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Message: <blockquote data-quote="CanadienneBacon" data-source="post: 3601290" data-attributes="member: 11146">Kaeleen heads south to grab her pack.  Inspecting the contents of her backpack, she finds that while everything is accounted for, it's all in a jumble.  Someone has very obviously riffled through her belongings; judging by the smell, a not-very-clean someone.  The two other packs are much smaller than hers.  One contains a clasped leather journal with a large celtic knot tooled on the front, along with two eagle feathers sharpened as quills, a vial of green ink, and a vial of black ink that has cracked, spilling its contents all over the inside of pack and over the leather journal, and quite recently; when Kaeleen sets the pack down, her fingers come away stained black with ink.  The second pack has a pair of breeches, belt, and overtunic for a small-sized creature and perhaps three days' worth of hard tack rations for overland travel.  There is, additionally, a bullseye lantern and two pints of oil inside the bottom of the second pack.With Grotzkoshter keeping a watchful eye to the north and also on Meepo, Karl steps up beside Elyan and fingers the padlock on the exterior of the cell door.  Inserting a slim implement into the lock's hole and giving nothing more than jerk and a twist, Karl soon has the lock off the handle.  When everyone has readied themselves, Karl pulls open the door.  Inside is a young man, bound hand and foot, lying in a fetid pool of reeking urine and, judging by the stains on his pants, his own feces.  A brown crockery bowl has been kicked to the side nearest the door, out of which spills a mash of grey maggot-infested gruel.  From the abuse the young man has suffered as is evidenced by multiple facial bruises, infected cuts and scrapes, and a puffy left eye, the color of his hair and eyes is absolutely indeterminate.  When the door is opened and light is shed into his narrow cell, the human quickly closes his good right eye to ward away the fierce intrusion of torchlight, but groans nonetheless, flopping his head back down onto the dank floor.  Whomever has held this young man captive in the cell has stripped him of all accoutrement, save for his pants and a heavily blood-soaked undertunic.</blockquote>

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