"I lost site of them when they ran inside the castle, and didn't see them readily in the courtyard. They couldn't have gone far," he added ryely, his spirits returning a bit as the healing power of the woman's salves kicked in and the tightly wound bandage lessened his constant pain he had been in since the kobold had stabbed him. He was lucky he hadn't bled out. "At this moment, I'm happy knowing they're alive and unharmed, thanks to the efforts of you and your companions."

At the mention of healing, Quarion says, "Ah yes, our wounds! I'd almost forgotten." He hadn't almost forgotten. He was in serious pain. "I suppose it couldn't hurt to have them tended to. Perhaps we should go with our friends after all, then visit the governor." Then, to Valji, "How are you holding up, my friend?" 

Having accompanied Cuth to the infirmary and being confident Urokris' wounds were not too serious, Skiaceq wanders back down from the tower. Now that his adrenaline is falling, the pain in his shoulder asserts itself. He fusses at the blood-stained plumage with his beak while surveying the keep interior. Some of the townsfolk are weeping. It's likely many lost their lives tonight. The guard were wholly unprepared for a raid of this scale, and too few to defend a city this size. Were they more experienced, they could have formed rank at the outskirts and drove their enemies toward the keep to be skewered by the central guard.

But now is not the time for criticizing tactics. Skiaceq has his own matters to pursue. Once the stained feathers have been removed, he seeks out the dwarf who greeted the party earlier. It's about time he spoke with his father.

 "That's much better," says Quarion, as the healer finishes tending to his bruises. "I feel like a new man. Thank you for your trouble."

"Now," he says to the others. "What do you say we find this Governor fellow?"

The courtyard has changed very little since Sciaceq went with Cuth to the infirmary. Near the entrance, a little distance from where Quarion and Valji were chatting with the ginger dwarf, the guards are placing the deceased guard on a stretcher, a blanket having been placed over his body. A blonde-haired woman runs over toward the body crying as another one of the guards chases after her.

Back with Urokris, Quarion, Valji, and Cuth stands up after a minute and tests his weight on his his leg. He winced, but seems to have his full strength back. "I think I'm good to go find Linan. The kids will be worries about me," he says by way of explanation, making his way to the door.

Following the Dwarfs directions leads you to the top of the wall surrounding the castle. In addition to a number of archers keeping their eyes on the sky, a man clothes in purple robes and plate mail can be seen distractedly eyeing the city and pacing the length of the wall.

Once fully healed, the massive gash on his head once gushing blood now little more than a barely discernible scar, walks out of the healer's quarters with Cuth in tow, looking for his family. "We should take you back to your children," he says to Cuth, "you should be with them tonight. Much has happened."

Valji

 After the ministrations of the healing woman, Valji is feeling rather grand again! He pulls out some dried fruit and a chunk of hard cheese and fairly wolfs them down as they walk up the stairs to the top of the keep. Once they at the top, he walks around the edges, looking out over the burning town. "I've seen this before...in my dreams...The end has started for sure..." he mumbles absent-mindedly to himself.

After an hour or so of recuperating in the infirmary, Quarion, eager to learn more about the cultists who kidnapped his friend, follows the dwarf's earlier directions, heading toward the keep wall where he sees a man in a purple robe and plate mail surveying the keep from along the wall.  Quarion heads toward him, saying, "Excuse me, you have the look of someone in charge. Might you perchance be the esteemed Governor Nighthill I've heard so much about?"

Urokris:

You see Linan and the children off to the left as you exit. She is talking to the blacksmith and his male half-elf companion. The woman that was with them early is nowhere to be seen. Cuth heads directly for them as you exit. Across the way, you can see Skiaceq heading towards the ginger dwarf.

Quarion, Valji, and company:

The purple clad man turns around with a grimace. "What is it?! This is no time for your petty..."

His face changes noticably as he catches site of the group before him. "Oh, the newcomers. I heard word of your battle at the keep gate. Reihneid and Cuth owe you the lives. But I digress; I am Governor Nighthill. You definitely picked an evening to arrive at the city; that much is certain." He returns his gaze to face outward, producing a small telescope from the folds of his jacket. "We've been watching the skies for the return of the damnedable dragon, or perhaps we could have given you more assistance. Still... you handle yourself better than most of my men."

"We very much appreciate the compliments, but we do not deserve them.  We cost one of your men his life by delaying the closing of the gate.  Consider us in your debt," says Quarion, secretly hoping the governor will not remember later that he'd said that.  "It's not a coincidence that we are arriving tonight, to be honest; we came in response to rumors of dragon cultists congregating in the area.  Have you perhaps acquired any intelligence about these individuals or their base of operations?"

Urokris pats Cuth on the back and approaches the rest of his newfound companion as they converse with a man clad in purple, reaching them just in time to hear that they're apparently in search of dragon cultists. However, he said nothing to the contrary, simply looking at the purple-clad man with indifferent eyes, his scales rippling along his neck and lower jaw betraying the slight amusement he felt at being there. Although some good would come from hunting dragon cultists, it wasn't his primary concern. Unless of course they knew there whereabouts of his brothers.

The longer he remains here, the more disoriented Skiaceq feels. His ears are accustomed to skies, forests and plains. Focusing, he scans the courtyard for the dwarf he'd spoken to earlier.

Feeling too out-of-element to be concerned with formality, Skiaceq marches directly to the dwarf and caws, "I am looking for someone. Who can tell me where to find an elf named Leosin Erlanthar?"

Skiaceq:

The dwarf turns and looks at Skiaceq. "Leosin? Is that the monk that came by asking about the old tunnel? I haven't seen him since. Weird guy. Asked if the tunnel was built by kobolds. The nerve! My father oversaw the construction of this castle. Proper dwarven handiwork all!"

Party:

"What's this cult of the dragon?" Nighthill asked, "is that who those hooded figures are? Those ones seem to be the ones in charge, but I've seen a lot of mercenaries mixed in as well... not to mention that dragon and kobold army."

As a cloud finally passes by the moon, the Quarion gets a better look at the Governor. His head and face are bandaged, his right arm in a sling, and the light blue tunic from which he had removed his spyglass is stained with his own blood.

"Sounds ominous," Urakris says as he rolls his shoulders, "more curious is why they would attack this city of all places." Although he was dragonborn, he had no idea what a dragon cult was or why anyone would form a cult around dragons. Humans, alas, were strange beings who would turn to anything with power in hopes that they too would get some form of power as well. Despite that however, what use came from attacking this city? Causing terror? Perhaps but there had to be more to it, and although a part of him wanted to move on and find out where his brothers were, another part was curious about this dragon business.

"I'm not sure. I've seen them carry off all the gold and jewels they can find; my estate was one of the first to be attacked." Nighthill adds, gesturing at the sling his arm is in. "Black Dragonborn with a greatsword just about did in my shield arm. Shattered every bone in it with the power of a single stroke; I was lucky to make it out alive."

At the mention of the black dragonborn, Quarion glances over at Urokris, checking for a reaction, remembering that he had mentioned that he was looking for his brothers.

"I'm sorry that you found yourself mixed up in all this, Governor," he says.  "When they carry off their loot, do they usually go a particular direction?"

At the mention of a black dragonborn, Urokris tilts his head, standing a little straighter. It could have been one of his brothers, but that wasn't at all certain. But he heard they were coming and here and the fact that the governor was attacked by a black dragonborn couldn't be a coincidence. "Aye," he says, almost a little strained, "we could rest for the night, but point us in the direction they went and on the morrow perhaps we can recover what was stolen from you."

Governor Nighthill leans in a little closer to Quarion. "Yes, yes! You get it. Always follow the supply lines. Look over here!" Handing the spyglass over to Quarion, he points to near the city square.

Quarion takes the spyglass, puts it to his left eye and looks through it toward the square.