Chapter Three - Return to the Mournland

37, Meepo and the kobold's axe beak manage to avoid the worst of the explosion, though they still are hit with several pieces of the former house. All around, timber falls from the night sky. The sound of small pieces of glass landing in the cobbled street continues for a few seconds. Then a moment of silence. The Guardians see the remains of a wooden foundation where the hideout once stood. Framing from the previous walls point outward from some point within. Torn and shredded remains of relics and books lay strewn about everywhere. Pieces of parchment gently flutter down like autumn leaves.

Sheriff gingerly pushes himself up from the ground. The lawforged having already taken a beating, is looking very rough. His signature hat is nowhere to be found. "Well, that was something, wasn't it?", Sheriff says to no one in particular. He swipes away at the dirt and splinters of wood as he straightens up and looks around. "No sign of the lout, then?"

Over the next minute, the ringing in Laulalith's ears slowly fades and the elf's vision comes back from the glowing red left from the brilliant green flash. A few helpful townsfolk come out to offer assistance and a golden dragon drops in.

"Good idea! I'll what I can find here." Vice replies before activating Mage hand and sifting through the rubble.

As he is using the magical hand to flick away scrapped wood, Vice says "I'm thinking Ikar just wanted to cover his escape. Classic misdirect, and then exit the stage. But maybe in his haste, he left something useful behind?"

Satisfied that he's found all he is going to, Vice gathers what he can, and prepares to head home. Then a though comes . . . "Sheriff, are Clyde or any other members of Ikar's team accounted for?"