The governor tilts his head slightly, equal parts confused and amused by the eladrin's strange mannerism. "Well we didn't know exactly who we were going to get when we reached out to Silver Veil...But that Bartholomew has been singing your praises to anyone who'll listen, so suffice to say we're pretty pleased that it's you."

"As for your quarry, I meant to give you details in the morning but..." He looks around the tavern for a moment, then shrugs and lifts a hand to grab one of the innkeepers attention for a drink. "I can stay for a bit longer if you're curious now."

"About twenty years back - before I was governor - we had a pretty serious bandit problem out here, some group calling themselves the Sunless. It got some bad some of the big city lords were considering sending their own forces to handle it. It never came to that though. Turns out if you push these townspeople hard enough, they'll get mad. The Sunless got a little big for the trousers and tried to hit the town directly...Some boy got hurt and the whole place just turned into uh..." He makes a gesture with his hands, like holding a ball. "...a mob."

"The Sunless got chased through the countryside, locked themselves in a barn and well...The mob set it on fire. So that was most of them dead. The leader Calavaz made it out along a few others. He ended up getting jailed for a different crime in another city though."

"Heard recently he got released on 'good behavior,' however the hells that works. And wouldn't you know it, we've been hearing reports of a group of bandits calling themselves the Sunless robbing people in the Greenfields again." Nighthill says with an exasperated tone, clearly disapproving of whomever made the decision to release the bandit leader. 

"As a weaver of great tales myself, this one sounds a little too clean. Are we sure it is the same people from before that are running a muck and not someone taking advantage of the news of Calavaz's release?" 

"Could be the same people, could be an entirely new crew like you suggest." Gawain says with a shrug, leaning in with interest now. "I don't think it really changes our approach that much though." Protecting caravans from bandits on the road was fulfilling...But ridding the people of this nice town of a band of vile thieves and getting to come back to a bed on a regular basis? It almost couldn't get any better than that. They just needed a good place to start their investigation. "The original Sunless group, did they have some area they used to base themselves out of?"

Governor Nigthill raises his brow, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "It is possible this is just an entirely different group right down to the leader. I wouldn't put it past Calavaz to reignite the group himself though." He gestures towards the paladin, "as your companion says however, it doesn't make much of a difference in terms of what needs to be done."

Addressing Gawain's question now, he goes on, "there's the remains of an old tower in the Greenfields that the old Sunless group used to make use of. Escobert has been out himself to scout it, says he saw torchlight through the windows."

"I would be careful about just barging in. They've grown a considerable force, and there's rumor that one of their number controls a swarm of flying bloodsucker beasts."

Bloodsucker beasts?  Crannoc's brow furrows.  Probably not mosquitoes, he thinks ruefully.  He considers other animals.  Stirges?  Vampire bats?  And how are these beasts controlled?  All creatures should live free in Silvanus' wild grace.

In truth, Crannoc has found outright killing to be relatively uncommon among beasts, though not unheard of, outside of the predator-prey relationship.  Conflict avoidance through intimidation or marking territory were everyday occurrences, however.

But these are humanoids.  City folk.  They sometimes make war.  As for predator-prey, he imagines the party will not eat the bandits, so...

"Do you wish us to drive them away along with their animals?  Capture them, or perhaps their leader only?  Kill them all?"

"Send them scattering into the hills or capturing them would be preferred. No one enjoys ordering another life to be ended." The governor pauses for a moment, then spreads out his hands in a sort of half shrug. "But you aren't expected to needlessly risk your lives trying to avoid doing them too much harm. If in the heat of battle you slay them, it will not be held against you."

Spellbound by the minstrel’s captivating tale, Hildr reminisces about the sagas told by the skalds in her youth. She even used to compose verses of her own, sequestering herself in a nearby grove to practice. Wouldn’t want father to catch me, lest he give me a thrashing. As often as not, however, the imperious man was away at sea—until the sea finally took him. Didn’t have the voice for it anyway, Hildr frowns. These memories flit through her mind as she marvels at Gallant’s melodic storytelling, quietly admiring—and in no small measure envying—the air genasi.

Hildr hears Nighthill out, perking up her ears at not only the opportunity for fighting but also the promise of money. “Payment can’t come soon enough. I’m down to five gold pieces,” she grunts. Hildr assures the governor that she and her companions will rid his town of these “criminal elements,” blood-sucking beasts notwithstanding. “They shall know the sunlessness of the grave. After all,” Hildr adds, “wouldn’t want moneybags inconvenienced, or the money—and the ale—to stop flowing! On that note, a glass of your finest well water, Eliza!”

Time to sober up before retiring for the evening. Early morning calisthenics await.

Gallant pulls out a small notebook and askes the Governer, "Is there any particular townsfolk that had been a major thorn in the Sunless's side the first go around and maybe in danger?"

"Rest assured, you'll have payment for the Fairweather job tomorrow." Nighthill says, trying to allay the warrior's worries. "And going forward, you can each expect 20 gold pieces a week. You'll pick it up from my clerk in the keep." Hildr's assurance brings a smile to his face, and he claps his hands together. "Excellent to hear. Between seeing you all and person and hearing Bartholomew wax on about your merits, I have no doubt you'll do a fine job."

"There was no one in particular the Sunless targeted. You'd be hard pressed to find someone who lived here then that didn't want to be a thorn in their side."

Iris is quiet as the others speak with the governor, they were all asking the same questions she would anyway. Much like Gawain she imagined, she was privately relieved that they would be staying in the town longer. Not lingering in one place for too long was a symptom of her fear that whatever haunted her could grow on others - not necessarily a reflection of how much she enjoyed being on the road.  

She allows a small sigh of relief, finishing off the mug of ale and holding up two fingers. "Make it two glasses please, Eliza!"

"Is there a stretch of road they like to bother travelers?" Gallant looks to the rest of his group, "Maybe we can set up a trap to get some leverage on the group." 

"No, they're not that stupid. They never hit the main roads. Traders and merchants aren't their target." Nighthill says. "The Uldoon Trail isn't the only road through Greenest. We have smaller paths that farmers use all throughout the Greenfields. That's who they normally rob, and what makes them so bothersome. You never know which road they'll be on any given day."

Absently, without thinking of (or frankly, knowing) the etiquette of waiting for Eliza or another server to help them, Crannoc uses his Telekinetic Mage Hand to nab a pitcher of water from the bar area and pour glasses for Hildr, Iris and everyone else (including governor Nighthill).

(In Crannoc's case, through the Telekinetic feat, the Mage Hand is invisible and he casts the spell without verbal or somatic components, so it is not exactly clear who is doing it, looking as if the pitcher is just serving everyone through a will of its own).

The talk of money and payment mostly eludes his notice as usual.  And in truth, Crannoc enjoys spending the night outdoors as he has done his entire life, so sleeping on a bed does not hold quite the allure for him as it does for others.

"If they are unpredictable, it sounds as if the old tower in the Greenfields which Escobert (captain of the guard?) scouted earlier with torchlight in the windows is the best place to start?  Shall we depart at sunrise tomorrow?  Speaking of which, do we know why they called themselves the Sunless?"

With an eyebrow raised in amusement, Gawain watches the water pitcher float through the tavern - or rather, he watches the confused reactions of the other tavern patrons. Whoever was doing that, it was a neat trick.

"Agreed on the tower. We can scout it out ourselves, maybe set up a watch to see who comes and goes. Tomorrow when we pick up our payment, could we speak to Escobert about what he saw?"

Several of the tavern's patrons, and poor Eliza herself who was just about to bring it over, are confused as the water pitcher moves on its own to your party's table. Nighthill perks up for a second, glancing around the table before settling back into his chair with a chuckle. "It sounds like you have a sensible plan of action. I'll make sure Escobert is around tomorrow morning to answer anymore of your questions."

"If there's nothing else, I'll leave you be for the rest of your night. As much as I'd love to spend the rest of the night drinking, singing, and dancing..." He trails off with a smile, "I'm not so young anymore, and tomorrow is bound to be a busy day for me." 

Startled by the animated jug, Hildr eyes her companions suspiciously, trying to determine who is the culprit. Like all Illuskans, she is wary of magic.

Without so much as a “good night,” she retires to her room while the others continue their planning—plans she suspects will go awry, for the future is not easily foretold, certainly not at such an early stage. Guided by destiny—and, if she merits it, favored by the Lord of Battles—Hildr will know the right course of action when she has a better understanding of the enemy and the battlefield. This Escobert might supply it.

When her companions return downstairs the following morning, they find her already doing pullups from a beam. After taking breakfast, she settles down somewhere outside to greet the morning sun and whet her blade, mumbling in a dead language that no one—not even Hildr entirely—understands. It seems to be some kind of prayer.

Crannoc thanks Nighthill for his graciousness and willingness to meet the ragtag group down on their level, a trait unusual for a pack-leader.  He telekinetically Mage Hands the water pitcher back as he takes a sip and thinks.  In truth, the governor seems decent and forthright to a fault.  No evidence of the killer instinct Crannoc has found common among beasts who rise to the top of their herd or pack in nature, red in tooth and claw...

Is that to be expected, here in the bowels of this big city?  Did the man's posture, his eyes, his throat, his voice, reveal anything under the surface?

Humanoids are skilled in deception in ways most beasts are not.  At least that is what Crannoc has heard of city-dwellers from his forest friends time and again.  He reaches out to Silvanus' guidance to help discern hidden purpose in the man's words and mannerisms.  Hoping in truth that there is no reason for suspicion.  Old Father, if chasing off bandits in the Greenfields is the way, or perhaps the first step in something greater, I bend to your will as the willow does in a storm.  Help me see whether there is some greater threat we are missing in the pack-leader who would send us out.

Insight plus Guidance on governor Nighthill:  22 + 2 = 24

If Crannoc does not discern any hidden purpose in the man (as he sincerely hopes not to), he solemnly wishes each of his companions a restful night, retiring himself to his room to meditate before sleeping.  An inn will never substitute for the outdoors, a soft bed of leaves, the rush of a nearby brook, the comforting call of an owl above.  But it could be worse...

Gallant stands and says, "The governor is right, tomorrow we stake out the sunless hideout but tonight is time to be merry and revel in the prospect of new stories and adventure!" Gallant swings his lute to his front with a flourish and begins to sing, "Gawain the Valiant, Crannoc the Wise, Hildr the Strong, Iris the Brilliant, and Gallant the Brave, out and about always looking for a little town to save." 

Gallant will dance and sing into the night finding rest downstairs on an old bench, but will awake when Hildr comes down for her work out and he will go for a run around town enjoying the fresh air before coming back to the bar to meet the rest of his companions for breakfast and a plan.  

Crannoc would surmise that unless the governor was an absolute master of deception, there was no ill intent or secrets with this situation. The man genuinely just seems to do what's best for his town.

The rest of your night passes uneventfully (or as eventfully as you make it (; ). After waking the next day and going through the motions of your morning, you're able to meet downstairs again in the Dragon's Roost. The common area is much less crowded than last night, with only you and a few other travelers staying at the tavern present. A breakfast is waiting for you at your request, served by Eliza once more.

Not a morning type like some of his companions, Gawain comes down from his room upstairs a bit later. With the expectation that they may run into trouble today, he wears his chain mail armor and carries his glaive wrapped up neatly in a thick cloth. He grabs what quick eats he can from the breakfast Eliza has served, not even bothering to sit down after joining the others. "See Nighthill again, get paid, talk to Escobert, then go take a look at this tower yeah?" He asks sleepily, using a free hand to rub his eye. 

"Best not to waste too much time. Who knows how far away this place actually is."