"We will talk about your situation later, when we will plan our moves. Now is better concentrate on what's going on here", says Quasar to Kevon softening his tone a little bit.
The magician then speaks to the other members of the group: "Better if you guys have a closer look at the other rooms. I'll go downstairs and ask the barmaid if they have spare keys in case some of the doors are locked".
He will do what he just said, then rejoin the party.
As Quasar walks down the stairs, a loud thumping sounds from the door. "Open up for the Defenders!" A gruff voice shouts.
The barmaid is at the table with Riley, she jumps up and motions Quasar to go back to the hallway, then she heads for the door.
Out of Game: To Zed and Arathriel (who have both been in town for at least a few days)
The Defenders of Truth are a militant order, dedicated to the absolute eradication of all evil. Most normal folks think they go too far, though it can be dangerous to say so out loud.
Byron Tubthumper - You sit in a room you've never seen before, nor do you remember anything of coming to this place. Your arms rest on an oak table, finely polished and slightly reflective, and you sit in a beautifully carved chair. A silver chalice sits on the table next to you, a deep red wine filled almost to overflowing. The walls of the room are some sort of blueish grey stone you've never seen before, and the tiled floor is mosaicked as a Dragon in flight.
A man sits across the table from you. He is wearing a conical hat, and white lace spills from his chin and from the cuffs of his black coat. His face is shrouded in shadow, though the room behind him is clearly visible.
"Just imagine it. One million gold pieces. You could become anything you wanted, with that much money. You could become a king, maybe even Emperor someday. Imagine it. Emperor Byron Tubthumper, the Lord of Halflings. Or perhaps a different kind of glory? You could be a hero, and when people see you, they will smile and exult your name. People would throw themselves at you, seeking only to touch the hem of your cloak or the leather of your boot, and they would feel joyous just from that accomplishment. You could be worshipped, as a God, even. Imagine it." He smiles, and his teeth gleam in the darkness that shrouds his face. "I can help you, this I swear. Here. " A parchment suddenly appears in front of you on the table, and a quill and ink. "Simply sign your name, and all of your dreams can come true. You will be not only accepted, but loved, and worshipped. All you have to do is sign." His grin deepens.
Out of Game: Byron is now in game. Feel free to begin posting here, Byron.
"We should split up guys, us three and Kevon should move to a different room in case The Defenders try anything we have the jump on them, and we don't want to look guilty standing in a room with a dead body." Zed says.
Byron looks pensively at the man for a long while, both as a way to try and impress him and a way to gather his senses before attempting to respond. He also looks down at the paper in an attempt to read anything that might be written therein. He finally speaks, in a tone designed to annoy the opposing man (it lies somewhere between utter sarcasm, condescending, and patiently annoyed):
"I will admit, your offer is extremely tempting. However, I don't want to rush to any kind of hasty decisions on something of this magnitude. I don't know how exactly I will feel about this in two weeks, what if my morals kick in? I need a bit more explanation of what exactly I'm signing up for, you know what I mean? I have a living to keep up! I hope you understand."
Quasar heads back to the hallway, slightly confused by the barmaid evident uneasiness. "Defenders?", he wonders to himself. He heads back to the room where the group was and announces: "Looks like somebody called the guards". Expecting troubles and an endless amount of questions, the magician gets back to the hallway and tries the first door just in front of that of the dead man room.