Zoom 2023-03-14 21:00

So the party drop out of thin air somewhere just outside Jevenne on the other side of the lake from Northlake. Alveran security despite being on heightened alert fails to spot this mysterious appearance … initially.
While various party members are roughly rendered conscious (Twoo) or restrained by those with residual storm giant strength and then very carefully, even lovingly, rendered conscious (Umar), Caradoc pops into town to see whether we will need to do another runner from the scaly’s again in the immediate future.
Good news – the scaly’s have not attacked Northlake but spread out in a long line some distance south from the city walls, almost as though they were trying to prevent someone from reaching Northlake, Caradoc doesn’t tell anyone. The city is drawing in supplies from the north – mostly food and arms – which are being shipped across from Jevenne. The city is seemingly supplying itself in siege mode but the siege hasn’t happened, which seems to be the source of some military confusion ie about their normal state of mind, Caradoc thinks.
Coming the other way across the lake are the nervous wealthy and those with sufficient position in the hierarchy to talk their way on to the boats. Caradoc eyes this lot up the way a hungry lion looks at an exhausted wildebeest but decides against his better judgement that this is not the time or the place to go lovingly fondling wildebeest (and probably no organised hungry lions guild here to keep an eye out for over exuberant fondling either, he sighs to himself). He also checks out accommodation but discovers absolutely no room at the inns, or the stables of the inns, or even the rat’s nest under the stables of the inns. Actually he’s not sure if rats have nests – he’ll have to consult a druid – but if they do have nest he’s sure there is no room, not even for a rat.
Relaying this information back to the party they ignore his questions about rats and look for the nearest campable site with a nice view of the town/lake and sort of slump. Various people are slowly cured by those with residual cures. Someone has a look in the bag Eliezure tossed us and closes it quickly saying it smells bad, like a lot worse than rotten eggs bad, like worse than durian fruit bad. Another quick opening reveals it is a bag of holding with a pile of decomposing bodies inside and a note on top which is quickly retrieved after which the bag is rapidly closed again.
Joy of joys, the note turns out to be another incomprehensible prophecy, after which Caradoc happily goes off to scratch his balls. What the note singularly fails to address is why Eliezure has bequeathed us a pile of dead bodies. Caradoc considers the possibility that Eliezure was a closet serial killer collecting trophies but rejects this on the basis that serial killers don’t usually (a) keep the whole stiff or (b) give their trophies away. Anyway, Caradoc spends ten minutes scratching his balls and concludes the note is less a Saratakian missive, more a Saratakian wind-up of a wannabe Saratak and can safely be ignored by those who don’t wannabe Saratak.
A short while after most of the party resume their slump, a Northlake patrol wanders along and taking a casual look at the party concludes, not entirely unreasonably it has to be said, that some very hard fighting has recently been had by most present. “You should see the other guys”, Caradoc doesn’t say, although he can see that is exactly what the patrol are thinking or at least nervously looking around trying to figure out “where are the other guys”?
Anyway, Brokef wakes Quercuis to talk some sense into the patrol and she tells them we were running from the lizardmen on the way from Stormhaven. “Aha” says the patrol leader, who is sharper than a sledge hammer, “so what you doing on the far side of Northlake”. “It’s a fair cop” thinks Caradoc but just Quercuis asks, “Are there any Alveran intelligence officers around?” This spiralling rapidly out of control as far as the patrol leader is concerned, he politely asks Quercuis to accompany him into Jevenne.
Shortly thereafter the rest of the party are invited to move to, it has to be said, a fairly luxurious merchants villa in Jevenne. Quercuis has already shotgunned the best bedroom, but apparently we are being lodged gratis, care of Alveran command. Caradoc concludes we should send the druid to do more accommodation negotiations in future even if she does nick the best room. Quercuis apparently told some local bigwig that we teleported here – he (seemingly well informed in such matters) says “but that would mean you came through…”, “Yep – Stormhaven, in two jumps,” says Quercuis, “Can you get a message to an Alveran officer named Vinmira for me please.”
The local bigwig erroneously concludes in the space of a few sentences that this is way, way, way above his pay grade and that anyone who has the cojones to do two back-to-back group teleports through a hostile Elven high command under attack from a lizardman hoard is (a) worthy of great respect and (b) Someone Else’s Problem and therefore be given free passage to Northlake and treated royally in the meantime.
Having moved into the Merchants’ villa Caradoc discovers someone has erroneously left a cellar door downstairs locked – a potential fire escape hazard which he immediately rectifies finding some fine wines and spirits – potentially combustible materials rapidly removed by the party for good societal health and safety reasons.
Having emptied the cellar, the party use it to re-examine the bag of holding with Twoo providing Det. Magics and other brave people with limited senses of smell retrieving a lengthy list of magic items from five stiffs. There are non-magical Solaran insignia on the stiffs which Q. asks someone to retrieve an example (pitted and rusty) which she cleans, examines and mysteriously pockets. Afterwards the cellar smells really bad of dead bodies – as in the merchant might have some serious explaining to do if he were, for example, to accuse anyone of excessive health and safety regulation.
Over the next few days the party are cured up, fed, drunk on fine booze, rested and very, very politely requested to transfer on to a boat to Northlake. Despite the availability of preferable alternatives Garaf consumes many carp and produces an inventory the like of which the party has never seen. Much rejoicing is had and then the squabbles begin.
Addendum 
Quercuis pulls those with wisdom (and begrudgingly he feels, Caradoc) together on the boat and tells us that there is probably a reason Eliezure dumped those three-month-old stiffs on us. Caradoc had concluded that Eliezure had a warped sense of humour but apparently religious types with more levels can still talk to stiffs even when bloated and riper than a year-old Epoisses – how they manage this while holding their noses is another matter, maybe there is a high level cleric spell SHOUT AT DEAD FROM A DISTANCE. Anyway, Quercuis thinks we are supposed to deliver the bag to Alveran intelligence as the contents were probably significant Solaran level operatives killed by Elves for a reason and can still be quizzed by those of strong internal fortitude.
There is apparently some risk that this is some cunning Elvish plan to pass some weird diseases into the Alveran intelligence system but Q. thinks this is a remote possibility as Eliezure seemed too straight to be into cunning plans within cunning plans.
She proposes:
To hand the sack over to Alveran intelligence before we mush up the contents any further with descriptions of pre-mushed up contents and items retrieved including the Solaran insignia.
Give them the provenance – ie where the hell it came from and warn them of the possible risk of cunning Elvish plans.
As possible risk mitigation she is busily learning four Cure Diseases a day and slapping them on anyone with a slight cough and encouraging the clerics to do similar.
Politely ask them to return any unretrieved runic stuff from the bag and the bag of holding itself (laundered).
She asks everyone in the party and Laeromir not to mention us possessing the box until she/some of us have a chance to discuss the box with Vinmira or someone we think can be trusted to keep their mouth shut – there is a reasonable probability that there is still a hyper-doppleganger in the Alveran system and even if we can check those we meet we cannot verify those lower down the command structure who might be asked to act on the information. At this point she believes Vinmira, having been burnt twice by hyper-doppelgangers, is the only one she has met who will take the security concerns seriously enough to rigorously control the information flow. So, for the present, Eliezure took the box, which would be the logical position for others to assume anyway.
Any comments/improvements on her plans gratefully received. Caradoc says what everybody else is thinking “You seem to have missed how we divy up the magic items?” earning him a 1000 yard stare from Q. which he ignores.