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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Deuce Traveler" data-source="post: 3051017" data-attributes="member: 34958">"Hmmm... with these Blacksurf types possibly roaming the streets, it would probably be best if we found a safe place to stay, ourselves.  At the same time, I certainly don't want to have to explain my comings and goings to an overzealous city watch.  My name is Doral Easter, formerly of Cyre, and I've seen enough trouble to last me a lifetime.  Any of you ladies or gentleman know of a safe place for us to hole up without being bothered," Doral asks politely, but throws a wink to the ladies.  If one of the women suggests that he spend some money with them to stay the night, he will thank them politely, and promise to return once he gets his friends safely home.  He will then ask where they may be found tonight, since a brothel might be an ironic, but logical place to hide since the madame there will be used to keeping secrets about her clients.Then Doral will start moving back from the direction they came and say, "I hate to cut this short, Carver, but I'm thinking that our mission has been blown, unless there are others here claiming to be Blacksurf men.  We need to get to Morika before the local guard does.  She's helpless in her condition.  What's worse, she's too honest.  We need to carry her and her gear out of the tavern and head out to meet that kobold and the rest."Doral's mind races as he hurries back towards their tavern.  The mission has been blown, and it was time to get out of Port Verge with their hides intact.  For a moment, he fingered his dagger and considered that he might have to cut Morika's throat in order to save her from being captured, tortured for information, and made an example.  The thought disgusted him, but he was ready in case she was immobile.  And what of my employer?  He is the one that asked us to come disguised as Blacksurf agents.  Were we a distraction?  Pawns to be sacrificed as he moved towards a greater target?  A feral beastwoman, an ignorant warforged, a delicate female spellcaster, a kobold with a god-complex, an archer who prefers conflict... and me, a known failure.  If the polite, goodly Parlinor has a darker past, then this group makes sense.  We were bound to be noticed upon entry to Port Verge.  Can it be that we are meant to fail?  Or am I finally becoming paranoid beyond usefulness?  Doral tightens his jaw around such angry thoughts, and begins to think of a plan.</blockquote>

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