The Council of Thieves
Rise, Children of Westcrown
The rain poured as two cloaked figures approached the abandoned tavern. The shorter of the two slowed to a stop across the street and pulled back the hood. The rain darkened the reddish brown hair of a human woman in her mid twenties. Quite beautiful with full lips and piercing green eyes, sharp jaw line and high cheek bones, the only blemish was a three inch scar running the length of her cheek. Some would argue that it detracted from her looks, but only the most snobbish of them. Lahvanu Norax had heard of powerful clerics that could possibly heal the scar, but that seemed unrighteous to her in some way. She felt that it was more of symbol of the oppression that the people of Westcrown under took each day and she wore it with pride almost as a badge of honor for all the citizens to see that she too had befallen hard times and had the same ‘scars’ that others endured at the hands of this corrupt diabolical government.
With her hood down she surveyed the streets as her companion slowed to her side. Even from underneath a cloak one could see his powerful frame of muscles. The top of his cloaked writhed as if something living was repositioning itself on top of his head. “Do you trust her?” the companion asked in a raspy voice that conveyed doubt.
Lahvanu glanced slightly at her friend who stood only an inch or two above her five feet six inches, “Hardly, but I ‘want’ to trust her. From what you have heard on the streets, she seems legitimately in favor of our cause and no rumors of being an informant. So I say we at least give this ‘Janiven’ a fair chance, we might not have an opportunity like this again.”
A low growl was her companion’s only response. “Now Logan, if you can’t play well with others, shall I leave you outside in the rain?” she said playfully.
Logan pretended not to hear her remark and began, “The word on the street is this Janiven has been asking around for other ‘like-minded’ people looking to make changes in the city and she represents a group of concerned citizens who want to make Westcrown a safer place to live.” He paused to take a quick glance behind them and continued. “This Tavern apparently was a place where merchant guards went to relax, gripe about their employers, and look for more work. Several months ago, however, the Vizio patriarch passed away, and the surviving family moved out of Westcrown to go live with kin in distant Corentyn. The place has new owners reputed to be a half-elf man and the human woman who approached us—although they seem to be taking their time getting the tavern off the ground and open for business”
Logan’s hood slipped back slightly in the wind and rain to reveal chalk white skin and black colored eyes that could only come from a mixed heritage of planed touched nature. Logan was indeed a tiefling, a devil-spawn of a human and somewhere in his ancestry a devil. When he spoke his slightly enlarged canines were apparent as well, “I’ve heard she has tried to put out feelers for people before, I haven’t heard what happened to any of those people who might have responded, nor have I seen any changes. So it stands to reason it could be an elaborate government fishing scheme for seditionist and traitors of the state to just go walking into their hands.”
Lahvanu rolled her eyes and smiled slightly having heard this for the tenth time from the tiefling warrior. She glanced at him and even though he wore no weapons outwardly she knew he concealed a set of very deadly weapons in his wrists and seen them three times before. Twice in the slave pits of the Summoning Circle, a pit fighting gladiator’s ring that the local underworld ran in various basement locations throughout the city, she witnessed his brutal forced battles. The clientele and sponsors of these fights being noblemen and businessmen, gambling on the lives of their slaves and as a spectacle of blood sport. Lahvanu had helped to free Logan from that life and since he has spoken of being in her debt, even though she in her deepest heart held no need for repayment, knew that he would hardly leave her side as her ‘protector’. Leading to the third time she witnessed Logan’s dangerous nature as a street urchin thug had tried to take advantage of Lahvanus good nature and looks by trapping her in an alley and…
Lahvanu shuddered to think what could have happened if she had been alone that night, but Logan appeared and put a few bloody holes in the man’s stomach before Lahvanu had time to react. She eventually had gotten up from the ground and pulled Logan off the man, only to find the man’s life already draining into the streets gutter and into the sewers.
“Would you have us turn around and return to the single room temple of Milani?” she asked sarcastically. She knew as he did that he was very uncomfortable in small enclosed areas for long periods of time, like a caged animal.
“Yeah, we…we were doing fine without this lady,” Logan stammered unconvincingly.
Lahvanu sighed, “Rescuing an occasional tiefling, like yourself or smuggling out a halfing slave once in awhile isn’t enough Logan. Not to mention as too expensive to keep up. This is our one chance to make a true difference in Westcrown. You worry too much; I’ve never made it a point to truly hide my faith nor my convictions about the oppression and mal treatment of the common folk here in this once grand city. So if the government had really thought me a threat or wanted me in captivity, there are a lot less extravagant ways to kick in my door and grab me then ‘luring’ me to a secret hideout.”
Logan took one last look around and stepped forward toward the tavern his black leather boot splashing into a puddle, “Well let’s get inside then and stop all this jawing in the rain, I’ll probably catch cold.”
Lahvanu rolled her eyes again and followed her grumpy companion to the door of the tavern. The sign above the door read Vizio’s in faded paint. It appeared that that outside of the tavern was old and weathered, but through the window one could see that someone had begun renovations. Planks of wood, buckets of sealed paint and carpenters tools lay about the floors with tarps draped here and there, one large one covering most of the window and its interior from view with just a letterbox view of what was inside.
Logan’s thick corded muscular hand reached out and turned the handle to the tavern and swung the door inside and paused. He quickly scanned the room, the tables, the exits, the bar, and the individuals. He stepped in with Lahvanu sliding in behind him and she sealed the door closed and began to shack off the rain. She pulled off her traveling cloak and folded it over an arm and looked up to see Logan standing as still as death staring at table of people and noticed he wasn’t staring, but rather sniffing. As if he was taking in their scents.
She slightly elbowed him towards the table as she moved towards it saying, “Hail and greetings, I am Lahvanu and this is my companion Logan. We were invited by,”
“Yes yes, by me,” Janiven announced as she came out from behind the bars door to its kitchen. She carried mugs of ale and a bottle of wine to the table, where others sat. “Please do come in and dry off, we haven’t yet started. I was preparing a meal for us before we began, please do sit and make your acquaintances with the others.”
At that she turned back and hurried into the kitchen once again. Lahvanu pulled a chair out and sat next to a large fellow with pale skin and dark hair, almost as black as Logan’s. “Good eve, sir. As I have said my name is Lahvanu,” she said as she raised a hand in greeting.
The large man moved almost inhumanly for one well above six feet in height, but not irregularly. His arm glided in a dream like quality that seemed almost befitting an angelic being. Indeed his apparel spoke of nobility and he looked quiet out of place in the dingy run down tavern, even more so as Logan took the seat next to Lahvanu, Logan’s cloak falling away to reveal old, tattered and worn black leather armor.
“Rutilus, my lady,” the man spoke a higher pitch than befit his large stature, but in a perfect Chelaxian accent. “May I introduce my ‘business associate’; he goes by the name Dose.” The large man waving his hand to the other individual seated at the table.
Dose was exotic looking and had light brown skin, thick dark hair and look to stand nearly six feet. Something about his skin shimmered and Lahvanu could see at close distance that it looked almost scale like in nature rather than human skin. Perhaps he was part tiefling variant similar to Logan she wondered, for there were many physical appearance differences between each tiefling.
Dose wore expensive clothing as well, but they did not reflect the nobility in nature that Rutilus had. Dose clothes spoke of more functional nature and of rugged craftsmanship. He wore odd dark smoky quartz lenses fitted into rims as glasses that covered his eyes. Upon the introduction he lowered the tilt of his head to gaze over his glasses to reveal pupilless white eyes, “Greetings, so what worth are you two bringing to this gathering?” he said bluntly in a strange accent.
Lahvanu seemed slightly taken aback, not knowing how to answer, when Janiven’s timely returnd, with plates of roasted fowl and ground tubers with greens and a boiled sun-cake to finish up, doused the fire sure to be set off. She placed the plates before the group and took a seat as well. She began to eat, finally looking up to see everyone starring at her. “Please do eat, before it gets cold.”
“How about we get to the point of why we are here?” growled out Logan almost in a whisper.
Lahvanu gave Logan a sidelong glance to show her disapproval and reached for her fork, but paused. “You wouldn’t mind if I used a bit of magic to determine if this food is safe or not?”
Janiven smiled, “Yes of course. By all means.” And she took another bit of tuber. Her gaze fell to Logan, “I understand your concern, but I just wanted to enjoy a meal before we discussed the purpose of this meeting.”
They all seemed to relax a bit when the cleric Lahvanu had finished her prayer and found that the food was indeed safe and all began to pick at their food. When Janiven had made it through most of her meal she broke the uncomfortable silence that had begun to grow, “As you may or may not know myself and my partner are indeed the new owners and we believed this a perfect place to hold our, ‘meetings’.” As she said this she made an unflattering scowl, as if the attention of everyone made her feel uncomfortable and she wished them all to stop looking at her. She appeared to be very attractive, but yet she seemed to down play her beauty by wearing the rough clothing that hid her womanly shape and gave her the stocky look of a man.
“Speaking of my partner…” Janiven looked nervously to the door and then to the window. “He has yet to arrive, but I had planned on you all meeting him before we went into detail, but seeing as you are all almost finished with your meals,” she stood and went to the door and locked it. She strode to the window and pulled the tarp fully closed and causally walked back to stand before the table, “I want to start by saying thank you for agreeing to meet with me here. I have chosen each of you for a singular reason—everyone here, myself included, has suffered, whether we realize it or not.” She paused as if to let those words sink in. She made eye contact with each person at the table and began again, “I have lived in Westcrown my whole life, and although I love this city, I must admit, as must you, that despite our peace and prosperity, we continue to suffer. Fear should not be an expected part of life, and yet each night brings fear to our doorsteps. Yes, Westcrown has been safe from war and famine for nearly seventy years, and yes, most of our businesses has prospered,” her gaze fell to Dose almost apologetically, “but this safety and prosperity has been bought in the coinage of fear and prayers to Hell.”
She moved her chair out and sat, “Other lands live free from tyranny. Other cities do not fear the night. Other governments do not cede the streets to monsters of the infernal shadows. Westcrown was once such a place, and she wants to be such a place again. Westcrown is not only her buildings and canals and docks and history—she is also her people. Westcrown is our friends and neighbors, our mothers and fathers, our siblings and cousins, our sons and daughters! With but a small group of supporters and dedicated brothers and sisters, we can earn the trust and admiration of those people. A Westcrown free of these shadowy beasts that stalk our streets is one step closer to a Westcrown free of the devil that is the Thrice-Damned House of Thrune!”
When she finished, the group sat for many moments in silence. Dose spoke up, “You realize those words are treason.”
Janiven looked to him and slowly nodded her agreement, “Everyone in Westcrown knows a friend of a friend who has been taken away by a Hellknight or executed after a too swift trial for speaking less than the words I have uttered here tonight, but I truly believe that a small group of like-minded ‘friends’ can improve the lives of the people of Westcrown.”
“Pfft,” scoffed Logan, “They called them terrorists, the last time the Lord Mayor busted up a small group of ‘friends’ trying to help the citizens. Helping themselves to the citizen’s belongings was mostly what they ended up doing rather than trying to change the current government.”
Before Logan had finished, Janiven was shaking her head in agreement, “Yes, yes, we must take care not to appear as rebels or rioters. We must form the peoples own band of protectors, and must work to win the admiration and support of the citizens by doing good works and providing what aid we can. The key to this tactic is the fact that Westcrown is largely ignored by the rulers of Cheliax as a home-in-exile for the old nobility. As long as we work to win the hearts of Westcrown’s citizens by good deeds and avoid as many direct entanglements with the government as we can, the House of Thrune will continue to ignore what they’ll interpret as ‘petty squabbling’ in the old capital.”
Janiven looked to Logan has he sat back in his chair and contemplated her words, “You as a past slave, one whom most of us have seen suffer great and terrible wounds and forced to take the lives of others for the mere pleasure of spectators know above most how a symbol can be a powerful tool to rally the people behind. As powerful as an alias in the ring, am I right Hellwolf?”
Logan steeled his gaze at Janiven, obviously surprised anyone had recognized him so quickly. Lahvanu cleared her throat and spoke, “Well, as a cleric of Milani, I recognize my purpose here and aware that the calling of my goddess often ends in martyrdom, but it is a common belief that those who are strong of faith will continue the fight on. I have no wish to perish, but living in tyranny is no life at all and my faith brings me to conflict against oppression and unjust rule. I pledge my service to your cause Janiven.”
After a long pause, “Mine as well,” Logan announced through clenched jaws.
“This being a means to an end of sorts, I agree to ‘tag-along’ for now and see where this leds to,” Dose said almost sarcastically and looked to his noble looking friend.
“When and how do we start?” asked Rutilus.
“The camaraderie is touching,” whispered Logan, only to draw another glare from Lahvanu.
As he spoke, the sounds of keys at the door had everyone look to the door as it swung open and a teenage boy darted in and closed the door behind him. He was rain soaked and water squished from his leather boots and he stepped in. He pulled his hood back to reveal short cropped blond hair and a scar that bit deeply into his right brow and across his eye.
Winded from running the boy, Vennik called out, “They’ve got Arael!” between labored breaths brought on by his long run. Janiven’s face grew grim as she comforted the lad and asks him to explain himself; in a moment the lad recovered enough to spurt out, “The Hellknights of the Rack nabbed Arael! And there’s a bunch of Hellknights on their way here now! I only just made it in here; they’ve already surrounded us!”
Janiven swung around to face the group and hurriedly stammered, “Arael is my half-elf partner, whom I had been expected some time previously.” At that point, the sound of clanking armor advancing on the tavern became apparent.
“See! See!” The roguish teenager said excitedly.
Logan went to a shutter and peered out, “Twelve armigers and at least three full fledged Hellknights – Knights of the Rack if I saw the insignia right and I think I did. There is no hope, but to flee.”
“Armigers?” asked Lahvanu.
“New inductees in the organization that serve the Hellknights as squires and porters,” announced Dose matter of factly.
Janiven rushed away from the door, “I’ve prepared for this,” and she moved to a sturdy hatch behind the bar set in the back of a floor level cupboard and pulled out to reveal a passage leading below the cellar – down, indeed, into the sewers of Westcrown.
The nimble boy, Vennik, leaped down the hole into the tunnel below, “Follow me,”
One by one they hurried into the tunnel and Janiven closed the hatch behind her and used an old water soaked branch to try and secure the hatch.
“That won’t hold them off long,” Rutilus mused.
“Then go, hurry. Follow Vennik, he knows the way. I hope” said Janiven.
As they set off they could hear loud crashes from above, the noise of the Hellknights tearing apart Vizio’s Tavern. Janiven motioned to move on, “They might take a few minutes to search in the tavern, but some are sure to follow us down here after they grab a lantern or make torches. They might even try to infiltrate the sewers ahead of us if they can guess our route. We need to keep moving.”
They followed close to Vennik led them through the sewer tunnels and occasionally stopped to point out curious sword-shaped marks, cut into the walls.
Janiven explained, “Arael and I made these marks a few months ago when we explored the sewers. We marked all the intersections so our people could find their way.”
They journeyed further into the sewer and Lahvanu glanced at Logan to see he had covered his nose with part of his cloak trying to lessen the stench of the waste that floated by them as they ran.
The malodorous, underground trek criss-crossed and side tracked through a maze of networking pipelines. Westcrown’s sewer system is a marvel of ancient engineering, designed by the same geniuses who built the Arch of Aroden in Corentyn. Though Westcrown is barely above sea level, the cleverly designed sewer tunnels continue to carry Westcrown’s filth away, and for the most part, citizens never think about the sanitation process that keeps the city relatively free of waste-borne illness. Individual tunnels are buttressed and rarely more than 5 feet high, forcing tall individuals to stoop but not otherwise hindering most activity. Most tunnels are 10 feet wide, with a 3-foot-deep trench for sewage and water taking up half that width—even at peak flow the water level is an inch or more below the level of the walking side of the tunnel of which the group now ran along.
Rainwater enters the sewers from tiny barred grates in the streets, most so small that an adult halfling couldn’t squeeze through, and travels through an angled pipe that directs the runoff to the closest tunnel’s drainage side, exiting about a foot above the peak flow-level of the sewer channel.
They rag tag group maneuvered along the narrow walkway next to the rancid filth that streamed on by their feet. It wasn’t until Janiven yelped out that anyone looked into the water to see small figures huddled in the waste deep sewage.
The sewer goblin heard the intruders into its life tunnel long before he saw them. “Stupids louds abovers comins down into meses home!” Nackflex uttered in the goblin tongue to his brother Fugel, who was smearing his name, or what he thought it would look like, though he couldn’t write nor spell, onto the sewer wall in brown mess.
Fugel stopped ‘writing’ and looked at his older brood sibling, “Wes goes and guts them?”
“Yes, we teached thems this is Toe-Rot tribe territory!” answered Nackflex. They jumped into the seweage and half walked, half floated down stream. At its corner they began to just float silently down the tunnel towards the invaders.
Nackflex was the first to bob past the talk ones and waited til he has past most of them and then he spotted a weakling female of the bunch. He death would be sweet and be a good lesson for the Abovers not to return here. Just as the female looked into the water Nackflex sprang out. He swung his dogslicer at the female and knew she fall like a mangy dog she was, but at the last moment the female was surprisingly quick and moved back from the foull force of the cut. The blade merely sliced through the female’s outer clothing, but it did manage to draw a thin red line along her wrist and arm.
Janiven leaped back so forcibly that her head smacked against the sewers wall and caused her more harm than the goblins sword slash. She reached for her weapon and as she drew it forth a strong hand pushed her back and pinned her to the wall as it moved past her.
Logan moved in-between Janiven and the goblin and held out his arm. A sick sound of popping and flesh tearing reverberated in the tunnel from Logans arm as the ends of his fist split open and bone began to slide out, as if growing too long to fit his flesh.
Sharpened blades a foot long each grew out and snapped into place in the back of his hand showing three blades on each fist. The goblin was already moving again and jabbed its blade at Logans thigh, nearly piercing his leather armor.
He darted his fist full of claws in an upper cut to the goblins chest with the speed learned in years of practice in pit fighting. His aim was dead on and the goblin hardly raised his blade in defense when Logan’s claws punctured into its chest and lungs. The goblin was lifted off the ground and its breath became labored and wet sounding as its blood filled its throat.
Behind them Logan could hear sounds of weapons being drawn and another goblin leaping from the water. It hacked away with abandon at Dose, but it only managed to cut the edges of Doses cloak.
Dose mean while pulled his wicked curved dagger from its sheath and twirled it in his hand, the flourish bringing its blade in a downward position for stabbing. He feinted a straight forward charge and reversed his motion to stab downward at the goblins shoulder. The odd angle of the blade appeared to come up short and the Fugel almost laughed out loud at the hideously feeble attack, but he felt the blade catch the edge of his shoulder and push him down and forward towards the tall man. The stab wound erupted in pain and Fugel’s arm went limp instantly as horrid pain shot through his body.
Fugel made a swing and missed widely, but had only tried as a diversion to step back to reassess his opponent when he felt something slam into the back of his head. He would have sworn to his brother Nackflex that a hammer had hit him, but at that moment he began to lose consciousness. He turned to see a strange pale man standing above him in rich finery with his arm and hand cocked back fro another punch.
Rutilus arm swung in and his fist made contact with a loud sound of bone cracking as the goblins face blew apart in gore and teeth.
Vennik had made his way back to the group in time to see Logan pushing the goblin off his clawed fist and into the sewage water, “Hey Mister! I KNEW it! I knew it was you!” he said excitedly to Logan.
Janiven turned sharply to Vennik, “Hush now!”
Vennik almost slapped his hand over his mouth when he realized it was covered in sewage, but he still strode forward to get closer to Logan, stepping into the water knee deep and whispered almost as loudly as he had spoken, “Hellwolf right? It’s you right? I saw you fight a zombie orc once. Man, you were brutal with your bone claws slashing here and there as it tried to eat your brains,”
Logan only shifted uncomfortably, “Yeah, you’re right kid you win.”
“I knew it! What else have to killed? Huh?” Vennik asked.
Again Logan shifted and looked to Lahvanu for a way out, “Just teenage boys manily,” he said sarcastically.
“Vennik, be quiet!” Janiven scolded him once again and moved off the wall and straighted out her gear. He gaze going to Logan’s, “I could have handled that by the way, no need for shoving,”
Logan looked at Janiven’s arm, “Just my nature lady,”
“To push woman around? Or to throw yourself at a fight?” she mused.
“Pick one,” he spat and pushed past her again to move further down the tunnel.
Actually Janiven had a pretty good idea what drove Logan, she had heard of his minor reputation on the street. From what she had heard he didn’t like others being picked on, always ready to put down a bully.
“Alright let’s get moving,” she announced.
The group formed up again and Vennik took the lead with Janiven to bring the rear. After what seemed like an hour they turned a corner and lowed to a stop see Vennik taking a knee and he waved at them to stop.
He slowly crept back to the main body of the group, “Three Knight squires…should we double back?”
Janiven was fast with, “No…we can’t afford the time. They are standing in the path that leds to the safe house, if we go back they might be following. We are sandwiched here,”
Rutilus stated, “It’s either fight now or fight later.”
They all heard the tell-tale sound of bone sliding from flesh, ‘snikt’, “Let’s do this,” Logan said and started off down the tunnel towards the Knights.
Vennik smiled as he watched Hellwolf, eager to watch him in action and in a single motion drew his bow and fitted it with an arrow.
By the time the party moved into positions the Armigers heard Logan running and prepared their weapons. Logan burst into the ring of torch light the knights held and drew his arm back to stab. The armiger was ready and raised his shield to block the three claw attack. As he deflected it he did as he was trained and counter attacked his long sword. The move was perfect and he indeed felt the blade bit into his enemy. This was the young squires first battle and hardly knew what he was doing, but began to react as his training dictated. He knew the injured man would slow now and he tried to bash the man back with his shield to gain footing to bring his sword in for another swipe.
Logan was no ordinary man and his tiefling heritage had already begun to heal the bleeding wound across his chest. Muscle and tendon slowly knitting itself back together at an impossible rate.
As Logan repositioned himself to duck around the Armigers shield an arrow flew past his hair, causing it to react as it did, independently, and it shot straight up as the hackles on a dog wound.
The arrow launched from Vennik hit its mark and penetrated the crease line between plates in the Amriger’s armor. The young squire yelped out in pain.
The other two armigers had exploded into motion as well at the site of Logan and had lept across the sewage waters to Logan’s rear and were advancing on him. The arrow that flew past them gave them pause and they turned to see the rest of the party turning the corner.
Lahvanu drew her sword and was first around the corner and swiped at the knight. He blocked with his own sword and moved in to crowd the cleric back. She gave ground as Vennik lined up another shot. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Dose put his blade to his tongue and lick it.
Dose drew his arm back and launched the kukri into the air, end over end. Lahvanu barely had time to react, but drew her head back in time as the blade shot past her to embed its blade to the hilt in the facemask of the Armiger.
Janiven was next around the corner and had her bow at the ready she did a light skip over to the other side of the sewer to get a clear shot at the middle squire and launched her arrow. It took the young man in his back, just below his neck between the shoulder blades.
The man let out a high pitched squeal and stumbled for a few seconds before he miss-stepped into the sewage with a splash.
Logan had finally scored a hit to the first Armigers knee as he feinted a stab with his left arm, but reversed his momentum and came under the shield to puncture the man’s knee. The squire stumbled back and threw out his shield arm for balance, opening his defenses. Logan backed slightly away, hearing the ‘twang’ of a bow string. Vennik’s arrow sank deep into the Armigers chest just below the man’s heart. The Armiger fell straight back with a loud resounding ‘crack’ as his head hit the sewer floor.
“Is anyone hurt or injured,” Lahvanu asked as she scanned the group for any blood. Her gaze barely lingering on Logan, as she was familiar with his devil spawned and unnatural ability.
They all looked from one to another and no one spoke up.
Janiven moved past the bodies of the Armigers, “Let us be off, we aren’t too far from the safe house,” she noted as she looked to the bodies, “slide the bodies into the water, maybe they will float off some and buy us sometime,”
They pushed the bodies fully into the water and Vennik climbed out of the sewage to shake off his boots as they were now covered in muck.
“Suits you, kid.” Dose said in a mocking tone.
Vennik sneered, “Whatever, like you knew it was that deep?”
Dose smiled and moved past the reeking muck covered rogue.
“Will be hard for you to sneak anywhere now…smelling like that, they’d catch your odor a mile away.” laughed Rutilus.
Vennik smiled " smell yourself, we all smell the same".
After another twenty minutes of flight and filth through the sewers they found the way out – just as we were ready to collapse from weariness.
Janiven led them around the last bend to a cellar door made of sturdy wood. She approached and pulled a key from her belt pouch to unlock the thick door. It swung out wards and she led them in and up through a staircase to the upper level.
There the group found many other people filling the building, “What is this place?” Lahvanu asked almost seeming familiar with it.
Vennik, “It’s an old temple of Aroden”
“The gods smile upon us indeed,” said Janiven. “For what safer place in all of Westcrown could we hid, but in a place, a temple, that the Hellknights would not enter.”
Lahvanu had begun nodding her head in agreement as Logan looked perplexed. “They aren’t allowed to search holy sites without proper authority, which they’d almost have to see us in here plotting against the government to get that.”
Janiven looked over the group and sighed, “It’s been a long night. I’ll show you were you can all wash up and rest for until morning. We will speak again then.”