|
Jordas had originally come to the Cauldron to try and control the arcane power he was showing signs of. And from what he knew of wizards and sorcerers, mixing their magic with his own divine power wouldn't end well. He wanted to control both separately so nothing terrible happened to his person. He found help rather quickly, in the form of a man named En.
En claimed to have great arcane power, recently fired from the Bluecrater Academy. A Human man with what appeared to be a badly scared face. He said it was from an alchemy lab experiment that scared him, and killed a couple students. That event had cost him his livelihood, and now offers lessons at his home for those that can afford him. Jordas could only afford a few lessons, but his display of both arcane and divine power was of great interested to En. And, on the last of his few lessons, took him elsewhere in the Cauldron to meet someone he could find work for to further hone his craft.
What En forgot to mention was that the person in question, was a slaver.
Jordas wouldn't soon forget the ugly, monstrous visage of Kazmojen. Sitting in his chair, surrounded by his flunkies as he sized Jordas up. He had been striped of all his possessions, and forced to display his aptitude. He refused. Kazmojen, apparently, took that as a challenge, and shoved him into the hands of his 'information gatherer', Zarkad.
Zarkad was what one would call 'a chucklef**k', in that he only smiled when HE found something funny, and that usually meant lots of pain for you. Jordas lost track of time when he was stuck in those chambers. Searing flesh, blood, sweat, copper mixing with iron mixing with coal, carved flesh, pierced flesh. It felt like it had gone on for months. Until, mysteriously, Zarkad had declared his work 'finished' and left to have some lackeys collect Jordas and take him back to his cell. In those precious few minutes, he was able to act freely. He quickly went to slipping his bloody wrists out of their bindings, and managed to claw his way out of the ones around his ankles.
He was free.
Jordas quickly grabbed a curved knife from Zarkad's table, his favorite it had seemed due to the blood channel and the unnatural wave to it, and laid in wait for the guards. They walked in, and were about to sound the alarm, when the door slammed shut, and were descended upon by an angry man of Fharlanghn. They fell rather quickly, and he collected what he could from their bodies, patched himself up as best he could, and slipped out of the chamber. His mind whirling, he made his way towards his cell and moved past it, seeking out 'Lockup' where his equipment had been taken and were other future slaves' goods are kept to be sold off. He found the iron-wrought door and, with a set of keys he plucked form one of the dead guards, wrenched the door open and set about finding his things. They weren't there. All he could find was the modest holy symbol he walked into down with, carved from rosewood by his wife.
Wrapping it around his wrist, swore under his breath, and made his way back out. The studded armor he wore was actually a size too small, and made it hard to move at times. Managing to stick to the shadows and using his emerging arcane talent to create distractions, the holy man managed to slip away from his slate-skinned captors, and leave through an exit that led into a larger network of tunnels and caves. Taking a lit torch from a sconce, he began to make his way in. Knowing that he would either escape, or meet his end far away from home.