We decide that a covert approach is best. Skit’s unrivaled knowledge of sewers everywhere comes into excellent play and we find ourselves at a door underground, bearing the seal of Olidammara, the Laughing Rogue.
Skit, seeming the most dissarming of all of us says she’ll go in and scout out the guy. We agree to this reluctantly, but Skit’s shown her capabilities a dozen times over now. There’s silence down in the sewers for quite a while, from the other side of the door there’s muffled conversation, mutterings and gentle talk.
Then a man’s voice pipes up loudly informing them all they’ve got a guest, a young girl who’s needing a place to stay. He encourages the people there to keep their strength up in this place. I may be prone to snap judgements, but anyone who takes in homeless people and encourages those under his care to maintain their strength is a good man in my mind.
A straightforward approach is in order, and to the front door we go.
Alas, appearances once again prove dissapointing. After explaining the situation to him, he calls everyone to arms and a fight breaks out. I remember reaching for my magic when a dart or something slipped through the plates in my armour. It all went dark.
When I woke up a few hours later I discovered that Skiriel had been killed, by “a giant rat”, and that a good few of the Olidammarans had died. This whole situation was a god awful mess that could have been avoided with more careful planning and a more delicate approach, and one of my extended family is dead because of it.
Whilst I was brooding over this, Skit came up to me and talked about it. She seemed disturbed and apologised, her reasoning that he was free now, that where he was now was better than where he had been before. It still tastes foul in my throat when I think about it, but whilst she may not be right, she is not wrong.
Carceri leaves more weary with every passing day. Both of body and of mind, I look forward to solving this whole mess with Lukan and escaping.
Theres a woman identified as the one torturing Skiriel. Sevastian manages to convince her (and thus everyone else who’s looking to her for direction) that the death was an odd fluke.
After sorting out the olidammarans, we returned to Meerthan. He’s understanding and doesn’t seem to fussed by the loss of 25% of the known Church of Fharlanghn on this plane.
Rest now, tomorrow may be an improvement.