Randolph

Randolph the monk couldn’t get away without making too much of a scene and was forced to participate in the purging. Though this was not as traumatic as little R. thought it would be. Carrying the dead bodies form the forest to the town and burning the village, without the villagers in side. “I guess Bartholomew isn’t that bad of a tyrannical dictator or Crooks is… up to something”
When Randy was leaving General Crooks was making arrangements with the peasantries. “This is interesting. But for the moment I have to run.” Grabbing his monkish garb, in a satchel he had left hidden, and wearing the new found armor underneath the robes Randy headed out spear-less and unskilled in archery.
“Good luck General Crooks, it looks like you're no man I need to be killing.”
Leaving the little valley half smoldering from the cover up death and the other half from a crispy forest, “my job here is done.” Thought to himself with a smirk. Walking away with a surplus map (i.e. cool stuff, of the general) in his hands Randy disappeared heading off to this “secret service” of Bartholomew’s. Randy was sure that they had something to do with his deed and he was sure going to get to the bottom of it.
Fumbling through the papers Randy found what he needed “hello Westport here I come.”