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Caluldor's Folly / Anum 7, 1423

Malcolm watched from the anonymity of the shadows as Caluldor’s unconscious body was pulled into the Green Dragon Inn by his traveling companions, some of whom had started to wonder what became of the priest and recent addition to their band. A short stocky figure quickly peered up and down the street before ushering everyone back in and slamming the door shut. Malcolm guessed that was the dwarf Pilgor – one of a group of self-proclaimed adventurers that had arrived in Hearth the previous evening. “Adventurers,” thought Malcolm. “We’ll give them an adventure they’ll remember for the rest of their lives . . . . however brief that may be.”

Earlier in the day Malcolm had received word that some of the new arrivals had been spotted leaving the inn. One group headed toward Merchants Row and oddly enough one decided to walk the almost deserted streets of Hearth all by himself - and an elf to boot! This winter had been as cold as any other in recent memory and most of Hearth’s inhabitants listened to their common sense and stayed indoors, away from the inclement weather and possible trouble. This made Malcolm’s task even easier as the chance for any witnesses was slim to none except for the village watch and everybody knew who buttered their bread! Besides, who would possibly stick their nose in Nighthawks business, except perhaps that damn old fool Lunian.

Caluldor had wandered into the Temple of Many Faiths and immediately began asking questions and throwing around the name of his deity Pelor - actions contrary to the advice given by Lady Larplen and more recently Mathyus. Once Caluldor had realized his error the damage had already been done. An acolyte had been surreptitiously signaled and dispatched with great haste to one of the seven walled estates a stones throw from the temple. Malcolm and his crew had been waiting for just such a slip and so were quite ready when the news arrived.

After abruptly ending a conversation with one of the priests, Caluldor exited the Temple of Many Faiths and wandered north towards the estates - right into Malcolm’s setup. After some preliminary questions (during which time Caluldor was unknowingly scanned by magical means) Malcolm convinced Caluldor to come with him and his well-armored associate who happened to have come up behind Caluldor as Malcolm was talking. Within a few steps Caluldor had been blindfolded “for his own safety”. Once within the estate walls Caluldor was questioned briefly and then knocked unconscious. Malcolm started to think about what was done after Caluldor was knocked out when he was jarringly brought back to the present. A shadow had detached itself from the nearby alley, slid silently across to where he was and from behind Malcolm quickly laid a cold hand on his shoulder. “Master,” it said in a voice far too quiet to be human “the help you requested from Ahnbor will be here by midnight.”

Malcolm eyed the hand on his shoulder and it was just as quickly withdrawn. “It was not HELP that I requested,” Malcolm intoned through gritted teeth. “Let’s just say I have some influence in certain circles and a shared distaste for outsiders. One more thing, if you EVER touch me again, your suffering will be legendary . . . even in hell!” The shadowy figure bowed and slipped away as Malcolm turned and headed back to the estate. He had much to do before midnight…..

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