[slight edit]
>Grogan smiles as his horse comes about. He rummages through its saddlebags for a quick moment and not sure of the status of either assailant, drops to Carfal a set of manacles appropriately sized for [his] downed opponent. After distributing the manacles, the barbarian redraws his sword and says "Lets clean this up people. Chain'em up and lets get to the interrogation part." He happily nods at the efficiency of it all.
>Carfal sketches a salute to Grogan, and proceeds to bind the woman's hands behind her back, and takes a firm grip on the chain. Leaning over to catch the captive's eye, he clears his throat and says, "Quite sorry about all this, but, well, you leave us precious little choice, you know?"
The woman, still under a -hold person-, makes no sound, and not even a betraying flicker of her eyelids.
>Arriving at the scene, Logan slows down examining the body (in case he is just drugged, acting or some such), although it's more of a confirmation. He is careful, though and his back are to the wall as he scans neaby buildings.
>After he is fairly sure that no threat is imminent, he looks over the body and around it. Is there anything that could be clue as to the origin and/or affiliation of the halfling? Did Logan see before or knows the meaning of the mask?
>Finally grabs the halfling by the scruff of his neck and carries him back to the rest of the group.
After a moment of recollection (and a high roll), Logan seems to remember hearing about halflings and kukiris... ah, yes, the Dancers. Fighter-rogues that are little more than brigands feeding off the corpse of this long-lawless city. "One dance with a Dancer is all you get," is their motto...
...and no... the halfling isn't quite dead yet, but unconscious and bleeding all over. His arm looks broken, and maybe his hip, and probably some broken ribs. Frothy blood is dribbling out the corner of his mouth.
>Kosj, still rather confused about the odd battle that just took place, glides gracefully to the spot from which the halfling archer tumbled down just moments ago. The small maroon dragon's talons clack lightly on the slate tiles of the rooftop as it lands delicately. Snaking its head around, Kosj examines the area with both magic and mundane means (Search -1, taking 20 if possible, detect magic) for clues as to the small man's identity or how he managed to climb up here in the first place, before peeking over the edge of the roof to the dwarf and halfling far below.
The dragon sees a few things: a discarded glass vial laying open and on its side, a broken crossbow quarrel, two other quarrels stuck point-down into the roof, and the hilt of a small sword or dagger in a corner. The handle radiates magic.
As far as getting there, the building seems very climbable to someone with enough bravery and skill...
>Once the woman is Manacled, Kevin bodily lifts her and walks over to the lord, glancing up. "Is that small dragon with you? it doesn't seem to be one of the assassins.. OH, my apologies. I am Kevin Kull, My lord, it is a pleasure to have been a part of foiling this assassination." He smiles and bows slightly, dropping the woman to the ground at the guards' feet.
Ashchenon smiles. "And luck is on my side, too, to meet you today! See, Captain, this city isn't all that bad. Not a Chandlerscross, mind you, but..."
The Tempus-guard grunts and indicates down the street where Logan is dragging the halfling's body back towards them. "Really? Where is the other one, the one in leather that I saw climbing?"
But the Lord is looking over to the unfolding scene nearby, especially the birthmark on the chest of the half-orc. He frowns. "Interesting..." he says, then turns back to Kevin. "Are you all together? Your group must join me for a formal dinner at the Keep tonight. A thank you, and a chance for some quiet chat. Formal attire, of course."
>Seeing a potential new threat in the flying draconic individual, Garren sights his arrow on it and shouts, You there! Land and explain yourself, or you'll share the halfling's fate!
If the creature does anything but glide peacefully to the ground he'll shoot.
>Grogan makes his way towards Garren to provide him cover and levels his sword to the 'little dragon of the clacking feet' and says "Speak your intent reptile."
>The barbarian hefts his massive shield in a good place ready to shelter himself and partially Garren from a great blast from its potentially fiery breath as he watches the intently searching little draconic creature for any aggressive intent.
[and the DM grabs a chair here and reaches for the popcorn]
