Reply to thread

Message: <blockquote data-quote="Dr Simon" data-source="post: 4779227" data-attributes="member: 21938">CrispinKhadmeade scratches his beard."Hmm...," he muses, then at the top of his lungs bellows "Kester!"The meaning of this outburst shortly becomes evident, clearly the name of the young teenage boy who come running."What you want, boss?" asks the boy."This gentleman is lookin' fer a friend o' his, laddie," says the dwarf. "Pathfinder by the name o' Malacia Thrune, Chelish lass wi' broon hair. She was investigatin' Lamm, did ye see her when ye were working' for him?"Kester ponders. "Giggles done in some Chelish bird, she had one of them funny compasses. We fenced it with old Harmsworth, he reckoned it was one of them Pathfinder ones.""It would seem that yer friend was another o' Lamm's victims," says Khadmeade. "I'm sorry to gie ye tha' news. This 'Giggles' were a brute o' a half-orc worked fae Lamm, he's currently in Citadel Volshyenek waitin' fae trial. Maybe if ye slipped a few coin to Field Marshal Kroft she's let ye torture him a bit, ay?"Kester looks aggrieved. "You wouldn't let me have a go at Hookshanks, and he killed my brother.""Wheesht laddie," says Khadmeade. "This young fella know's I'm only jokin'". He looks sternly at Crispin. "Doesn't he?""Zanderholm," says Kester. "Zenobia Zanderholm. That's who the woman was working for. She's the Hanging Judge, maybe she could tell you more."</blockquote>