Xanlanann grits his teeth, knowing that victory is almost upon them and with victory come rewards. He turns his focus toward that last goblin and rushes towards, letting his blades do the talking.

Rapier: Attack: 14 Damage: 7

Dagger: Attack: 10 Damage: 3

(Apologies.  Work picked up, and my internet provider chose that moment to take advantage of the distraction.  Next round I intend Erhorn to try and get the goblins to surrender.

On that note, how does that point of inspiration you gave me work?)

DMs note: No worries, Erhorn. You may not get a chance to, though. LOL. But here's the rule if you're interested:

To players, mechanically, Inspiration is a token you spend to gain advantage on a roll, and that’s all it is. You can only ever have one of these tokens in your possession, which is incentive to use Inspiration up quick and not hoard it. You can also pass that token to others, so you might do that if you’re about to get a second one.

(Xanlanann's blades do their job with ruthless efficiency, slicing the last remaining Goblin to death. The party stands triumphant in the room, the Bugbear's body at the foot of the stairs, the Shaman's near the altar/statue and the Goblin on the other side of the room as the cage where Bess remains.)

What do you all do?

Walton places his mace back upon his belt after shaking the blood and other unspeakable substances off of it, then makes his way over to the cage to try and open it. As he does so, he speaks to the child in a calm, consoling tone:

"I apologize for what you had to see, but you're safe now, and we'll bring you back to your father as soon as we can."

(The cage appears locked.)

Frederick sighs with relief. It appears as though this dilemma is finally at an end. The ranger takes a moment to collect himself, before following Walton over to the cage, where Bess is. "We'll get you out of here. Just hold tight a little longer for us." He says, trying to be reassuring. Frederick walks over to the dead Bugbear, leaving Bess momentarily in Walton's care. He first pulls his arrow out of the Bugbears neck that felled the beast, then starts searching the body for a key to the cage. "If any of these cretins are to have the key..."

(Frederick's search proves fruitful, finding what appears to be the key, 1GP and the Bugbear's not-too-shabby armor and Warhammer.)

"Aha!" Frederick chirps with delight, taking the key and the Warhammer. "More loot here if any of you fella's want dibs." He says as he jogs over to the cage where Bess is. "See? Told you we wouldn't take long." He hunches down on one knee, and inserts the key, turning it to open the lock, before opening the cage to let Bess free.

"Loot?"  Erhorn looks around at the fallen goblins, his expression unreadable, and then flicks his gaze between the different members of the party.  "I didn't do this for loot."

The High Elf flicks an errant speck of dust from one of his cuffs, folds his arms and leans against the wall next to the exit.

"I suggest we finish this task as soon as possible.  I detest children, and if she annoys me I might be tempted to tell her a Capital-Ess-Secret."  He frowns; even the burned half of his face seems to glower.  "The kind of Secret that causes nightmares and sometimes Warlocks.  I don't want a competitor."

Walton steps back from the cage to allow Frederick to open it and free Bess, as well as to take that coin off of the bugbear's corpse and maybe have a quick gander at that statue. He found it this entire Delian Order to be incredibly interesting, especially since he'd heard nothing about it in his amateur studies of history; maybe he'd be the one to learn more about it, perhaps he could even write a book about them, though that was wishful thinking. For now, reuniting father and daughter was his main priority, and research would have to wait.

He glowered at Erhorn disapprovingly, already somewhat displeased by the existence of Warlocks in the first place, and none too happy about his desire to corrupt a child with his wicked, forbidden knowledge.

So sorry everyone, have been dying sick for about a week, just getting better. You're almost there, thanks for sticking with it!

(Frederick uses the key to free Bess, who throws herself, sobbing, into the Ranger's arms. She has obviously been a trooper but this his been a lot of trauma for a young child.

(Walton walks over to the statue and looks at it. It depicts a knight, his sword in front of him pointing at the ground. He seems vaguely familiar. You think it looks like that guy on the mural, the leader guy... you know, the guy... Sextus Varus. 

On the base of the statue, you notice a small plaque with an inscription that reads:

"If you are to keep this, you must first give it to me."

What do you do?

A riddle; that's just great. Walton never had been any good at riddles or wordplay, so this enscription was incomprehensible to him; instead, he inspected the statue further, looking for some kind of hidden mechanism; he'd read about such things before, with statues concealing hidden doors and such.

"Do any of you have any skills at riddles and word games? This plaque's utter nonsense, to me."

"I'd consider what kinds of things a knight would be so invested in that he alludes to it in his grave."  Erhorn yawns theatrically, then pulls his book out of his pocket and starts flicking through the pages as he reads his notes.  "And that's about as much thought as I'm willing to give the conundrum.  It doesn't interest me in the slightest."

He sniffs and turns another page of his book, and the stains on the cover catch the light and look somehow unsettling for a moment.  What he doesn't do is move from near the door or go over to look at the plaque.

"It's probably honour or a sword or something if it's a riddle.  Knights are boring and far too predictable.  Pay a bard to spread rumours of a princess in a tower, persuade a dragon to take up residence near where the rumour says she is, and you'll attract flocks of them."  He pauses and looks up from his book.  "What is actually the name for a lot of knights?  I know crows is a murder.  Are knights a herd?  A stabbing?  A tournament?"

Lifting Bess and walking while carrying her over to Walton, and the carving on the wall. "Well, beats me. I'm with Erhorn, though. A sword, honour, respect. Something along those lines." He pursed his lips in thought. "Do you remember much about what we have previously seen of Mister Varus, Walton? We didn't pick anything up previously that may be of use to solving this puzzle now, by chance?" That'd be a stroke of luck.

"I've never heard of Varus in my life, before now, but I can at least tell you that he was the leader of this order. I remember on that carving of him on the wall near the entrance, he was saying something, though I can't recall it for the life of me."

Walton recanted, now physically examining the statue and feeling around for any sort of mechanism or anything of even remote interest, really.

(Walton examines the statue, looking for some sort of mechanism, but has no luck.)

Erhorn's book is open, but he's openly staring at the rest of the party and his single eyebrow is creased in a frown.  Finally, he rolls his single eye, slides his book into the pocket of his robe and stalks over to the statue.

"Honestly, if you're going to obsess over a puzzle it might be faster if we get to the answer."  He nudges Walton out of the way of the plaque, frowns at the words, and then snorts.  "Look, if it's able to be given and you keep it at the same time, it can't be physical.  That rules out sword, armour, or anything like that.  That leaves an honour-based thing."  He stands and wanders towards the altar, which is still soaked in blood, and seats himself on it, apparently not caring that his robes are going to get damp, red and sticky.  "Last time I saw a knight, he was all 'Upon my Oath' this, and 'Upon my Oath' that.  Never swore properly at all.  Not a single 'bugger', 'damnation' or 'il porcupino non sodomy est'.  Bards are much more fun."

Xanlanann stands by the door they came in, watching into the other room for any other goblins that might be sneaking up from behind.

"A group of knights is called 'No Thanks'. One of those arrogant pricks is one too many"

"A group of thieves is called untrustworthy, and for good reason."

Walton remarked back, irritated at his travelling companions' irreverent attitudes towards honor and chivalry, but could he really expect better of warlocks and thieves? He would have to set his personal prejudices aside, howerver, for he had a riddle to solve. Taking a fairly large sigh, he spoke yet again:

"The main problem, Erhorn, is that I haven't got the slightest idea as to how to actually activate this statue, and that's assuming that the thing actually does something special. I could probably shout the word 'honor' at Varius here, and not a thing would happen. Erhorn, aren't you a wizard of some sort? Why don't you put your clearly immense knowledge to use and solve the riddle?"

Walton inquired half-sarcastically; clearly, he wasn't going to solve this confounding riddle any time soon, but if he could get someone else to figure it out, that would work just as well.

"While I appreciate your thirst for knowledge and uncovering this statues secrets, do you not think this should wait?" Frederick asked, still holding Bess. "Priority number one is getting this little girl home to her father, after all. Don't get me wrong, I'm fascinated by this as well, and I don't think we should let it go. But our job isn't done." 

He considers the statue one more time, pursing his lips in thought. "I do agree with Erhorn's assumption that the answer is not physical. What it could be, and how we do activate it, though. I'm as lost as you, friend."