Ran threatens the man before considering a grapple... then realizes the mercenary is out cold from Meili's beatings.  

[Back out of initiative for now.  30 seconds before the guard on the roof comes out of his trance.  The mercenaries inside have so far made no move to emerge.]

Ran picks up the unconscious mercenary and heads behind the boulders and wall to the northeast, to find a spot where they can deal with their prisoner out of sight of the guard post.

Once there he'll quickly tie up the mercenary, then if there's time, and assuming that Eryndor (and the rest of the group) moves also, he looks at the newcomer.

"So, I'm guessing you didn't just happen to be out for a nice walkabout in the rain when you came across us," Ran says to Eryndor. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

Eryndor follows to help or keep lookout if necessary, trying his best to keep behind the boulders (Stealth check: 16)

Eryndor leans casually against the moss-covered stone, arms crossed over his chest as he watches the fighter secure the unconscious mercenary with swift, practiced efficiency. The rain whispers through the jungle canopy above, pattering against the broken stone of the ruins, but Eryndor seems unfazed, his sharp green eyes studying his newfound companion with quiet amusement.

"A fair question, and one most oft asked with suspicion when posed in such settings," he replies, his voice lilting with the cadence of old ballads and forgotten courts. "Alas, mine is not a tale of simple wanderlust, nor did the gods conspire that I should chance upon you purely by fate’s whim."

He casts a glance toward the distant guard post, ever mindful of lurking threats, before continuing, "I am Eryndor Valehart, once of fairer lands than these, though time and tide have seen fit to make of me a vagabond. A trick of fate—or folly—saw me stolen away to the Feywild, where the moon’s light whispers and the air is thick with riddles and revelry. When I returned to this plane, lo and behold, a century had fled past me like a startled hare, and I found myself cast upon this forsaken jungle, far from home and all I once knew."

He lets that settle for a breath, then shrugs with an easy smile, tapping a rhythmic beat against the hand drum at his side. "And so, here I linger, searching for passage from these sun-scorned ruins, all the while keeping a wary eye upon the intrigues of yuan-ti and mercenary alike. When first I glimpsed your plight, I thought it only fitting that I lend my hand—for surely any souls who stand 'gainst both serpent and sellblade cannot be all bad, hm?"

Eryndor straightens, flicking the damp hair from his eyes as he gestures broadly at the jungle around them. "And thus, good warrior, we come to this moment. You with your captive, and I with my riddles. Now tell me, do we remain allies? Or must I compose an elegy ere the night is done?"

A playful smirk flickered at the corner of his lips, but his gaze held a keen edge, ever watching for the fighter’s response.

Ran listens to Eryndor speak without interrupting him, checking on the knots securing the captive while he does.

""So you're an actor," Ran concludes, more statement than question. "At least you've got some magic in you. You got my vote. We'll help you get out of here, but we've got some business to take care of first."

Ran points out a brightly coloured bird with a fair bit of attitude watching them from one of the nearby trees.

"Pretty sure that's my sister," Ran says. "I'm hoping to find away to turn her back but more importantly, I've a wayward spoiled brat to retrieve and drag back to his father. He's probably down in one of these temples. The others here, well they've got their reasons for slogging through this dunny of a jungle. Something about a death curse, though I think Mica there's just looking to bag himself one of those giant lizards."

He turns his attention back to the prisoner.

"We're hoping one of these mercs knows what happened to all the magic key stones from the little temples. If we find those we might find out what's going on here."

[After 30 seconds, you hear the guard on the rooftop begin shouting after his missing companion, but you are all well out of sight.  Other than a few solitary snakes who were slower to depart than the rest of their mass of coiled cousins, you have the bushes and rocks to yourselves for now and are able to use ropes to bind this prisoner.  He will be unconscious for 1 hour unless you do something to wake him up.

Other than that, feel free to continue with introductions and RP for as long as you like.]

Meili followed Ran behind the boulders, casting one last glance at the rooftop before they vanished from sight. She crouched near the unconscious captive as Ran tied him up, absently checking the knots with a practiced eye before turning her attention to Eryndor. His story was as theatrical as his manner - half mystery, half embellishment - but she suspected there was truth woven into the flourishes. The Feywild. A century lost. It explained the strangeness about him, though in this place, what - or who - wasn’t strange?

She glanced at the mercenary, then at Ran. "Want me to wake him? We have herbs that could help. He’ll talk easier while he’s still groggy."

Meili looked back at Eryndor. "Glad you picked us over the snakes. Though you might’ve been safer with the mercs. We’re not leaving this place - we’re going deeper. Straight toward whatever’s causing the Death Plague."

She paused, realizing how dramatic that sounded - especially to someone who had supposedly missed a hundred years of history. "Let’s just say it’s bad. Really bad. We think the source is here. It’s as deadly as the curse itself, and we’re heading straight for it." She tilted her head slightly. "Still want to stay?"

(If the merc went unconscious without Stunning Strike - last ki will be spent instead on "Hand of healing" for 4 HP. If Stunning Strike was used - Meili will use healer's kit for 9 HP)

Mica leans against a boulder, head barely sticking out of cover and looking back in the direction of the mercenary outpost as the shouts of the remaining guard rise through the jungle. “We should have some time, the snakes likely rattled them.  Probably only 4-5 left over there, eh Meili?”  Mica places the positions of the guards he saw in the outpost in his mind and tries to do the mental math.

He turns to the new arrival. “You got dropped off here, in the middle of the blasted jungle and 100 years after you left? Someone has a twisted idea of a joke.  Glad for your help back there.  I’m Mica.  We can get you out of the jungle once we finish our work here.”  He pauses "How long did you say you have you been kicking around these ruins? See any sign of that big meat eater they call the King of Feathers up north of here?"

Mica bends over the unconscious mercenary and quickly goes through the guards belongings, seeing if he has any useful items or information tucked away before they wake him up.

Ran nods when Meili suggests waking the mercenary. "Once Mica finishes picking his pockets clean, yeah, use the herbs and let's get some answers."

Mica is able to remove a longsword, a shortsword, two daggers, a canteen of freshwater, and a leather pouch full of more Cormyr Company pay slips [totaling about 240gp] from the mercenaries person before Meili uses the healers kit to rouse him.

The man coughs, bleary-eyed, before taking stock of his surroundings.  He looks from Meili, to Mica, to Eryndor, and finally to Ran.  In the pounding rain, he sighs.  "You have me bound and disarmed.  Who are you, strangers?  What are you doing out here in this gods-forsaken jungle?"

Eryndor:

"Best not to worry about who we are and what we're doing. We just want a wee bit of information and we'll be on our way." Ran says. "Where have you lot been taking all the little key cubes from the temples?"

Eryndor inclined his head slightly as Ran spoke, his sharp green eyes flicking toward the brightly colored bird. A knowing smirk played at his lips, though whether it was for the casual way Ran called him an actor or the absurdity of a transformed sibling was unclear.

"Ah, a tale of curses, lost heirs, and monstrous beasts—truly, I have wandered into the heart of an epic." He gave a flourishing half-bow. "And thou wouldst cast me in the role of companion? Very well. I shall see this play through, for what is an actor but a fool with purpose?" His smirk softened slightly. "And, truth be told, I find myself rather invested in its players."

He turned next to Meili, nodding at her grim explanation of the Death Plague. His mirth faded, replaced by something more serious—an expression that hinted at a man who had seen the weight of time shift in ways few could understand.

"Aye, I have chosen thee over the serpents. It is the better folly, I think." His voice lost none of its rhythm, but there was a steel beneath it now. "And safer with the mercenaries? I think not. Men who kill for coin have no love for oaths, and I have little love for treachery. Besides, I have seen too much of death to make it my ally."

He tilted his head, studying her with a thoughtful expression. "This curse… it is no ordinary blight, is it?" He exhaled, as if coming to a decision. "Very well. I shall walk this path with thee, though I cannot yet say where it shall end."

At Mica’s words, Eryndor gave a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Indeed, a most twisted jest. One I am not entirely laughing at." He tapped his fingers idly against the side of his lute before offering a slight shrug. "I have dwelt in these ruins for but two days—long enough to learn the ways of shadows, yet not so long as to claim mastery of them."

He glanced toward the north, his brow furrowing ever so slightly. "But that which thou callest the King of Feathers—aye, I have not seen it, but I  might have heard its song in the night. A great, monstrous roar, the sound of a beast that would rather not be met." His fingers ceased their tapping. "If thou seekest it, then I wish thee courage, for I suspect it shall not grant thee mercy."

With that, he leaned back against the ruin’s crumbling wall, folding his arms across his chest. "So then, I ask thee in return—what is the next step in this grand folly of ours?"

The man looks up at Ran, weighing his options.

"Look, I'm a dead man - or worse -  if the Thayans think I betrayed them.  If I tell you anything, you need to promise me you'll let me go, and not tell anyone who you heard it from... deal?"

Mica piles up all the gear in front of the mercenary, out of reach, and kneels down as he goes through it “Nothing much here that will help us, no maps, no orders. More of these useless paper money slips though.”  He looks up as Ran questions the man. “No worries, lad, just answer the questions. We won’t tell the red wizards anything.”  

Meili shrugged, nodded to the mercenary, and looked at Ran. "I don't see any problem with that."

The whole ordeal - the wound, the rain, the darkness, even the newcomer's words, as plentiful as the downpour - made her a little queasy. She wanted at least this part of the struggle to be over with.

Ran nods his agreement.

"Just don't lie to us mate," Ran says. "These ones here have magic to tell when that happens. Then we'd have to tell everyone about you helping us."

The mercenary sits slumped against the damp stone road, his hands bound before him, his clothes soaked through from the relentless storm.  A fresh welt darkens one side of his face, his lip split from Meili's fists.  His breathing is uneven, more from fear than exertion.  His eyes flick between his captors, searching their faces for any sign they might go back on their word.

Lightning cracks across the sky, momentarily illuminating the ruined city around them.  He exhales sharply, glancing toward the storm-ravaged heavens as if gauging whether to speak.  Then, in a low voice—just loud enough to be heard over the rain—he begins.

"We didn’t sign up for this," he mutters.  "Not really.  The Cormyr Company—our captains—they told us it was a contract for some big players, high coin.  Good work, good pay.  But once we hit Chult… we figured out real quick who was holding the leash."

He pauses, flexing his fingers against the rope, the wet fibers tightening against his wrists.  "Red Wizards.  And by the time we knew?  It was too late to back out.  They had airships overhead, watching us like hawks, and we were neck-deep in the jungle with no way home."

His gaze flicks toward his captors, judging their reactions before continuing.

"They had us searching for a lost city.  We lost good men—hell, we lost most of our war elephants—just trying to survive out there.  But three weeks ago, we found it.  This place."  He gestures vaguely to the ruins around them with his bound hands.

"The Red Wizards?  They didn’t care about the yuan-ti swarming the city, didn’t care that we were getting slaughtered setting up defenses.  No, they were looking for something specific.  Something underground.  And some of our dead... they Thayans raised them back up as zombies.  Undead pack mules, porters, and guards.  Living or dead, they don't seem to care.  We're just labor to them either way."

He shifts, uncomfortable, as if the next part of the story is worse than what’s come before.  "They sent us after these shrines—old temples, scattered all over the city.  They said they needed the puzzle cubes inside.  Getting ‘em damn near gutted what was left of our company, but we got them all in the end."

He licks his cracked lips, eyes haunted.  "And then, they opened something.  A passage down.  That’s what they needed the cubes for... and that's when they started calling for more of us to head below."  He shudders.  "None of them ever came back."

The rain hisses in the silence that follows.

"Few days ago, word spread that they finally found what they were looking for.  Supposedly, there was some great battle deep underground and the Red Wizards came out on top.  Now they’re digging.  Excavating something from way down below.  Rumors say the job’s almost done, and soon we’re all headed home.  But…" He hesitates, then exhales a shaky breath.  "I wonder.  I don’t think they plan to take us with them.  Not alive, anyway.  But we're too few now to have much say about it.  We were 120 strong when we sailed for Chult.  Now, there's hardly two dozen of us left."

"And to make matters worse, suddenly the yuan-ti are back on the offensive, after mostly leaving us alone since we established our camps, weeks ago."

His eyes are wide now, desperation creeping into his voice.  "I told you what I know.  I held up my end.  Let me go, and I swear—I swear—I’ll disappear.  I won't tell anyone about you."

Another peal of thunder rolls through the ruins.

Meili listened in attentive, motionless silence, not even wiping the rain streaking down her face. Merc's words made her frown only once, when he described all Red Wizards doings. Perhaps she was too hasty back in the city, dismissing the wizards as "not their business". Well, it was now.

"Where is the entrance into that hole the Wizards dug up?"

She waited for the answer and nodded. "You are free to go. And maybe do not stop walking?"

Meili crouched to look into the man's eyes. "Run for Port Nyanzaru. Find a ship. If the wizards are nearly done, you don’t have much time. You’re right - the jungle is hell. But if you stay, you already know what it will be. Two dozen of you left, that’s two dozen with swords and a reason to fight. If we made it here, you can make it back."

She let that hang in the air, then stood. "Your choice. We’re keeping our word either way."

Ran listens to what the merc has to say and shakes his head at the mention of the wizards again.

"I really don't like them," he says to no one in particular.

When Meili asks for details on the entrance to the underground, Ran makes sure the captive gives very detailed directions, and asks "Is anyone guarding the entrance?"

Ran also has no issues letting the captive go once they've gotten the directions they need.

The mercenary's eyes dart between Meili and Ran.  The rain continues to pour, matting his hair to his forehead, but he doesn’t bother wiping it away.  He exhales, shaking his head slightly.

"Running won’t do me much good," he mutters, voice low.  "The others… I'd be worried they’d turn me in before they ever turned tail."  He sniffs, spitting to the side, then looks at Meili again.  "But I hear you.  And I’ll think about it."

His gaze shifts to Ran, who demands details.  The merc sighs and nods.  "Fine.  You wanna know about the entrance?  Listen close."

He shifts slightly, the ropes tightening at his wrists, but he ignores the discomfort.  "Base of the cliff.  Northernmost point in the ruins.  There’s an old wall there, looks like part of a fortress or something.  At the center of that wall, you’ll find the way down. A tunnel or a crypt with a big, black stone doorway—was sealed before the wizards opened it with the cubes."

His expression darkens.  "We built a palisade around the whole thing, and a dock for the airships.  Ain’t always got a guard at the entrance to the underground itself, but the palisade?  That’s always watched.  Mercs on rotation, keeping an eye on it day and night.  You’re not walking in unseen, not unless you got some serious magic up your sleeves."

The storm rumbles overhead as he lets the last bit hang in the air.  Then, slowly, he rolls his shoulders and looks between them again.  "That enough for you?  ‘Cause I’d like to be on my way, if it’s all the same."

Meili's words about running to Port Nyanzaru clearly linger with him. He doesn’t argue, doesn’t scoff—just nods once.  "Maybe you’re right," he finally says.  "Maybe running’s the only way out of this mess."

[If no more questions...]

He waits for them to cut his bindings, then steps back slowly, rain dripping from his nose.  He lingers only a second longer before turning away, moving quickly, back toward the guard outpost, his form swallowed by the storm.

Ran watches the mercenary take off. He then picks up his gear and gets ready to move out.

"We better get going in case he decides to rally what's left of the mercs and come after us." Ran says.

He looks to the north and shrugs. "Bound to be a nice little inn along the way we can rest up at. If not, maybe a semi covered ditch that isn't too muddy."