Upgrade your account to a Community Supporter account and remove most of the site ads.

Reply to thread

Message: <blockquote data-quote="Arkhandus" data-source="post: 4746137" data-attributes="member: 13966">West Gate PlazaThe injured man mutters "I can only hope....  But what would I pay a ransom with?  They took everything I have of value!"  He moans and sobs a bit more, before finally starting to get ahold of himself.  He sits on the ground for a while, brooding.After several minutes, Evanar runs back into the plaza, huffing and puffing, exhausted from running most of the way both times with little rest.  The others arrive a few moments later, similarly winded but not as badly.  Ellaria and her guardsmen take a moment to catch their breath before approaching Niles' caravan, Fayne, and the wounded man.Storn arrives shortly afterward, slowed by his short dwarven legs, with the Mystran acolyte running beside him and much less fatigued.  Seeing the gathering collection of people near the caravan, the priest jogs forward and stops near the guards, clearing his throat and asking respectfully "Uh, madame Constable, I was told of an injured man here.....may I treat his wounds, or is he under arrest?"Ellaria turns to see the priest and the dwarf, then responds "Go ahead.  But I need to question him."  She faces the injured man again and asks "What's your story then?  Who are you?  How were you injured, how recently, where did it happen, where were you going, and do you have any idea why it happened?"The Mystran acolyte walks around the three guards and inspects the injured man, quickly assessing his wounds and deciding what prayers were required to restore him to good health.  The priest intones a short prayer to Mystra for merciful magic, and places a hand on the injured man's forehead.  Silvery light flickers around his hand and snakes down into the wounds, mending the flesh.  The acolyte then steps back and waits off to the side, as the once-wounded man sighs in momentary relief and mutters "Praise Mystra!"Then his face turns pained and sorrowful again, and he recounts his tale for the guards, overheard by everyone else in the plaza.  He stutters and chokes back fresh tears a few times during the retelling, but manages to maintain some dignity this time around.  He starts off by introducing himself as Rickard Chandler, a candlemaker from Velarsburg in northern Harrowdale.  His wife recently died of illness, and his business was lagging, especially with his current state of mind, so he and his son Eckhart packed up their belongings, sold what they could, and left for Harrowdale Town to find a ship to someplace different, where they could try for a new start.He describes the gnoll attack, much as he explained to Fayne and Niles several minutes ago.  A few gnolls sprang at his horse from the bushes as he followed an old trail through the western edges of the Velarswood, and in the brief chaos that followed, one or two other gnolls tore him and his son out of the cart.  They clawed and snapped at the two of them, slobbering and cackling, and maybe there were one or two more digging through his possessions in the cart, but he's not sure, it all happened so fast and was so terrifying.It was so surprising to be attacked in broad daylight like that, hardly a few hours past dawn, and for whatever reason, they let Rickard scramble away and flee while they continued pillaging his cart, slaughtering the horse as it brayed and shrieked, and beating or mauling his son.  He was so consumed with fright, and so certain that they'd catch him if he stopped running to look back, that he just kept running, then jogging, then staggering in exhaustion, until he got here.  It was just a few miles out from Harrowdale Town, maybe an hour or two ago, he's not sure, he's just so worn out from running in terror.Abrielle arrives as the man is finishing his story, catching only the last few sentences.  Ellaria is quiet for a few moments as she considers the story.OOC: Apologies for waiting so long to post.  Oops.</blockquote>

Verification