The trek back to the ship is uninterrupted, Arutha, unless you avoid Rotisserie Row. If you double back and travel along that road, you might encounter Fist soldiers there, taking statements, tending the injured, referring family to the local temples for resurrection services.

With the door opened by the effort of his axe Cath moves forward, through the door,  and into what is beyond. 

Gramdal just keeps his arms crossed, readying himself to defend if it comes to it. Everyone here is ready for betrayal. Everyone! In a den of thieves and scoundrels, there's no honor to be had. That's Gramdal's line of thinking. Still, he has to wait it out. He has to call their bluff. There wouldn't be all this cloak and dagger just to get Kelten here only to take him down. No, not when there are so many ways to more discreetly dispose of someone. People saw him come here. No, sometimes inaction is the right choice. Just wait. See. Don't give in to their scare tactics. The only other motion the dwarf will make is a single finger movement. A sign of acknowledgement for the Silver Queen. Even if others saw the slight gesture, they wouldn't know who it was for or the context. 

Arutha Travels to the ship along the fastest route and upon arriving climbs the ship to speak to the brothers. "Ho, The Ship!" he yells as he approaches the gangplank

Norvalor has a hint of anger on his face as he say "yeah i see it..... we need to get you out of here and report this undead and elven bones in a pile this lager there has to be some conspiracy here. Traever do you see anything odd? you seem to have a sharp eye."

Bump)

Bump? 

One Bump to Rule Them All

And in the darkness bind them.

bump

"Ho!, dwarf," one of the ship's mates shouts back to you, Arutha. "What news, friend?"

Traever sees all that you can see, Norvalor. You are in a round cell, more like a holding pen. Ten feet above you in the ceiling you see two dozen zombie hands and arms hanging into the cell. The other prisoners are in the cell with you too. 

Gramdal, you are beginning to understand how the game is being played down here inside the Red Cowl. It is a den of thieves and miscreants and bounty hunters and kingpins. No one seems to be interested in delivering a fatal blow. More like the pricks of a mosquito. Draw just a little bit of blood, remind the host that the mosquito is here, busying itself with opportunity.

As you set your mind at ease you recall details of the events surrounding Bhaal's avatar. More specifically, you recall gossip about a dwarf informant who survived those events. Perhaps this fat dwarf is the same person?

It is clear that the Old Alliance is gathering for more than an audience with a female orc. They are positioning themselves for some future event.

Gramdal looks to the crowd. They think they've got the better of him and Kelten. And in truth, they had. At least for this battle anyway, but the war was far from done. "I seem to remember something. Something from ages past. Tales of a Dwarven informant in the Time of Troubles and Era of Upheaval. The Bhaal Spawn and chosen avatar of the Lord of Murder. Do such tales ring any bells, eh Jhaval?" He lets that hang in the air for a moment, seeing if any there have any reaction at all, but especially the fat Dwarf. 

"So, why don't we quit all this prick-measurin' and posturin', and get to the real reason we're all here. You know, besides seeing how gloriously we can waste each others time." With that, he plants his hands on his belt and waits to see what happens.

Norvalor starts to free the others from their binding and says to Traever "we need to move help me look for something to get us out of here."

Cath peers into the darkness past the door he had just bashed in. Traever was down here somewhere, the rod indicated he was close.  He didn't want to spend anymore time in this cemetery than needed.

Cath, your dwarf eyes see well into the cold, uncomfortable darkness beyond the door. You wouldn't expect the floor to be hewn from the bedrock but it is. There are no gutters between set stones, no ruts where cart wheels might roll, no rough uneven surfaces that might indicate amateur work. The floor stretches out before you into a large circular room. In its center you see a large cell. The bars disappear into the floor and the ceiling above, trapping inside a group of human prisoners hanging by chains and two familiar faces, including the half-drow Traever.

And there's more...

The rod of many detections begins to wiggle madly in your hand, as if warning you of some imminent—

Roll initiative.

As you move to free the prisoners, the still quiet of this underground room suddenly fills with a loud boom, howling from behind you, Norvalor.

Cath initiative 21

Cath's expression changes from concern when he sees the prisoners to relief when he sees the boy and Norvalor. 

"Egads boy, yer giving this old dwarf trouble."

The rod starts to vibrate and it's incessant buzzing gives Cath a bad feeling.

"Troubles coming Norvalor"  he quickly says as he starts looking around.  He shoves to rod in his pack and grips his axe with both hands. 

Whatever your intentions, Gramdal, the room visibly shifts as you take your first step onto the game board in this abandoned temple turned rogues' hideout.

No one makes a move. No one tips a hand.

Vipers, one and all. They turn their attention to you, scrutinizing you, waiting for you to make your next move. You are, after all, in their lair. They have nothing to fear. They have only something to learn. Are you an ally or are you a threat?

You have made a demonstration. What's next, rogue hero?

As you ponder your next move, you notice Kelten take a slow but firm step closer toward you. It isn't a show of support, as onlookers might consider, but rather a flanking tactic, a move you are familiar with when you are about to enter melee battle in close quarters. Not your quarters, mind you, an enemy foolish enough to prove his loyalty to the Jhaval but entering melee attack range.