razmir's holy symbol the quill that he took from the private begins to glow with a soft light.
"Of course, that is just one of the abilities the Living God has blessed me with," Sledge says coyly. "If you have any injured, I could demonstrate that with a minor miracle. But you see, the ironworks in my little part of the world are not particularly advanced, and metal is scarce so in his infinite wisdom and beneficence, the Living God instructed me to make one of wood, until I could obtain the right materials!"
Sledge really commits to the bit. Even the people who know him might be fooled for a second. Hopefully he can maintain this façade in front of the real priests, but this was a good litmus test to see if his disguise would fool the average citizenry of Tamran.
Private Glendower looks down at Silvio as he asks his questions. "No, just iron, or some kinda metal."
After Sledge's demonstration, Private Glendower twirls the enlightened quill around in his hand. "Huh, neat." Then he looks down at Silvio, and over at Garen who is leaving to get some fresh air, and then back at the wooden-masked Sledge. And you're traveling with...never mind. I'll be right back."
---
Brown-beard takes the writ from Silvio, reads it over, and then nods. "Raffi, get a back from the back. They've earned it."
One of the other men at his side runs off and returns before too long with a very full bag of coins. "Five hundred gold pieces, per the bounty issued by the Council. We'll take these three from here." Two more men, along with Private Glendower, take the privateers from you and march them back. Brown-beard salutes Charles, Silvio, and Sledge and nods. "You four have done your country proud. This token of our appreciation comes from the Council of Tamran. Keep up the good work. For liberty!"
The leader stands for another moment after his declaration, hand raised, and then relaxes. "Y'all need anything else?"
Charles interprets the man's glance as expecting something from the one in charge, and at his age most would expect him to be leading those significantly younger than himself. But he nods to brown-beard while making eye contact and cuts his eyes down to Master Sledge, indicating that the man should listen to what he has to say. Even though Charles is obviously the eldest of the group, he is there to oversee and assist as necessary. Though hopefully if the man is looking for someone in charge, he will assume this is some sort of training of young leaders and he is there as an advisor.
He pulls out the letter with the Multhuni seal on it and passes it to Sledge, allowing him to present it to the guard.
He watches Garen step outside, but stays with the other two continuing to play the role of older advisor.
Silvio's eyes grow wide as he sees the very large bag of gold. He salutes back when the men salute. "Thanks to the Council, and thank you!" The bag's hefty weight seems to confirm its worth.
"Do you know where we might find the members of the Council? We would like to thank them and see how we can help the town." And more besides, but Silvio continued to keep their full motives concealed.
"Well I ain't about to go out givin their private addresses or nothin like that," brown beard says with a light chuckle, "Not that I know it. But if they've got business, it'll probably be around the Forest Bounty tomorrow." He shrugs. "You can always request a meeting, but who knows how long that'll take."
---
Outside there are a few people strolling in the dim light, their paths lit by candled lanterns above. This seems to be a more residential area overall than other sections of the city, with far more buildings dedicated to commerce across the bridges to the north, east, and south. But a small child is walking hand-in-hand with his mother and spots Garen. He waves his hand as he sees the well-armored paladin before his mother tugs on his arm to keep him moving.
Silvio nods. He wasn't sure what more he was expecting to get in asking that question. "The Forest Bounty, okay. I think that'll do it."
He heads on outside to join Garen again. "We got quite a large bounty for our trouble. Five hundred gold pieces. Enough to sleep comfortably tonight."
Following the militia's instructions, the party makes their way back across a few bridges to the docks, where the smell of fish is strong. The wooden sign above the Gar's Last Meal is painted with a large gar, complete with its long, toothy mouth wrapped around a person's arm, a spear plunged into its backside from above. The air seems suffused with the smell of fish as the party goes into the inn.
The common room of the inn looks directly into the bar, where a one-armed man stands polishing a glass. Directly above the bar is mounted a glassy-eyed giant gar with a notable hole in its backside. The man looks up as he sees you and greets you with a grunt. "Two gold a room a night. Three silver for a meal. Drinks vary. Whaddya want?"
The one-armed man looks at the group with a surly gaze and goes back to polishing the glass. "Sixteen gold for a suite."
"A fireplace, you say? I'll cover that cost for the extra warmth." Charles offers as they are considering the options. "What's on the menu for tonight? I'm really hoping something other than giant snake." Seeing the confused look on the bartender's face, he shakes his head and holds up his hand to emphasize, "Don't ask."
Seeing the giant gar on the wall and the man's missing arm, Charles asks to hear the story about the massive fish as he points up to it. "Do fish that size regularly swim waters near here?"
Silvio is suitably impressed by the gar and the what appears to be the bartender's costly victory against that foe.
Winter sits by a stool while Silvio climbs his way up and then stands on it to get a better look at what apparently was a gar. "Applejack to go with the meal, please." He waits to see if the bartender is keen to tell his tale.
The man smirks as Charles indicates he'll be an even-better paying customer. "No snake on my menu. Got some good fish stew still warm. Cacciucco with whatever was caught today, cooked by the wife." He sets the glass down and flicks the cloth he had been using to clean it across his shoulder, and then holds out his hand to the wizard. "Name's Puglas. Puglas Tamall. And I'm happy to tell the tale for a payin' customer."
A handful of other customers near enough in the common room to overhear Puglas alternately chuckle or groan. This is probably a story that the regulars among them have heard a lot.
Puglas swipes the gold off the bar and disappears through a door behind the bar, reappearing a moment later with five steaming bowls balanced precariously on top of one another, threatening to spill their contents all over. With remarkable grace, the man walks back up to the bar and manages to pop four of the bowls on the bar without spilling a drop. The fifth he deposits on the floor in front of Winter. Then he pulls out a couple loaves of bread and sets them in between the four men. With a quick flash he begins pouring three ales from a barrel, placing a full, frothy glass in front of each human. He finishes with a glass of applejack for the halfling. All the while, he is telling his story and pointing animatedly towards the 30-foot long fish above the bar.
"Becky here and I go back thirty some odd years. Probably first encountered her not long after I first started fishin'. Meanest fish I ever met. She'd rip my lines, tear my nets, eat my catches, and near sink my ship least once a year. She only got bigger and meaner, too, year by year. Knew she was the same one each time because--to answer your question--no, they don't usually get this big round here. So about six years back, I'm out fishin' in the lake on one of my best boats when Becky leaps out of the water and catches my arm in her mouth in midair, draggin' me into the water. I was lucky I had my harpoon in my other hand! I couldn't see a damned thing, she was thrashin' around and tryin' to drown me or eat me alive. And I just started stabbin' her fast and hard as I could. We wrestled around for, oh I dunno, maybe an hour? Felt like it anyway. And Becky mighta chewed my arm off, but--" Puglas points up. "That was her last meal."
|
|
Garen doesn't see the need for the larger room but he foots his fair share of the larger room. In response to the bartender's story he says, "Impressive sir. Good thing you kept your wits about you."
He spends the rest of the evening observing the crowd, recounting their trip down river with his fellow passengers, and pondering what to do next. They should probably make contact with the council member that was suggested but they needed to get to the Ranger's Lament and get some information if it still existed.
"Thanks," says Silvio in appreciation as he gets his food. Winter wags his tail as the man approaches and starts devouring his portion hungrily.
"Becky really had it for you," agrees Silvio. "Glad you were able to open this place."
Silvio seems content to recover from their journey and battle. After enjoying his meal, he's ready to relax. In the privacy of their room, he spends his remaining magics to heal wounds.
He reads a few more pages of his new favorite book before laying down for sleep.
Charles: 33/35
Garen: 45/47
Silvio: 34/36
Winter: 35/36
Sledge: 37/37[/ooc]
Charles hungrily eats his food, but makes sure to save some of the fish pieces for Roger. After both eat their fill, he begins casting a spell and cleaning each of the bowls of those who have finished.
"Might as well be thorough after having our 'friends' join in to show we're not completely uncivilized," he adds with a wink, hoping to reduce a bit of the work the one-armed man has to do.
Charles spends a bit more time talking to others around the bar before retiring to the room and adding another log or two to the fire. He is very grateful to Silvio for healing up the holes the crossbow bolts left in him.
The rest of the evening passes uneventfully for the Kassenites. Sledge continues to draw a mixture of reactions from people, though most are keen to ignore him in favor of those not actively wearing masks. Puglas appreciates the assistance with cleaning and seems generally cheery, all things considered.
In their private suite, in front of the warmth of a comfortable fire that banishes the approaching winter chill, the Kassenites review what they had learned and come up with some plans of action for the following day. It is probably nice to sleep in comfortable beds instead of hammocks.
Morning comes, and with it a knock at the door as a boy about the age of eight asks if the group wants breakfast in their suite or in the common area. Bread with smoked whitefish is the order of the morning, though something else can be requested if the men are keen on it.
Then the city of Tamran awaits.
Silvio is already up by the time the boy knocks on the door, having prayed to Erastil. "I'd love a bit of breakfast up here," responds Silvio to the boy's offer.
He chimes in when Garen discusses next steps. "Guess we could check out the Ranger's Lament, but I'd save that for evening when folks normally head to a tavern. Maybe better to have a chat with the Council first?"