Kavonde

| Human Bard/Cathartic Mage 2 HP 26/26 | AC 17 | Fort +5 | Ref +6 | Will +8 | Perception +8 | Hero Points 1 Focus Points 3/3 | Spell Slots (1st - 2/3) | Class DC 18 Visualizing the space they're in and acting on a hunch, Armen moves to the little chamber between the dormitory and the storage room and begins investigating the walls there for any secret buttons or switches or pressure plates or what have you. After all, if one were building a presumably underground bunker, why would you dig out more stone than you absolutely needed to? Why have all this empty space in the middle of the complex? As he searches, he hums to himself, that could potentially aid the efforts of his companions in their own searches. OOC I moved Armen on Roll20, and he'll be doing a Search action (Perception +7) in this li'l corridor down south. He'll also be using Uplifting Overture to potentially Aid anyone else rolling Perception within 60' of him.

- LG Tiny Poppet (Toy) Cleric of Mazludeh 1 HP 16/16 | FP 1/1 | Fort +4 | Ref +5 | Will +9 | Perception +7 (Darkvision) | Speed 25' Status Effects: None | Spell Effects: None | Spells Prepared: 1st Rank: Heal, Bless, Sanctuary Nyoka clings to Szasz's shawl for dear life as she dips into a deep bow towards Xhokan. She tries very hard not to give the snake-girl an offended look, reminding herself that Szasz is being very nice by letting Nyoka ride around on her shoulder and it's understandable if she forgets about the poppet's presence every now and then. As they position themselves at the door, ready to breach and clear, Nyoka prepares to scramble down off of Szasz so that she can position herself more effectively to herd the pugwampis. She hangs off Szasz's sleeve like a Red Mantis assassin about to strike from above, a bell the size of her head hanging from her hand. "Ready," she announces in a tiny, determined voice.

DYNAHEIR | HP 32/32 | AC 15 | Initiative +2 | Passive Perception 12 | Rages Remaining 3 "He was a good man in a place where it seems very difficult to be one," Dyna says solemnly. She looks to where the silent riders sat, frowning. Then she turns back to Ireena and Ismark and nods respectfully to them. "And he raised two children who also strive to be good in this dark place. A noble legacy to leave behind."

| HP 17/17 | AC 16 | Initiative +3 | Passive Perception 11 Spell Slots: 1st: 4/4 | 2nd: 2/2 Active Effects: N/A Gaerzil, walking out of the guard tower providing access to the wall, crosses his arm across his chest and taps his chin thoughtfully. "The victim was caught unawares, some time before Deepnight. The culprit then drew these symbols, which are Infernal runes reading 'for the fallen' and what appears to be an attempt at the unholy symbol of the archdevil Zariel, in the victim's fresh blood. He or she then ascended the wall, likely with the aid of magic, judging by the lack of footprints. Once there, they cleaned their boots in a nearby puddle, concealing any further trail they may have left." He turns to examine the body again. "I think it's safe to assume this has something to do with the devil cults we've been dealing with." He looks at the Artful Dodger and raises an eyebrow in a silent "I told you so." The black-and-white cat rolls its eyes and goes back to licking its paws. "So, we can likely rule out most practitioners of divine magic, since jump, levitate, dimension door and so on are generally the domain of arcane spellcasters like myself, or perhaps the occasional druid or ranger, though... not many of them are likely to worship devils. Of course, anyone familiar with casting spells from scrolls or armed with the right potions could also manage such an escape, so..." He shrugs, spreading his hands. "The only conclusion we can draw from the evidence at hand is that the killer has access to magic through some means or another, which narrows it down to just, say, two-thirds of the city's population or so."

- LG Tiny Poppet (Toy) Cleric of Mazludeh 1 HP 16/16 | FP 1/1 | Fort +4 | Ref +5 | Will +9 | Perception +7 (Darkvision) | Speed 25' Status Effects: None | Spell Effects: None | Spells Prepared: 1st Rank: Heal, Bless, Sanctuary Nyoka enjoys being carried around on Szasz's shoulder quite a bit. Though she doesn't really get tired of walking, she always does feel a bit ridiculous having to take six steps for each of her classmates' one. Not to mention having to look up everyone's noses all the time. Following up on Szasz' words and Adalet's suggestion about nets, Nyoka adds: "Most importantly, silver bells. Pugwampis hate the sound. We may be able to drive them away from the school without hurting them. One for each of us should do nicely, o?"

| HP 17/17 | AC 16 | Initiative +3 | Passive Perception 11 Spell Slots: 1st: 4/4 | 2nd: 2/2 Active Effects: N/A Gaerzil sighs. Another murder investigation? It was either a simple mugging and they were wasting their time, or it has something to do with the damned devil cults. What was the likelihood of there being a third, entirely unrelated conspiracy for them to become embroiled in? Significantly higher than this being related to your ongoing problems, the Artful Dodger tells him, perched on a shelf nearby and idly cleaning his paws. Well, objectively, yes, Gaerzil admits, but come on. There's some mysterious fiendish spirit flitting about that can possess people and bears our caravan a particular grudge. That's to say nothing of all the other cults that apparently exist. How many dark cults can one city possibly play host to? Yes, I doubt the Sharrans appreciate the competition. What? What? Gaerzil glares at the fey feline, then takes his turn examining the letter for any clues. Once he's had a look, he joins the others in visiting the crime scene and combing it for clues.

| Human Bard/Cathartic Mage 2 HP 26/26 | AC 17 | Fort +5 | Ref +6 | Will +8 | Perception +8 | Hero Points 1 Focus Points 3/3 | Spell Slots (1st - 2/3) | Class DC 18 Myrthe's departure leaves Armen alone to stew in his thoughts. He stands there, idly pretending to examine the wall for awhile as he regains control of his emotional state. Now isn't the time for mooning over lost love. They're trapped in a dungeon. The Princess may still be in danger. They need to get out of here. When Ka begins testing the switches to see which rooms they illuminate, Armen quietly heads off into the barracks room to the southwest. "On!" he calls when the light turns on. "Off!" when it goes dark. He wanders over to the unopened door in the southeast corner of the room and presses his ear against it. Assuming he doesn't hear anythingPerception roll at +7 on the other side, he opens it to see what lies beyond.

DYNAHEIR | HP 32/32 | AC 15 | Initiative +2 | Passive Perception 12 | Rages Remaining 3 Dynaheir volunteers to be a pallbearer immediately, taking the front corner of the casket and holding more than her fair share. The emergence of the wolves makes her wish she had a weapon she could bear with a single hand; she might be able to manage her greatsword, but it would be awkward and cumbersome with the burgomeister's coffin on her shoulder. She eyes the wolves warily, focusing her attention on them despite the intimidating pair of figures on the hill above. Proximity generally dictates threat, after all. The ominousness of their situation makes her uncharacteristically cautious, and when Joliet launches her taunts at the distant figures, Dyna has to fight a reflex to cover her mouth with her hand. "Perhaps we should wait to taunt the villains and their massive pack of wolves until we have both hands free?" She glances back up at the distant pair of riders. "Though it is a very impressive horse."

| HP 17/17 | AC 16 | Initiative +3 | Passive Perception 11 Spell Slots: 1st: 4/4 | 2nd: 2/2 Active Effects: N/A Gaerzil raises an eyebrow at Rivalen's advice. "Get the crowd on my side? I'm a wizard, not a street performer. If I need the crowd on my side, I'll get them there by displaying power and competence." He's happy to let Hravin handle the Flaming Fists' questions, and he mostly remains silent as the others return and events resolve themselves. Their victory is complete and there doesn't seem to be any further need for his talents, so he simply observes the proceedings... and helps search the bodies of the slain cultists, just in case they have any coin secreted away. The next day, they're summoned to the Flaming Fist's barracks at the Basilisk Gate. Gaerzil doesn't do much to hide his annoyance. He doesn't particularly appreciate being lumped in as with the Lords' Alliance, nor does he appreciate being summoned when he could certainly find something more productive to do with his morning. The Artful Dodger pads along behind him, seeming quite amused at his grumpiness. At the question of who Segren Hall is, Gaerzil shrugs. "The unconscious man? I pulled him out of a burning barn myself. He'd been kicked in the head by a horse and still hasn't roused. I'm no doctor, but I suspect it's unlikely he ever will."

- LG Tiny Poppet (Toy) Cleric of Mazludeh 1 HP 16/16 | FP 1/1 | Fort +4 | Ref +5 | Will +9 | Perception +7 (Darkvision) | Speed 25' Status Effects: None | Spell Effects: None | Spells Prepared: 1st Rank: Heal, Bless, Sanctuary "I could go," Nyoka volunteers. "I'm sure if we explain the situation to Xhokan, he'll agree to lend us the bells. No reasonable person would demand money for such a thing, especially if it's for the good of the school." If the tiny poppet is being even the tiniest bit sarcastic, there's not a trace of it on her sincere little face.

DYNAHEIR | HP 32/32 | AC 15 | Initiative +2 | Passive Perception 12 | Rages Remaining 3 Dyna, who has stayed unusually quiet during this debate about what to do with Doru, gives a decisive nod when both Sulimann and Bram throw their support behind the idea of dealing with Doru before he can break loose and harm others. "If Doru was a hero, he would rather have died one than become a monster. I know I would." She moves to stand beside the others who have voted to end the man's suffering. "It is cruel and heartless, what we must do. But the truly cruel and heartless one is the man who forced this choice upon us. When we tear his castle down and firmly apply boots to his wretched backside, Doru's name will be on my lips. And perhaps written on my footwear."

| HP 17/17 | AC 16 | Initiative +3 | Passive Perception 11 Spell Slots: 1st: 3/4 | 2nd: 1/2 Active Effects: N/A Seeing Keryn sprinting off after the fleeing cultists and nearly skewering their leader with a savage thrust of his rapier, and seeing Gwen capably drop one of the other cultists with a nonlethal blow for later questioning, Gaerzil smirks and extends his hand towards the cultist fanatic and casts magic missile, three bolts of crackling blue force arcing out to unerringly track the would-be escapee and end his wretched life. "Well, that was bracing," he says to Rivalen, turning to face his former master without bothering to watch to make sure his missiles fell their target. "Say, I don't suppose I could get a discount on copying a few spells from your spellbook, could I? I'd quite like to expand my arsenal of elemental damage types." OOC Throwing a level 1 magic missile at the Cultist Fanatic to hopefully finish him off.

| Human Bard/Cathartic Mage 2 HP 26/26 | AC 17 | Fort +5 | Ref +6 | Will +8 | Perception +8 | Hero Points 1 Focus Points 3/3 | Spell Slots (1st - 2/3) | Class DC 18 Armen nearly jumps out of his skin when the masked woman appears behind him. He whips around, staring at her in surprise and confusion. “You think yourself so charismatic," she tells him, "yet you cannot even wrap your tongue around my name. Ka…Mhet. Ka’Mhet. It is not this ‘comet’.” Armen's mouth opens and closes a few times. He actually doesn't think he's very charismatic, but that's not something he wants to announce in front of Myrthe. Or Lori, for that matter. Or Hrotha... or Iris. In fact, Greyrose is probably the only person here he'd be comfortable admitting that to, primarily because the man already knows him well enough to have picked up on that insecurity. He watches silently as Ka'Mhet and Hrotha begin to walk away and falls into step beside Myrthe as they advance. The elven woman's next words surprise him, and he looks at her. As hard as she is to read, he thinks he sees sincerity in her eyes. She didn't abandon me by choice, then. And that simple realization is enough to shift his entire perspective on the situation between them. He always knew how committed she was to the Morilla family. Of course her duty to them would have come before any feelings she may or may not have had for him. He sighs and looks away. "You could have said something. Anything. I thought... I thought you had just gotten tired of me." After a moment, he looks back at Myrthe, searching her face for any of the subtle signs of emotion she could never quite suppress. Then he raises his glowing violin bow and turns to follow Hrotha and Ka further into the well-appointed labyrinth they've been trapped in.

- LG Tiny Poppet (Toy) Cleric of Mazludeh 1 HP 16/16 | FP 1/1 | Fort +4 | Ref +5 | Will +9 | Perception +7 (Darkvision) | Speed 25' Status Effects: None | Spell Effects: None | Spells Prepared: 1st Rank: Heal, Bless, Sanctuary "Well, wait, if the chickens lay so few eggs, wouldn't it be better to give them all to Miss Bisola?" Nyoka asks. She's been silent for awhile, content to ride along on Szasz's shoulder and take in the sights. The world is so much easier to navigate from up high! So enjoyable was the experience of actually being able to see peoples' faces instead of up their noses, the little poppet didn't want to remind anyone of her presence in case they asked her to go back to walking on her own two legs. Now that they're back in their dormitory, though, Nyoka feels safe asserting herself again. "After all, if she has more chickens, they can lay more eggs. If they lay more eggs, she can have more chickens. And that way, future students won't end up having to break school rules to go illegally buy more chickens." She puts her tiny fists on her hips and glares disapprovingly up at Haibram.

The young man who'd been watching the gathering of so many prestigious personages nods enthusiastically at Isabella's words. "I would be very appreciative, sir," Gustavus Sotherngard says, looking at Mbe-Jethehyp. "We don't often host professional storytellers in Whitepeak. I'd be very grateful to hear your tales." He looks around at the older faces that have gathered him, most of them wielding far more power and prestige than he ever will even when he one day becomes Duke, and tries to hide his embarrassment at his statement. I must sound like such a provincial rube, he laments. "Well, we have the Clearies-- ah, I mean, the Clearsky Collective. The philosophers and artists? They come to Greatpine to give lectures sometimes. They're very informative, but..." He smiles sheepishly. "Well, they're not particularly entertaining."