Madness, Blood and Thunder in Ravens Bluff IC

[Frog Dragon]

Bitterstone

Though Jorran did not often like to admit it, he was rather outmatched. Likely he could end his opponent if he got a breather, but not a moment before. Still focusing on defense, he started to run for the larger street, nevertheless drawing his crossbow.

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Standard Action: Total defense
Move: 35ft back down the street (35ft because of the puddle just at the end of movement taking up two squares), while drawing crossbow.

HP: 10/57
AC: 22 (17 Touch)
20% Miss Chance

No tumble because I want maximum speed, the guy only gets 1 AoO anyway, and I couldn't possibly hit DC 25.

[TheFallenOne]

Bitterstone

The kids run away as Jorran comes near their position, and the monk pursues, aiming a staffstrike at Jorran's neck as they hustle down the narrow street side by side, and when both of you are standing in the puddle, he makes use of the slippery ground, suddenly dropping to a crouch with deceptive ease and hooking his own leg around his enemy's calf. "Last chance."

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AoO
(1d20+10)[14] (1d6+6)[11]

his turn: trip
touch - (1d20+11)[24] trip - (1d20+12)[21] countertrip - (1d20+12)[24] concealment - (1d100)[15]

Improved Trip
(1d20+10)[30] (1d6+6)[12] concealment - (1d100)[60]

The Sign of the Quill and Scribe Shoppe

"You... want to split up the volumes?" Hoaten Thee's dark eyes go comically wide as if Mirielle suggested eating babies. "Sure, they're not from the same hand, but the covers, size and inks are all made to be matching... The collection has a selling prize of 200 gold, but if you want a single volume I'm afraid I have to ask double prize for the inconvenience, 100 gold instead of 50.

Oh, it would be delightful if you can find me a buyer!" he exclaims, clapping his big hands together. "Every scholar would be proud to own this treasure. But if they're not from this city I fear they won't be able to witness it's magnificence with their own eyes."

[Jeff the Green]

The Sign of the Quill and Scribe Shoppe

Mirielle tries hard to suppress her smile at Thee's reaction. "Well," she says, considering the offer closely, "I'm mostly interested in that third volume, but how about I take the whole set, then, at 200 gold, and you throw in a quire of parchment. I'll write those letters, and I'll also give you my address. If you come across a book or volume in my price range that matches my interests, send me a message and I'll buy it at your normal markup. It will save you the shelf space and the time of finding a buyer."

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A quire is 25 sheets, 5 gp worth.

[Frog Dragon]

Bitterstone

Jorran ducks under the staff as he runs, and though his opponent is right on target trying to trip him, the shadows he is cloaked by make his seem not quite where he actually is. The monk kicks at air as Jorran continues to run.

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Standard Action: Total Defense
Move Action: Move at full speed again, turning to the right on the map, left from Jorran's perspective. Moving alongside the wall, my movement should bring me just shy of the double-doors.

[TheFallenOne]

Bitterstone

The monk suddenly slows down, falling a bit behind to get a shot from Jorran's blind spot. "Be obedient and go to sleep then." A spinning quarterstaff strike hits the Luskanite in the back of his head, and the hard ground rapidly comes nearer in his blurry vision. After that, there is only blackness.

The Sign of the Quill and Scribe Shoppe

"Aaah, haggling", the merchant answers with a dismayed face. "What a displeasurable custom. Hoaten Thee tries to offer fair price, but if everyone haggles he has to ask more than he'd like to, and then the good people who don't argue over every copper will be the ones suffering from it..." His lips twist like he was just eating something disagreeable. "But you made a friendly offer with the letters, so I'll agree."

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proceed with the meeting then, Jorran won't be there

[candycorn]

Evening Meeting, North Shore, Near Ladyrock

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Alaister will be impersonating a courier. He'll wait until 5 minutes after the appointed time to arrive. While 5 minutes away, he'll use his Disguise Self spell.

Disguise: (1d20+19)[26] (includes +2 for acting in character while being observed) - For disguise, including voice.
Bluff: (1d20+12)[23] (includes inspiration) - for deception, providing the impression that I'm not Alaister.

Shortly after everyone arrives, a raven haired, brown-eyed courier arrives, in a simple traveler's ensemble. The courier looks down at a sheet of parchment for a moment, before placing it within his inside vest pocket, and saying, "Mirielle Grayholme? I have been bidden by an Alaster to direct you to the restaraunt for your meeting. He wished me to convey his apologies, along with this message. If you would be so kind as to follow me, miss?"

[Sallera]

North Ferry Dock

Aya giggles, waving a finger at the man - he was good, and his unremarkable face fit as easily into a courier's outfit as a vagrant's, but once you'd met him, there was plenty to recognize. The lilt of his voice and the way he walked hadn't noticeably changed, even if just about everything else had. "You're fond of those costumes, aren't you? But I told you I'd be watching. Now, I have no clue where Jorran's gone off to, but he's late and we want to keep this brief, so it looks like I'm playing chaperone tonight. If you do have a place in mind, let's get going."

[Jeff the Green]

Sign of the Quill and Scribe Shoppe

Mirielle smiles and hands over twenty platinum pieces. She places the books and parchment in her bag, then borrows a quill to write out the following for Hoaten:

Mirielle Greyhome
<address>

• History of religion
• Divine magic
• Death and burial rituals
• Undead, deathless, and other means of avoiding mortality

She hesitates for a moment before adding Dead gods and other immortals to the list and heading home to prepare spells.

North Ferry Dock

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Presumably Aya explained what was going on; at that point Mirielle cast detect evil, and so found out, not entirely to her surprise, that Aya is. She maintains concentration until Alaister shows up and Aya identifies him.

Mirielle sighs. "I don't like it when people lie to me like that, Alaister. It bodes ill for the future. Let's get on with this, then."

Once they reach the restaurant and are seated, Mirielle begins with the pointed question: "What is your interest in Cybrarvain?"

[candycorn]

After Aya and Mirielle speak, Alaister (the Courier) says, in a very low voice, "This isn't for your benefit. The town has eyes... and ears."

He does radiate an evil alignment, however.

In a somewhat louder voice, he then states to Aya, "I'm sure I have no idea what you are talking about, miss. If you would follow me please...

He will escort the group to the Raven's Glory, requesting a private booth. Once inside, he lets his disguise spell drop, revealing a quite average-looking man with a rather common shade of brown hair, and quite striking pale green eyes, dressed in a simple travelling outfit. He isn't sporting any noticeable weapons, but he does have a simple backpack on.

Alaister then bows slightly, with a small, but obviously practiced, fourish. "I'm terribly sorry for the minor deception, but this is not a safe town, and I'd prefer giving certain people as little opportunity to track me, and by extension us, as possible."

After Mirielle's question, he chuckles, replying, "My, right to the point... Aya was right, you are simply delightful. It's refreshing to see someone who doesn't mince words. But, I digress. Quite simply, my interest in the elf you refer to as Cybrarvain begins and ends with his death. If you'd like the reason why, then I would hear your story. Who are you, Mirielle Greyhome? Why do you chase cold-blooded killers?"

[Jeff the Green]

"Well," Mirielle says with a smile, "we don't seem to be acting at cross-purposes then. I'll tell you why I want him dead, with the understanding that this won't go any further."

"Until some months ago, I was an archivist for the church of Kelemvor. I woke up with my room on fire, and managed to escape with my possessions, some of the more important documents, and most of the senior staff. The fire was set by Cybrarvain, and since I no longer had much of anything to archive in, I started tracking him from Chondath to the Vast. I heard he was in the city, so I sailed down the Dragon Reach, which is where I met Aya, Jorran, and a couple of others with whom I've done a little work.

"People see the hand and are so afraid of what it represents," she muses, pointing at the holy symbol at her neck, "that they forget about what it's holding. Cybrarvain apparently did, when he targeted my church."

"Why do you seek his death?" she asks, leaning back into her seat and sipping at her wine.

[candycorn]

Alaister settles back in the chair closest to the exit, making eye contact, the beginnings of a smile just hinting at the corner of his mouth as he takes in Mirielle's words. "So it would seem that you were the collateral damage in one of Cybrarvain's missions. Unfortunately, I was a target. About a year or so ago, I was in the Dalelands. As a student of Oghma, I firmly believe that those who are best informed make the best decisions, and I pride myself on helping others be well-informed. Contacts approach me, seeking my expertise and knowledge, and I provide it, for a nominal fee. Truthfully, it's quite difficult for me to turn down such jobs... Either I know it already, and I have the joyous opportunity to illuminate others... Or I don't, and I have the good fortune to begin a quest for the noblest of reasons... Learning.

Over the course of a couple such tasks, I evidently learned something that Cybrarvain didn't wish me to know. What that is, I'm still figuring out... But suffice it to say that he's made two attempts on my life, and I have no doubt he would make a third if the opportunity arose. My choices are fairly straightforward. I either learn how to avoid the assassin, escape his notice.... Or I kill him.

I've been tracking him for some time, and just over a month ago, I was able to aid a nearby stablemaster in discovering the reason his horses were dying. In exchange, he informed me of a recent purchase of a horse by an elf matching Cybrarvain's description, and that he departed on the road leading here. So here I am, because here is where I believe he is."

Alaister leans forward, eyes locked on Mirielle's, focused on her, as he replies, "If you would, Mirielle, tell me about your time as an archivist. Why were you chosen for that position? What did you learn from it?"

[Jeff the Green]

"I don't know exactly why my Fathers Superior chose me, merely that I showed an 'aptitude for scholarship.' My memory is decent, I can summarize information well and clearly, and despite having some talent for talking and empathizing with people I much prefer books. Most that enter the priesthood of the Lord of the Dead do so because they wish to comfort the dying or fight undead; few but the elderly ask for such sedentary, solitary work, so the hierarchy chooses a few of the younger acolytes for it."

She takes a sip and smiles quizzically at Alaister. "It would take much longer than we have to tell you what I learned as an archivist; I've been one for nearly a decade. I know how to assist with autopsies and burial rites; that one cannot reliably identify an unpreserved corpse after three days without using magic; and how to identify the effects of certain alchemical items. That last one was how I started on Cybrarvain's trail, in fact.

"If you meant skills, I can cast spells more adeptly than most, drive off the undead, and fight with some minor proficiency. More than minor if I know what I'm fighting. I can copy a book by magic over the course of a couple days—a week for miniscule rather than cursive—and given enough preparation I can find out most facts. I can also call upon Kelemvor to speed my travel, though not for any length of time. What about you? What can you do besides learn and irritate assassins?"

[candycorn]

Alaister nods thoughtfully as she relates her experiences... As she speaks about burial rites, he's moderately interested, but the tidbit about identifying corpses absolutely fascinates him. His eyes, however, almost glaze over when she refers to casting spells and such, though he's not entirely bored, as her account at least seems devoid of the boasting such self-description usually entails. When Mirielle asks her question, Alaister arches an eyebrow at her description of her activities, before replying, with obviously feigned shock...

"Besides learn? You wound me, miss! You may as well ask a mighty general what else he can do besides wage war, or a mighty hero what he can do besides slaying that dragon!

In all seriousness, however, I do quite a bit. While my main focus is on finding out things that are hard to find out, I have a minor talent with magic, on par with an apprentice mage. I used it tonight, for example, to mask my appearance. I'm reasonably able with sword and bow, and when misfortune requires I actually use either, I'm a bit luckier than most." Alaister speaks of fighting with obvious distaste. "I don't believe in using a weapon without knowing what I am fighting, and even then, only if I must. As such, I almost always seek to know who I'm dealing with. There are many paths to success, and fighting isn't usually the only one.

Unlike you, I've never been ordered to a task. The idea of superiors... It works for many, but not so much for me. I take the jobs I wish, and leave the jobs I don't. I may not always make the best choices, but I do always learn from those choices I make. I suppose the will of the divine is as good a form of guidance as any, but I prefer to be judged by my beliefs, rather than my god's. Were I to wear Oghma's symbol around my neck, many would consider me too... cloistered... to truly speak frankly to me. Oddly, I'm not so much a fan of books, either. They're well and good, but ideas are the realm of the living, and nothing quite compares to learning from the author, rather than the book. Oh, I'll study when the need arises, but with the effort I would spend finding an authoritative book on animal husbandry, I could find five people that DO it, and learn what it's actually all about. Quite fascinating stuff, horse breeding, incidentally, I highly recommend a few days in the field for anyone, pun intended."

Alaister catches himself, realizing that he's gone somewhat off track, and shakes his head. "There I go again. Get me started on homicide, and in five minute's time I'll be talking about horses. Back on task... I suppose what I was trying to learn was, why did you join Kelemvor's clergy? What inspires you? What's your passion? That, more than anything else, defines who we are, and I would know who you are."

[Jeff the Green]

"Passion? It's been a long time since I've thought about that. Now, I suppose, now that I'm cloistered and have worked for Kelemvor for some time, it's much the same as yours, though perhaps more focused. I recently bought a series of books on dwarven culture to get at a single volume on how they treat their dead. And books inspire me. They keep knowledge alive even when the originator has left to be claimed by their god. I'll grant that you might learn more about raising horses from a farmer than from a book, but I defy you to find someone in this city that knows how to successfully raise a fang dragon from infancy. In general, by the time you know that, you're dead. But if such an expert wrote down their experiences I can learn from them even centuries after they've been mauled and devoured.

"I've always had a minor connection to the church of Kelemvor. I was left at the door of a temple as an infant, before I can remember, and given to a barren couple to raise. They were kind, and never hid that fact from me." Mirielle sighs, her mind turning back to memories she'd deliberately left to collect dust, and her face suddenly looks ten years older. "When I joined my church's ranks, though, it wasn't passion or familiarity that drove me there. It was grief. My family—mother, father, fiancé—and many friends died one after the other. In any case, I thought I might gain some solace by studying death and maybe even help others who were suffering as I had.

"It hasn't exactly worked as I planned, but now I have some comfort in knowing that the knowledge I gain helps people, whether by quelling a plague of undead or by finding out where—and how—their family members died."

Mirielle blinks, somewhat surprised that she shared that information with the stranger. "We ought to finish this meeting quickly. I've been up for far too long today." She considers for a moment. "Actually, perhaps we should postpone it. I trust you, to some extent at least. You've left things out of your story, but so have I, so I won't begrudge you that. That said, I have no intention of being lured to a trap by Cybrarvain. I don't know if he's clever enough to set me up in this way, but I have no doubt he could find someone to do so.

"I propose this: the day after tomorrow, I will meet you in a public, but relatively un-populated place where we can be seen but not easily overheard. A park would do, or the atrium of an inn called the Sanctuary. I will then cast a spell making it impossible for either of us to lie to the other, and we can verify each others' stories. After that, we can discuss plans to find and dispose of our mutual enemy. Would that be acceptable to you?"

[candycorn]

Alaister looks thoughtful for just a moment, as if contemplating a task, before replying, "Oh, you needn't worry about my intentions towards you. If I had been hired to learn about you, I wouldn't have started by asking about Cybrarvain in this town. No, I think... I would have hired someone to ask about him. Then, I would have played the part of an inn patron, and watched for you to make contact. From there, I would have stayed out of the way, watching, only giving instructions to my hired help when you were not around. From there, I could have done any of a number of things, from making contact, to gathering materials of yours for study, or any of a number of other things. But I would almost never reveal myself to someone I was studying, were I able to help it." Alaister continues, "I realize contemplating such things is scarcely comforting, but it should at least give you an idea for how I operate, so that you can see that I'm not, in fact, operating against you."

Alaister then considers the rest, replying, very carefully, "So long as this magic only prohibits lying, rather than compelling truth, I am agreeable to this proposal. I would not bare my most private thoughts to any but my closest friends, and will not submit to anything that would force such. So long as I am free to decline to answer questions that I do not wish to answer, I have no qualms about verifying my honesty.

I would offer one other thing. Friendships are largely based on service, respect, and honoring others. As a show of respect, I would offer my service. If there is anyone or anything you wish to know more of, please, leave a letter under the door of my room at the Posh Paladin. With the note, leave a small square of white fabric, so that I know that it is from either of you. I will look into your matter, with gratitude being my only requested payment."

With that, Alaister rises to depart, pausing for a moment at the entryway, and turning back... "Just so we're clear, you're not actually looking to learn how to raise a fang dragon's baby? I could likely find out, though seperating such a whelp from its mother may be the more dangerous undertaking." With that, Alaister lets slip a mischeivous grin and a wink, raising his cloak and hood about him to hide his identity, and steps out into the Raven's Glory, leaving a gold coin with the server to cover his and Mirielle's wine.

[Sallera]

Given her rather indirect interest in taking down the assassin, Aya keeps to her self-proclaimed role, letting the others hold their discussion and keeping her own attention on watching both Alaister and the entrance. After he has left - or at least, once she's as sure as she can be of that fact - she turns to Mirielle with a small grin. "Well, you two make an interesting pair. Scholars hunting assassins... at least you should have no trouble finding the little firefly now. You want me there at your second meeting as well?"

Stretching out, she sighs and tilts her head toward the entrance. "I should probably check the park and see if Jorran showed. Might be the greycloaks had something time-sensitive for him to do. If he's not around, it can probably wait until you've got your plan ready."

[Jeff the Green]

Mirielle shrugs. "You can come if you want. I'm not terribly worried about it, since we'll be going to a public place. The only reason I'm even bothering is that he showed up as evil. I don't mind, but it's always best to be careful before starting work with people whose auras are stained that way.

She stands up and extends her hand to Aya. "Thank you for helping me with this, Aya. I've got my contacts looking for that quiver you wanted, and I should have it in my hands tomorrow or the next day. If I don't need to talk to you for another reason and you don't need me, I'll deliver it there for you.

"Oh, and I forgot to give you Keeva's and my new address." She writes it down on a scrap of paper dug from her bag then leaves for home.

Once there, she digs out her notes. Something had been bothering her since their conversation, some half-remembered bit of knowledge about races with oddly colored skin. She peruses her notes, scouring them for information of any sort.

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Knowledge (local) regarding Forestlord Elves: (1d20+11)[23] (includes +1 from guidance)
Lore regarding same (if applicable; it seems like it might apply): (1d20+7)[10]

[Sallera]

Aya takes the offered hand with a smile. "I said I'd keep you alive through this, and I intend to do so; don't worry on that regard. I appreciate it, though."

Tucking the address into a cloak pocket, Aya leaves for Ladyrock, passing through the park to check for any sign of Jorran's presence. Finding nothing, she lets the matter lie and returns to the temple.

[Jeff the Green]

The Sixth of Marpenoth

About Town

Mirielle rises early enough to catch Keeva before she leaves for the day. "Keeva," she says. "Would you mind asking the archivists at the High House whether it would be permissible for a non-member to copy books from the library that they find interesting?"

Once outside she draws her cloak around her to guard against the cold wind blowing off the sea. She looks at the note Misti gave her and heads for the next address on the list of suspected arsons.

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I'll roll my day's Gather Info checks all at once, spending at most two on at a single site but moving on if I've got decent but unsuspicious answers from a single check. No magic to augment them today. Edit: So I guess that'll work out that I move on to the third site after the first ~3 hours, have little luck there, and spend the evening at the fourth site.

(1d20+5)[20]
(1d20+5)[12]
(1d20+5)[14]
(1d20+5)[24]

When you get a chance, TFO, I'd also appreciate whatever information I got from the Knowledge checks regarding forestlord elves.

Aya's quiver arrives today or tomorrow; 4 days til I can use Mercantile Background again.

[candycorn]

Sixth of Marpenoth

Alaister wakes up quite a bit earlier than usual, probably due to his rather early evening the night before. Regardless, an early start won't hurt today. After a simple breakfast, he begins his planned tasks.

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First order of business is heading to Misti's. The only other group looking for Cybrarvain was looking through her, and suddenly wound up on his doorstep. He'd rather silence further information given out from that source. He intends to try speaking to her, first.

Spell for the day: Undetectable Aura (on backpack)

Disguise: (1d20+7)[8] (disguised as a pauper, to blend in on the way to Silverscales).

[Sallera]

Place to Place

After her daily check with Dalair to see if anything requiring her attention has come up, Aya sets out to follow up on a few potential leads. She'd been entrusted with a great deal of discretion this time, enough to give the whole matter the feel of a test, but still... she had a clear goal. An objective. That much, at least, was the same as usual. All she had to do was keep chipping away at the problem until she uncovered the bits that made it work. Understand the system... because what you understood, you could take apart.

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More Gathering of Information.
Sarbreen's relative depth (how close to the surface, how far below it): (1d20)[17]
Are Merchant Assembly meeting transcriptions kept? (One assumes they are not a matter of public record, even if so): (1d20)[5]
Spend a few minutes recalling leatherworkers' marks... and look them up again.
Wyrmhoard's leatherwork suppliers: (1d20)[5]
Retry failed checks, only one extra attempt on each: (1d20)[15], (1d20)[15]

[TheFallenOne]

Bitterstone, Watch Station

Awakening with a groan, Jorran finds himself on a hard bed inside a scant room of rough stone containing little else than another five beds, only one of them occupied by an elderly man with a bald patch, currently sleeping. The only exit has a massive metal door, but it is currently open. His wounds have been cleaned and bandaged, shirt and armor removed, letting him feel the cold air despite the blanket. His equipment, evidently sans sword and magical backpack, lie beside the bed.
"Oi, you awake?", a blond watchman in dire need of a shave calls out. "You're in the Watch Station of Bitterstone, picked you up not too far from here last evening. We'd like to know your name and version of what happened, then you can go, unless you want to report a crime of course."

About Town, Mirielle

"Uh, sure. Asking won't hurt. Think we should pick up some book shelves? Wouldn't mind having some useful tomes on hand either."

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You can pick up the quiver today
Forestlord Elves appear more or less randomly, even to 'normal' Elven parents, long as some ancestor of them was a Forestlord Elf themselves. They have the ability to instantly transport from one tree or another and often have magical blood.

There was a fire in Elohnia's Beauty Shop in Swordspoint, run by a woman of the same name renown for her looks. When handling a new experimental perfume, the flask suddenly shattered and combusted. Th fire didn't spread far, but Elohnia sustained serious burns on her hands and part of her face.

Also in Swordspoint, there was a fire in Leaf and Root, a pipe and tobacco shop. His storage caught fir for unknown reasons. Chug, the assistant of the halfling owner, passed out from smoke inhalation trying to put of the fire, but survived. Sabotage or insurance fraud are popular theories.

About town, Aya

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Sarbreen has three levels, the upper one about 90 feet below the city; it varries though, since while Sarbreen is flat by design, the surface isn't. Some of the upper extensions of Sarbreen have been discovered when building cellars.
The city was used as sewer substitute in the old days, though later a separate sewer was built, incorporating some parts of the dwarven city.

Transcripts are kept and a copy delivered to the city for archiving, though not publicly accessible for the most part; their discussions are classified, but official decisions are public record. They sometimes have inoffical meetings to circumvent the requirement of delivering a transcript to the city.

The leatherwork is an import from Calaunt.

Misti Marva's Moonlight Pawnshop

The way to Silverscales seems to have been in vain; a sign on the door to Misti's shop proclaims 'Closed until noon'.

[Jeff the Green]

"Probably a good idea," Mirielle responds. "I'll see about buying some this evening."

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A&EG suggests a price of 6–15 gp for fine furniture. If you agree, TFO, I'll order three to have delivered.

Frustrated at wasting six hours, Mirielle heads to the market, where she orders some bookshelves and picks up Aya's quiver. After delivering to the temple, she heads to the final site.

Finally, after finishing her investigations, she returns to her apartment to prepare for her meeting with Alaister in the morning.

[candycorn]

Near Misti Marva's

Hum. I suppose there's a reason that it's called the Moonlight Pawn Shop. Oh well, there's always something to be learned. Let's look around a bit to kill time.

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Gather Information: (1d20+15)[25]
Gather Information: (1d20+10)[13]

Gathering about Misti Marva first. If I don't get good info, doing it again.
If I get good info, 2nd check is about the pawnshop.

[TheFallenOne]

Candycorn

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Information broker. Lives together with her Elven companion Vanet. Quite knowledgeable about going-ons in the city and the current rumor mill. She is well connected and liked by people in the harbor, but also involved with the high society. Her and Vanet are often invited to revels, and they go either both or none, either as a pair or each with a date.

She lends money with items as collateral and sells stuff not bought back.

[candycorn]

@DM:

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Excellent information. That should take me until after noon, where I can revisit the Pawn Shop.

[Frog Dragon]

Bitterstone, Watch Station

"Well.." Jorran turns to sit down on the side of the bed, rubbing his temples. "I'm Jorran Tolm, a mercenary." He says. "I was attacked by, as far as I can tell, a random staff-wielding maniac. He ambushed me and started asking questions while hitting me with a staff. I answered with my sword, until he disarmed me. After that he knocked me out. He clearly wasn't a random thug, since he was still moving after two solid hits with a two-hander." He looks at his stuff. "I suppose that's a few crimes right there. My bag and sword are missing. I guess he took them." He rummages through the items for his undershirt. It didn't even look very bloodied. The worst of his wounds had been to the head anyway. "How long was I out?"

[TheFallenOne]

Misti Marva's Moonlight Pawnshop

Misti has a big yawn when Alaister enters, but a moment later she suddenly tenses, only fooled by the disguise for a moment. "Are you who I think you are then?" she asks, crossing her arms in front of her. "Showing up with the obvious intent of playing false won't make you many friends, so either drop it or get better at it. What do you want?"

Bitterstone, Watch Station

"All through the night. You fidgeted a little when your wounds were cleaned and dressed, but it didn't wake you up." He picks up a wax tablet to make some notes. "Alright. Give us a physical description of the assailant and we'll see what we can do. What did he ask you anyway? And if your stolen stuff has any easily recognizable marks that will help your chances of getting them back too."

[Frog Dragon]

Bitterstone, Watch Station

"Long black hair, broad shoulders, strangely pale. Chest covered in scars." He lists out. "He kept asking me who the men in black armor and grey cloaks were. He says. "You'd think he could figure that one out for himself.." He continues, muttering. He then continues in a normal tone. "The sword is better worked than average, made in Neverwinter if that means anything. It has a crystal in the pommel, but that can be detached, which he might have done. The bag is an extraplanar space or something like that. Looks like a normal haversack, but things in it don't have weight. It had a full gem bag inside it. Worth 10000 gold." He says, getting up as he pulls his shirt back on. He fully intended to track down the man himself, but if the watch got there first, him having told them about the gems would have reduced the deniability of any guard who got the idea of pawning the gems off for a tidy sum instead.

[TheFallenOne]

Bitterstone, Watch Station

The man suddenly stops writing at the mention of the gembag. "And what kind of gems would that be exactly? Rubies, sapphires, diamonds?"