The Way of the Wicked (Inactive)

Game Master HighonHolyWater

You, some of the worst criminals of Talinguarde, await your sentence. Shall you meet your end? Or does Asmodeus have other plans, to use you to burn down Talinguarde perhaps...

Map of Branderscar
The Nine Lessons


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Your Narrator

In the kingdom of Talingarde, many crimes may send you to Branderscar Prison, but the sentence has but one meaning. You are wicked and irredeemable. Each of you received the same greeting when you arrived. You were held down by rough hands and branded upon the arm with a runic F. The mark signifies ‘forsaken’ and the painful scar is indelible proof that each of you has betrayed the great and eternal love of Mitra and his chosen mortal vassals.

Condemned, you face at best a life of shackles and servitude in the nearby salt mines. Others might await the “gentle” ministrations of the inquisitors so that co-conspirators may be revealed and confessions extracted. Perhaps, some of you will be spared this ordeal. Perhaps instead you have come to Branderscar to face the final judgment. In three days, the executioner arrives and the axe falls or the pyre will be lit. Through fire or steel, your crimes will be answered.

You have all been chained together in the same communal cell dressed in nothing but filthy, tattered rags. Manhandled and mistreated, any finery you once possessed is either ruined or long lost. No special treatment has been given any prisoner – male or female, commoner or noble – all of the forsaken are bound and imprisoned together in groups of two or three to a cell. Your feet are secured by iron cuffs tethered by one long chain. Your arms are secured to the wall above by manacles. A guard is posted right outside the cell day and night. Little thought is given to long term accommodations. At Branderscar, justice comes swift and sure.

Escape seems hopeless. You have all been well searched and every attempt to conceal anything on your person has failed, all you have now are some rotten rags that barely cover you. And if you could somehow slip your bonds and fly out of this prison, where would you go? Who from your former life would want anything to do with the forsaken? Despised, alone and shackled – all that you can do now is await your doom. For each of you, your old life is over. For each of you, hope is a fading memory. For each of you, justice will be fairly meted. And who can blame fair Talingarde after what each of you has done?


Male Human Cleric 3/Slayer 4/Gestalt 4 | AC 21, touch 12, flat-footed 19 | Fort +6, Ref+5, Will +6 | HP 52/52 | CMB +8, CMD 19 | Init +1 | Perception +9 | Condition: None |
Spells:
1st 4/4, 2nd 3/3
| Alias: Andrel

Lord of Darkness, hear my prayer. Though my life approaches its end, I ask not for the salvation of my life or my soul. I have failed You in Your works, and failure is rightly punished. I ask only that whatever agents You may yet have working in Talingarde may continue Your work, destroying the weak and failed society of Mitra, and replacing it with a strong, ordered society based upon Your teachings. I shall pray for this every day until I am no longer able to, my Lord. My soul is, as always, Yours to do with as You wish. Amen.

Opening his eyes after finishing his silent prayer, Kelvar looked about his surroundings. A guard stood outside the small, dirty cell. A filthy cell to go with his filthy form, he thought. The clothes he had been wearing were little more than rags, and he looked worse than a beggar. His arm yet hurt from being branded as one of the Forsaken, and he felt somewhat stiff from the bruises he'd gained in his arrest. He turned his study from his cell to his cellmates, three in all. One looked to be a demonic creature of some variety, and the other was a Dwarf. There was something familiar about him, though. He felt as though he'd seen this particular Dwarf before.

Suddenly, it him. With a low chuckle, he looked at the Dwarf and asked, "Well, 'Father', what could you have done to get yourself thrown into this hole?"


Male Dwarf

Father Iscar lay awkwardly sprawled against the back of the cell wall, massaging his aching feet from the forced march to one of the earlier garrisons. After the luxury of a rather successful priesthood (current circumstances aside), he hadn't had to walk that far for a very, very long time. Since being thrown in here, Iscar had paid precious little attention to his cellmates or his surrounding, so deep was he in thought. What is the first rule of playing the long con? Commit. If you don't commit and follow it through, it all comes tumbling down. And at this point - baring some Asmodeus-damned miracle - my situation may turn into a very short con....

Jarred out of his musings by the sudden address, Iscar looks up at the person talking to him. Like Iscar himself, the tall human looks worse for wear with his filthy rags and knotted hair. Poking through the tattered cloth, Iscar notices a patchwork of aged scars across his body. Something about the man's mannerisms seems familiar, but Iscar cannot put a name to the face.

"Hello young man. Although you seem to know me, I must beg your forgiveness, I can't seem to place you. People often say that my kind remember everything, but it's really only grudges that we hold on to." With a fake chuckle calculated to keep the mood light whilst he stalls for time, Iscar checks the rest of the cell . Standing a bit away, a towering beast of a thing appears to be watching the conversation. Judging by the skin, hair and eyes, Iscar assumes it must be diabolic in nature and therefore someone Iscar can probably be a little more honest with. This young man is more difficult though. He knows I'm a priest, so for now I'll try the innocent-old-man card and we'll see how it plays out.

"As to what I'm here for? Well, I believe the church of our blessed mother Mitra - may that whore burn forever in a pit of fire snakes - was quite fond of my morning sermons, but not so fond of my evening sermons. A few people in Green Hill took to worshiping the Forbidden One, and as their spiritual leader I took the blame. The church, in their holy wisdom, saw fit to place me here pending an inquisition that I'm sure will prove the verisimilitude of my innocence". Not technically a lie, and believable enough for him to have been thrown in here.

"And yourself? What have you done to earn that pretty new scar on your arm?"


Anti-Paladin 2//Magus 2 | HP 20/23 | AC 14/10/14 | Fort +7 | Ref +3 | Will +5 |

Cold, raw, the manacles dug into her wrists. Rosemary sat in the dark, not dark for her though. The dark was her ally and she saw clear as the day in these shadows. Tugging futilely at her chains, the unfairly beautiful Dhampir stifled an ironic laugh, letting out a bit of a chortle.

So scantily clad, and bound. Normally a fun time ensues. She thought with mirth to herself. The rags were entirely too revealing for this setting. She maybe able to use her natural gifts to coerce one of these guards, but Mitrans were all so honor bound and posturing, they only ever got decedent behind closed doors.

She could still smell the burnt flesh of her arm. A sweet pain that had been. Rose could still taste the elation she received from the branding. Her old headmistress' voice croning in her head 'There's something so very wrong with you Rose' the old hag had always said.

Who were they to judge, all people held the darkness within, she just let it out. Rose whispered under her breath. "Dark Lady, Zura, hear me. Help me from this prison. Free me from this punishment, that I might devour the flesh of my enemies. That I might bathe in their blood before their families. And should I fall, grant me a place, in the eternal night of Nesh, hunting the sheep of men that live there."

The chains gave a rattle as she tugged at them again, to no avail. Who was in this cell with her, she saw other forms, unmoving. "Who's there?" she called out in a voice that cracked. Her usually sultry voice that purred honey was ragged from dehydration and shaky. I am afraid. she thought, astonished. Faced with her own death, Rosemary held in a tear and worked to steady her breathing, which was ragged.


Male Human Sorcerer (Arcane [Sage])/ Alchemist (Vivisectionist) 1 Gestalt | HP 13/13 | AC 13, touch 13, Flat-footed 10 | CMB -1 | CMD 12 | Fort +3 Ref +5 Will +2 | Init. +3 | Perception +4

Caprin sat huddled in the corner of his cell, his arms at an odd angle to accommodate his manacles. The dim light of the cell, along with the shadowed forms of his cellmates, unnerved him greatly. Now, now, Caprin. Don't lose your head quite yet, he thought to himself. There'll be plenty of time for that in a few days.

His thoughts turned to his home, and how he got to his position. For all his intellect, he couldn't fathom how his relatively minor faux pas -Not a crime! Merely a blunder!- warranted being sent to Branderscar. No one had died, after all, and there was no rape or burglary involved whatsoever. Honestly! A few incisions and pinpricks is hardly worth making this big a fuss over.

Caprin started as one of his cellmates spoke up, a lithe and pale woman with black hair. "That is a very good question. I, for one, am definitely here. As, it seems, are you." Caprin tugged against his chains for what must have been the tenth time in the last half hour, unsurprised but still saddened by their sturdiness. "To be honest, I could think of several people who I'd rather be here than myself. The accommodations aren't to my liking." His arms itched, and once again he yearned to break free, to unleash the bolts of raw magic he so craved to let loose. Ye gods, I want to blast something SO BAD right now. Hell, I'd kill for a shot at the flimsiest cantrip I know.


Dhampir Knight Captain Incorporeal | HP: 80/80 | HD 9/9 | Thirst 2/2 | Charm 1/1 | Wind 1/1 | Surge 1/1| Indomitable 0/1 | Inspiration
Stats:
AC 20 | Str +7 Dex +0(+2) Con +6 Int +0 Wis +0 Cha +2 | Initiative +0 | Passive Perception 14, Darkvision

Beyond his filthy, tattered rags, Carnadine is tall and slender with well-defined musculature. He appears statuesque with a milky white complexion and unearthly human beauty. His jet black hair, that is normally swept back to form a widow’s peak, is disheveled. But it’s his piercing blue eyes that grab your attention when you first saw him.

"It is strictly and philosophically true that there is no such thing as chance or accident; since these words do not signify anything really existing, anything that is truly an agent or the cause of any event; but they merely signify man's ignorance of the real and immediate cause." He says in the sweet diction of a classical actor. You think the line is from a play but cannot place it. He does not make eye contact smiling at the floor. He is probably mad.


Male Human Cleric 3/Slayer 4/Gestalt 4 | AC 21, touch 12, flat-footed 19 | Fort +6, Ref+5, Will +6 | HP 52/52 | CMB +8, CMD 19 | Init +1 | Perception +9 | Condition: None |
Spells:
1st 4/4, 2nd 3/3
| Alias: Andrel

Murdering the lying priests of Mitra such as yourself, 'Father'. After all, someone must punish you for the lies of your weak, pathetic god. Those of your flock who embraced your Forbidden One, Asmodeus, have chosen a far better god to embrace than yourself. But then, it was you and those like you who failed to see the abuse my father brought upon me. It was you who lied about Mitra's goodness and justice, and then did nothing to show it. I only wish the guards would let me see your inquisition, so I can see your suffering.

He continued to smile all through his speech, enjoying the sight of this priest of Mitra chained in Branderscar. He truly believed that this priest got what he deserved, and wanted him to suffer, not just for the crime he was in for, but for neglecting the signs of abuse in his youth. He hoped Asmodeus could claim his soul, and cause it to burn for all eternity next to his. That would make his eternal suffering far sweeter.


Male Dwarf

Iscar continued to observe the young man whilst he lectured him. His vehemence was certainly impressive, even if it was misguided. Oh, this pup certainly has a bark to it, and it seems given a chance he'd gladly show me his bite. Still, if he's willing to throw Asmodeus' name around so freely he must be a like-minded follower of My Liege. Maybe it's time to try another tact.

"Ah, I'm sorry to hear of the suffering you have clearly gone through my son. It's a tragedy when the innocent bear the sins of the father. I can guarantee you, however, that you have never met a 'lying priest' quite like myself." What had previously been a near-jovial tone of voice now rolled with ice, earth and gravity. "You may find that put before Asmodeus..." at this Iscar's raised a sharp eyebrow at his libeller "... you may be found wanting, at least compared to his most devoted servants."


Male Human Cleric 3/Slayer 4/Gestalt 4 | AC 21, touch 12, flat-footed 19 | Fort +6, Ref+5, Will +6 | HP 52/52 | CMB +8, CMD 19 | Init +1 | Perception +9 | Condition: None |
Spells:
1st 4/4, 2nd 3/3
| Alias: Andrel

"Oh, I know I failed Him when I was caught attempting to murder an archbishop in Dreyven, and I know he will not grant me a second chance. I fully anticipate my eternal torture, and do not hide from it or seek any sort of salvation. Asmodeus's plans will continue whether I am alive or not, and he will destroy this Mitran abomination. But, 'Father', you have yet to say my name. Do you not recognize me from Green Hill?"

Even as he said this to the priest who had done nothing to save him from his abuse, he though to himself, He speaks the name of Asmodeus aloud? No priest of Mitra has ever done that. The change from his jubilant self to cold, collected...I am surprised. Apparently there is more to Iscar than I had ever thought. Could he secretly be a follower of the Lord of the Pit? Or is he simply trying to put me off balance?

He leaned back against the rough stone wall, still smiling as he waited to see if the Dwarf would recognize him.


Dhampir Knight Captain Incorporeal | HP: 80/80 | HD 9/9 | Thirst 2/2 | Charm 1/1 | Wind 1/1 | Surge 1/1| Indomitable 0/1 | Inspiration
Stats:
AC 20 | Str +7 Dex +0(+2) Con +6 Int +0 Wis +0 Cha +2 | Initiative +0 | Passive Perception 14, Darkvision

After his initial performance stressing the importance of fate, Carnadine chooses not to enter the debate measuring the length of his faith in Asmodeus. Instead, he starts calling to the rodent residents of the prison in order to gather information.

To his fellow prisoners, he makes strange squeaks and chirps while surveying the corners between walls and floors.

Vampiric Empathy (Su): Though dhampirs often relate poorly to humanoids, some share an affinity with baser creatures. These dhampirs gain the ability to communicate with bats, rats, and wolves as if under the effects of a speak with animals spell (caster level equal to 1/2 the dhampir's Hit Dice). In addition, they gain a +2 racial bonus on Diplomacy checks when dealing with these animals. Whenever these dhampirs initiate an exchange, animals begin with a starting attitude of indifferent.
Diplomacy to improve attitude vs. first indifferent rat DC 15 -4 Cha = 11 DC: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (14) + 10 = 24


Male Dwarf

Iscar was startled by the question. He had just assumed that the boy was speaking in generalities when he said that Iscar was at fault for his abuse. But if the boy was from Green Hill then his suffering was likely directly his fault. Leading Mitran into violent criminal behaviour then offering them a way out through Asmodeus had always been one of the Father's favourite gambits. Which of my sheep had tempers? There was Talvin Foreiger, Slajow Raath, Groven Steelback, the Vicchi brothers, Syllisia Klah and of course the Mylan Incid-...

"Young Master Mylan. I apologize for not recognising you sooner, the last few days have been a bit taxing on my faculties." The father's voice and mannerisms seemed to have shifted back to that of an accommodating uncle, eager to hear of the latest family news. "You certainly have grown up a bit since I last saw you. It must be - what - 4 or 5 years since the unfortunate incident with you father? You know, it took them such a long time to find his body it was almost impossible to tell who... oh I mean what was the cause of death."

It appears I fished for the wrong Mylan. Asmodeus: you never cease to amaze me. A quick prayer, although Iscar's reverence to the Lord of the Pit had always been one of professional admiration. Certainly devout in it's own right, just less flowery.

"Well, I'm sad to hear that you were caught. If you'd succeeded I may have gotten a promotion, and avoided winding up here with you." A wry chuckle. "But then, I wouldn't have had the pleasure of your company, and to be fair, I fear the witch hunters have been preparing an inquisition chamber for me for quite some time."

Shadow Lodge

Female Human Slayer/1 -- Rogue(unchained)/1 -- Arcanist(Blade Adept)(Gestalt)/2 -- (HP: 18/19; AC17; FF14; T13; F+2, R+6, W+5; Perc: +7, Init +3)

The pale and rather unhealthy looking stands in the dark cell. She can easily hear voices from the other cells, but they are not loud enough to understand. In addition, she can see the flickering light from several torches spread about the cell block. However, none of these seem to spread light far enough to enable her to see any of the other prisoners.

Being unsure of what these other prisoner's are here for, she remains quiet, waiting and listening, hoping to hear something of use, but expecting her visit with the executioner to arrive far too soon.

Yzera seems to be by herself, so no communication at this point.


Your Narrator

The way I run lighting is that even if there is some darkness between you and the light source you can still see what that light source reveals. As the torches light is dim for another 20ft past the aura shown on the map, Yzera (and others without darkvision or low light vision) can see Rosemary, Caprin, Kaath and Iscar. Those without special vision also can't see Yzera, Carnadine or Kelvar.

Carnadine is unable to hear any of the ambient noises that might give away the presence of any critters inhabiting the prison due to the discussion going on, even hushed. Nevertheless he attempts his communication with rat-like sounds. Only a couple of minutes later he hears some scratching coming closer and sqeaking. The rat seems to feel the connection you have with animals and with some small communication it is agreeable to requests.
The rat is friendly to Carnadine for 1d4 ⇒ 2 hours and will agree to most any request that is not against its nature or put it in peril.


Dhampir Knight Captain Incorporeal | HP: 80/80 | HD 9/9 | Thirst 2/2 | Charm 1/1 | Wind 1/1 | Surge 1/1| Indomitable 0/1 | Inspiration
Stats:
AC 20 | Str +7 Dex +0(+2) Con +6 Int +0 Wis +0 Cha +2 | Initiative +0 | Passive Perception 14, Darkvision

I think the rat is Helpful, because Carnadine exceeded DC 15 -4 Cha +5 two steps = 16

Carnadine smiles widely as a rat approaches. Sharp, white extraordinarily large canine teeth are clearly evident. In a series of squeaks and chirps, he speaks to the rat.

rat conversation:
More conversational, but I'm packaging all of my questions together to minimize posts.

"Hello, my new friend. I'm trapped. After you search the area within these stone walls which enclose me, please return and report if there are any trapped humanoids who can speak to you, any humanoids who are not trapped, any being that is not a humanoid or rat. Please also call your rat friends and bring them here, so I can make friends with them, too."


Male Human Technomancer 5

No horror at all at the fact I killed fellow priests of Mitra, and he WISHES I'd succeeded at murdering that archbishop for a promotion? Devoted to Asmodeus or not, he is not heavily devoted to Mitra.

He briefly thought over the words Iscar had spoken over in his mind, and suddenly made a connection. "Every service, you preached of Mitra's justice and compassion for those in need. Yet you did nothing to help me. I never saw you truly practice what you preached. How long ago did you turn your back on her? Do you, perhaps, follow a more...ordered master?"


Male Dwarf

Iscar looked out past his cellmates, trying to evaluate whether the guard posted outside were paying any heed to the conversation. Two minds are better than one... although the lad is pretty brash, if an opportunity presents itself I'd be better with an ally. Let's see if he has his wits about him.

"Let's just say that some people fail to practice what they preach, whilst others fail to preach what they practice..."

dice:

Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 29To see if the guards are paying attention to the cellmates conversations.
Bluff(Secret Message): 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (1) + 15 = 16 To pass his religious persuasion to Kevlar without the guards knowing.

gosh I wish those were backwards

Shadow Lodge

Female Human Slayer/1 -- Rogue(unchained)/1 -- Arcanist(Blade Adept)(Gestalt)/2 -- (HP: 18/19; AC17; FF14; T13; F+2, R+6, W+5; Perc: +7, Init +3)

Picking up some mention of an ordered master, Yzera's ears perk up.
Who is this "ordered master"? Some connection to the Red Mantis? Perhaps some other deity banned by the Mitrans?


Male Oni-Spawn Blood Conduit/Sacred Fist Gestalt 2 HP: 22/22 Bloodrage: 14/14 Blessings: 4/4
Stats:
AC 14 TAC 13 FF 13 CMD 20| Fort +6 Ref +1 Will +4| Init +1|Perception +7 Sense Motive +7| Darkvision

Something felt right. This sentence, this situation, this cell, even the company he'd found himself with, it all felt right. His tattered rags, the cold-to-the-touch stones of the prison walls, the manacles that constrained him, the flame of the torch set across the room, the dull burn from the brand set against his hard flesh. His eyes swept slowly around the room. "Yes," he thought to himself, "this feels right." Had he been blessed with visions, perhaps in dreams? Or was it a natural sense of deja-vu? He dare not question it. He looked into the torch flame, and below the mutterings of his cellmates, he prayed.

"Prince of Darkness, Lord of Hell, to The First, I pray. May I find the strength and resolve to bring unto the followers of Mitra what they have brought unto yours. May I break these chains and walk in the path you have destined for me. Lord Asmodeus, I will see to it that I bring vengeance to those who worship Mitra. My soul unto thee I give. Amen."

Upon finishing his prayer, he quickly diverts his eyes away from the torch flame and down towards his cellmates. His pupils, red as blood, focuses on the dwarf.

"A failed priest of Mitra? Pray to your pitiful god that I do not break my way out of these shackles and bathe myself in your blood, you coward."


Your Narrator

Squeaks, scratches and tail flicks(Carnadine):

Yes it is helpful, I mixed up my words.
The rat scurries off and after a while comes back to you and communicates with more information.
'Many like you not rat. Some move some stay out in the light. I must stay in shadows. Bigger one than you, others like you. Nine'
Was that 9 prisoners? And guards patrolling? Though communicating is easy, understanding a rat's mind and way of thinking is a little more difficult.

Perception DC 15:

When you listen out for the guards nearby you can hear something.
"That Blackerly is a damned thief! That game was rigged last night!"
“If it’s rigged, why do you keep going back to the gatehouse then?”
"The beer’s passable."
A laugh is heard. “Drinkin’ on duty! Damn, this place has gone to hell. Captain Callidan would have never tolerated that crap. That’s for sure!”
"Captain Callidan … he left, what? Two years ago?"
“Almost three and since then the place has been straight down the shitter. That old wizard never leaves his tower. He stays up there reading his books and petting his owl!”
"Petting his owl? Is that what they call it these days?"
The guards enjoy a bit of a laugh. They don't seem to have been able to hear you over their conversation for the moment.


Male Human Cleric 3/Slayer 4/Gestalt 4 | AC 21, touch 12, flat-footed 19 | Fort +6, Ref+5, Will +6 | HP 52/52 | CMB +8, CMD 19 | Init +1 | Perception +9 | Condition: None |
Spells:
1st 4/4, 2nd 3/3
| Alias: Andrel

dice:
Sense Motive to pick up innuendo: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24
Perception to hear Kaath's prayer: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (10) + 7 = 17

Kelvar grinned in the dim light and nodded, understanding Iscar's message. He still didn't trust or like him, but another follower of Asmodeus was a sign. If there were others here...there may be opportunities. Asmodeus may yet burn my soul for eternity, but perhaps he has more in store for me than I previously believed.

His eyes flicked to the demonic-looking creature as he growled his threat towards Iscar. A powerful-looking creature, he would be useful if they escaped, but not if he murdered his other cellmate. If any escape attempt were to happen, they would need everyone to succeed.


Male Oread Tetori monk/ Blight Druid 1 Sheet.

Chains.Chains.Chains.Chains.Chains.CHAINS.

I must break these chains, I must leave.

Kord's granite skin blended far to well with the dank walls around him. In the corner he sat, shadows complimenting his roughly hewn body. His whispers crept out of the corner like Bog fog creeps along the waters surface.

" Do any of you wish to live? leave? I do.

I hunger for revenge, Only kord chooses what brands lay rest upon his skin.

I will feed that hunger with or without you"


Dhampir Knight Captain Incorporeal | HP: 80/80 | HD 9/9 | Thirst 2/2 | Charm 1/1 | Wind 1/1 | Surge 1/1| Indomitable 0/1 | Inspiration
Stats:
AC 20 | Str +7 Dex +0(+2) Con +6 Int +0 Wis +0 Cha +2 | Initiative +0 | Passive Perception 14, Darkvision

Carnadine smiles at his new friend and continues to converse in squeaks and chirps.

rat translation:

"Where are the ones that stay in the light? Where is the one bigger than me?" Carnadine works with what he has figuring the ones in the light are the guards.


Male Dwarf

Hearing the guards' discussion, a brief spark of hope filled Iscar. Drinking, gambling and disquiet in the ranks of Branderscar? If these guards were the prison's 'tout-venant' - he often lapsed into dwarven when scheming - then there may be a chance of getting out of here. You can't con an honest man, but a gambler will always take the bait.

Whilst Iscar was listening to the guards, he also noticed that the other prisoners around the room seemed to be equally starting up conversations. All though he couldn't see them through the darkness, the Father thought he heard 2 or 3 voices (and some kind of vermin?) straight across the room, and another gravelly voice begging for revenge in the far corner. Far more clearly however, Iscar heard the death threats emanating from his other cellmate. Force meets force on this one I think.

"Good day (or evening) my fiery friend. Before I meet your request and begin praying for the structural integrity of your shackles, would it be rude of me to enquire as to your heritage? I am intrigued as to whether your blood - should I choose to bathe in it myself - is Abyssal or Infernal?"


Your Narrator

Before any of you are able to continue your discussions you hear a commotion from behind the door. Soon it opens and a group of six heavily armed and ready for trouble guards come into the room along with a fat well-dressed sergeant. You all recognise his as Tomas Blackerly, the one who personally held the brand that marked each of you and laughed.

Right now though he seems a little dazed. He looks and points at Father Iscar the dwarf.

“You there! That’s the scum! Get ‘em unshackled. If any of you makes trouble, they’ll earn a thrashing! Today’s your lucky day, scum. You’ve got a visitor. How you ever warranted such a fine lady is beyond me. Seems she wants to say good-bye. Now step lively. We wouldn’t want to keep her waiting.”

Two of the guards advance into the cell, unlocking the door and Iscar's shackles, clubs ready in case any of the prisoners decide to cause trouble. He is escorted out by Blackerly into the other room and into the meeting room.


Your Narrator

Iscar:

You are shoved into a chair. In the room with you is a hauntingly beautiful woman in an elegant black dress and soft silken veil. She looks as if she is headed to a funeral. Her hair is so platinum as to almost be white and her eyes are a vibrant almost unearthly green. She clearly has been weeping.

“Oh, dearest,” proclaims the unfamiliar woman. “I’m so relieved you’re alive!” She quickly turns to Tomas. “Could we please have a moment alone, good sir? For pity’s sake?”

Tomas goes blank for a bit and then quickly agrees. "Of course, my lady. For you, 'tis no problem."

As soon as the guards leave, Tiadora’s demeanor immediately changes. She drops all pretense of grief or concern. She is immediately all business.

“Have you forgotten me, dearest?” the unexpected visitor says with a smirk, dropping her pretense of grief. “Call me Tiadora. We possess a mutual friend who would like to meet you and your fellow cell-mates. Unfortunately, our friend is unwilling to visit you in your present rather shabby accommodations so it seems you must escape. Don’t be so dour. Just because it’s never been done before is no reason you can’t be the first."

“If you manage that, cross the moors on the outskirts of town. On the old Moor Road you’ll see a manor house with a single lantern burning in the second story. There our mutual friend waits. That is all I know. He did want me to give you this.”

She takes off her silken veil and wipes away a few fake tears with it. “Something to remember me by, dearest.”
I have added a pic of the Veil item onto the map.
This appears to be a fine silk veil of gossamer cloth. Only as it is held and closely inspected can you see small cloth patches of various shapes.


Male Dwarf

Iscar offers no resistance as he is manhandled out of his shackles and away from his cellmates. Upon seeing Blackly and his guards approaching, Iscar's mannerisms and appearance have again shifted to that of a welcoming, portly priest. He thanks the guards as they release the shackles, and offers blessing to Mitra for their service with such wicked crooks. Of course, this is only whispered so as to not draw the sergeant's attention.

I can't think of any lady who would come to visit me, especially if it risked a connection with me being known. Maybe one of the newest, most fervent sheep would be foolish enough but still.... The Father's musings continued as he walked to the meeting room.

GM:

Iscar watches the interaction between his guest and the Sergeant, inspecting both of them intently for any hint of motive. He notices the blank look on the Guard's face, but files it for later contemplation.

"Miss Tiadora, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I must say, I wasn't expecting a visit on death row, although it's was my duty as a holyworker to visit others. Might I also add, your company is already a vast improvement over my two cellmates." Iscar puts on his most winning smiling, hoping that a gentle, affable approach will afford him more information. I know nothing about this woman, but she clearly knows something about me.

"Pray-tell, who is this mutual friend of ours? I can't think of anyone off the top of my head who would have the connections to get you in here." Iscar drops this question innocently, whilst inspecting the fine veil that Tiadora has handed to him.

Dice:

Sense Motive (Tomas): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (13) + 9 = 22
Sense Motive (Tiadora): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (3) + 9 = 12
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (17) + 14 = 31
Appraise: 1d20 ⇒ 6


Your Narrator

Iscar:

You think that Tomas is likely under the effects of some enchantment.

Tiadora gives a knowing smile, "Of course I am, I can't say the same for the improvement of my own company however." When you ask of who, she smiles condescendingly, "The less you know the better dearest."


Male Dwarf

GM:

"Well, if our mutual friend is so eager to meet with us all, why isn't he providing any assistance? I can see you have bewitched Blackerly some how, can't that be of use in getting us out?"

That question was probably too braven, but Iscar was somewhat miffed at the rejection of his compliment. Maybe I've gotten sloppy in middle age, that smile used to open up anyone.


Your Narrator

Iscar:

"It does you no good to doubt our friend, dearest. He has provided you what assistance he can."

"Now that is a command that unfortunately he would never obey. I've helped you as much as I can."


Male Dwarf

GM:

"Fine. In that case, I look forward to seeing your most pleasant visage in a few days time miss Tiadora."

Iscar takes the veil and tangles it in amongst his rags as best as possible.


Male Human Cleric 3/Slayer 4/Gestalt 4 | AC 21, touch 12, flat-footed 19 | Fort +6, Ref+5, Will +6 | HP 52/52 | CMB +8, CMD 19 | Init +1 | Perception +9 | Condition: None |
Spells:
1st 4/4, 2nd 3/3
| Alias: Andrel

Kelvar watched as Iscar was escorted from the room, careful not to make any sudden moves with so many guards about. He speculated as to whom would be foolish enough to visit a man convicted of blasphemy and thrown into Branderscar. When one was thrown in here, anyone who knew them did their best to pretend they had never existed. After my execution, I will be lucky if they actually bother to bury me and don't just pitch my body into the sea. Whoever this lady is, she clearly has little in the way of sense, and if Iscar gives her up during his torture, she may well find herself in here next.

Still, he had to ensure his other cellmate didn't just kill the Dwarf. He also needed to find out about the others locked up here, and if they might be of use.

Thanks to the guards each carrying a torch, the light in the cell block was sufficient for him to see that in the cell across from him were what appeared to be three more humans, and in the cell next to them another human and...some sort of rock creature? A golem, perhaps?

Eight of us in all. I hope they are more skilled at stealth than combat. Attempting to fight our way out will likely end in our re-capture, or our deaths.

Shadow Lodge

Female Human Slayer/1 -- Rogue(unchained)/1 -- Arcanist(Blade Adept)(Gestalt)/2 -- (HP: 18/19; AC17; FF14; T13; F+2, R+6, W+5; Perc: +7, Init +3)

Yzera continues to watch through the other bars as the hallway is lit by the torches of the guards. She is surprised when one of the other prisoners, a short one, perhaps a dwarf, is led away from the cells. Perhaps his sentence was to be carried out early.

After the dwarf has been taken, she looks to her side and suddenly realizes that there is some person there. It is hard to make out the man's appearance due to the shadows, but whoever the person is, he appears to be dark skinned and heavy set.

Wonder what games these guards have for the midget? She says to nobody in particular.


Your Narrator

"Quiet there prisoner! No talking or there will be trouble!" One of the guards closest to Yzera's cell says rather loudly to her, then surveying the whole room. "That goes for the lot of you miserable forsaken."

Iscar:

Her message delivered, she rises and the guards return. Immediately, her demeanor once more changes and she is again a perfect picture of grief. “No, I can’t bear to leave you!” She gives you a kiss on the cheek. The kiss is ice-cold and feels somehow alien and inhuman. Tomas shakes his head. “I’m afraid it’s time, miss.”

She looks deep in Tomas’ eyes and says, “Thank you for letting me say good-bye. There’s no need to search my dearest. You are such a good friend for letting me see my dearest one more time.”

“Such a good friend,” Tomas repeats his voice almost mechanical. Then the watch sergeant seems to snap out of it and bows politely. “A pleasure, madam,”

She leaves unveiled. Her eyes meet yours one last time and she briefly gives a wicked smile. “Three days,” telepathically echoes in your mind. “Don’t disappoint me, dearest”.


As she leaves the guards escort you back to your cell. Once more you are secured in tightly locked bands around your ankles and your hands are shackled above your head. Once you are all secured Blackerly gives a contemptuous look over all the prisoners to check nothing is amiss and leaves with the guards. It is once again dark and quiet.

Shadow Lodge

Female Human Slayer/1 -- Rogue(unchained)/1 -- Arcanist(Blade Adept)(Gestalt)/2 -- (HP: 18/19; AC17; FF14; T13; F+2, R+6, W+5; Perc: +7, Init +3)

Yzera is rather surprised when the dwarf reappears, apparently unharmed. Deciding that she would prefer avoiding another beating, she quietly waits for the guards to leave before addressing anyone else.


Male Dwarf

Iscar patiently waits as he is marched back into the room and re-manacled. As the guards check that he is secure, he regards the others in the room. A few seconds after the sound of the room's lock clicking shut, he addresses the seven.

"A friend of mine - who wishes to remain unnamed for quite obvious reasons - has requested all of our company for a soirée in a few evenings time. Their envoy, a miss Tiadora, has given me directions to a house on the outskirts of town." Iscar speaks clearly and projects to make sure everyone in the room can hear, but not so loud that anyone next door should hear. He makes sure to sound like Tiadora has imparted more knowledge than she actually has. Bluff (disguise ignorance): 1d20 + 20 ⇒ (1) + 20 = 21

"Whilst under normal circumstances I'd prefer to leisurely ameliorate myself to you all, given our current circumstances I think brevity is paramount. My name is Iscar, although you may refer to me as Father or Padre if you prefer. I am a priest of Mitra and a servant of Asmodeus. I plan to be the first to escape Branderscar. Do any of you feel inclined to join me?"


Male Oni-Spawn Blood Conduit/Sacred Fist Gestalt 2 HP: 22/22 Bloodrage: 14/14 Blessings: 4/4
Stats:
AC 14 TAC 13 FF 13 CMD 20| Fort +6 Ref +1 Will +4| Init +1|Perception +7 Sense Motive +7| Darkvision

Kaath scoffs at the Father's question before he is interrupted by the guards. "It matters not whether my blood is abyssal or infernal" he mutters under his breath, "what matters is what I am willing to do with it." He watches as the portly priest is escorted out by Blackerly and their men.
He leans towards Kelvar and whispers to him "If only I had the chance to drive my fists through every last one of them, surely I would."

Once the guards return with Iscar, the brooding Kaath, with his blackened eyes and red pupils, looks the guards over, sizing them up.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 6 = 9
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24
He is looking to see what kind of weaponry they carry and if these are young guys, older guys, if they seem scared or confident

Letting the dwarf's words sink in, Kaath let's out a deep, hearty laugh.
"Bravo, Father. Bravo. An act of trickery that even Asmodeus would be proud of. I am not to die yet. Not here, not now. A man of your stature will need assistance, this I know. I will join you."


Your Narrator

Usually not a good idea to try to use skills and such against other PC's.

The guards carry clubs and also long swords at their waists. They range in ages but none seem especially old or young. They seem confident right now.


Male Dwarf

Will happily avoid it in future GM, Iscar just knows nothing about the other PCs yet and has control issues


Male Human Cleric 3/Slayer 4/Gestalt 4 | AC 21, touch 12, flat-footed 19 | Fort +6, Ref+5, Will +6 | HP 52/52 | CMB +8, CMD 19 | Init +1 | Perception +9 | Condition: None |
Spells:
1st 4/4, 2nd 3/3
| Alias: Andrel

Kelvar considered Iscar carefully. It appears I was right about Asmodeus having more planned for me than previously thought. Still, I know only Iscar, and him I trust not at all. I must be cautious.

"I will assist you in escape - I have no wish to die. However, it will be difficult to do so if we have not been provided with a way to quietly escape our chains and cells."


Male Human Sorcerer (Arcane [Sage])/ Alchemist (Vivisectionist) 1 Gestalt | HP 13/13 | AC 13, touch 13, Flat-footed 10 | CMB -1 | CMD 12 | Fort +3 Ref +5 Will +2 | Init. +3 | Perception +4

Caprin's eyes light up at Iscar's words. Oh, my! Things just got interesting. Caprin clears his throat and speaks. "To be perfectly honest, Father, I had every intention to attempt a suicidal prison break and go out in a blaze of glory. If you can make it so that I actually survive this ordeal, I will follow you to the ends of the earth."


Dhampir Knight Captain Incorporeal | HP: 80/80 | HD 9/9 | Thirst 2/2 | Charm 1/1 | Wind 1/1 | Surge 1/1| Indomitable 0/1 | Inspiration
Stats:
AC 20 | Str +7 Dex +0(+2) Con +6 Int +0 Wis +0 Cha +2 | Initiative +0 | Passive Perception 14, Darkvision

Carnadine intones in his rich baritone voice, "I will join you, servant of Asmodeus. Did this envoy provide you any tools to escape?"

Shadow Lodge

Female Human Slayer/1 -- Rogue(unchained)/1 -- Arcanist(Blade Adept)(Gestalt)/2 -- (HP: 18/19; AC17; FF14; T13; F+2, R+6, W+5; Perc: +7, Init +3)

A female from the darker corner of one of the cells speaks.
He Who Walks In Blood has not blessed me to simply die in this prison. I do not know this As-mo-dus of whom you speak, but I shall aid in your escape if it means freeing myself of these bonds.


Anti-Paladin 2//Magus 2 | HP 20/23 | AC 14/10/14 | Fort +7 | Ref +3 | Will +5 |

Kn(Religion): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (7) + 6 = 13

If that is enough to know this:
"Asmodeus is the Lord of Hell, the patron of the plane where your Mantis God makes his home." Rosemary responds to the dark haired lady.

A way out, a secret meeting, intriguing. The dark beauty thought to herself.

Rose lets out a frightening laugh, chimes in the night. "Oooh Padre, you would save us all? A good little priest? Will we walk together in the dark? In the dark there is safety." She says to the dwarf in a tone that suggests that the speaker is a bit unhinged.


Male Oread Tetori monk/ Blight Druid 1 Sheet.

Kord's emerald eyes glisten in between shadows, one brow raised.

The dwarf returns a hero. Thisss, this is good. But will he try to lead us? Is that a wolf I see, or a pidgen?

" I Am inclined so long as you promise me a chance at that blackerly's head. What say you Iscar?

Looking to his left, kord acknowledges yzera.

" Are you good with a blade?"

Shadow Lodge

Female Human Slayer/1 -- Rogue(unchained)/1 -- Arcanist(Blade Adept)(Gestalt)/2 -- (HP: 18/19; AC17; FF14; T13; F+2, R+6, W+5; Perc: +7, Init +3)

Yzera squints in an attempt to see the dimly lit oread.
I know how to fight with most normal weapons, swords included. My preference is wielding two sawtooth sabres. I doubt I will find them here as they are not the type of weapon one would expect to find in this Mitra worshipping land. Few here enjoy the feeling as the serrated blade rips through ones foes flesh.

Rosemary:

Holding off on responding to your statement. I do not know how common other deities are in this land, especially unusual ones such as Achaekek. Normally for this AP, knowledge of other religions other than Mitra is almost unknown. Thus, until I know how much the GM is making knowledge of about other deities known, especially when simply referencing one by his uncommon title, I shall wait to respond.


Male Dwarf

In response to both Mylan and the deep Baritone voice that he hears, Iscar gets out the veil that Tiadora left him. "My visitor left me her veil as a token of affection, but I suspect it is somehow of greater value in our escape efforts." Back in the privacy of the cell, Iscar takes the time to properly inspect the markings on the veil whilst he continues talking to the cellmates.

In response to the laughing woman, Iscar is a little more terse. "No miss, I don't plan to save you. If you're most comfortable in the dark, then I'm happy for you to stay here in this cell where it is plenty dark. I'm merely passing on a message from a friend, and invitation to dinner. If you're disinclined to join the rest of us, by all means go your own way. And may Asmodeusu spit worms on your grave."

"And of course you may have a chance at Blackery's head my friend, although I hope you will be furtive enough to choose a moment where his dismemberment won't interrupt our departure from Branderscar?"


Male Oread Tetori monk/ Blight Druid 1 Sheet.

”This is agreeable Iscar. " Kord's whispers dance about the room.

perception so see what it is Iscar is holding in his hands: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (15) + 7 = 22

Seemingly unphazed by yzera's colorful language Kord responds "For a short time every day I can mold a piece of iron or steel into a shape I desire, when the time arrives I will make something you may use. Unless... you are not in need of a weapon." A coy grin creeps across Kord's face, his crystalline teeth glimmer in the torch light.

Shadow Lodge

Female Human Slayer/1 -- Rogue(unchained)/1 -- Arcanist(Blade Adept)(Gestalt)/2 -- (HP: 18/19; AC17; FF14; T13; F+2, R+6, W+5; Perc: +7, Init +3)

Yzera shakes her hands in the shackles.
I am sure that I could harm people with my strength, the weak do not survive for long in the wild.

However, I much prefer blades. Especially sawtooth sabres, the bite of the teeth as they rip into flesh is something that one simply does not feel with straight blades or blunt weapons.


Your Narrator

Close examination of the veil by anyone holding it or in close proximity reveals small sewn on patches, in the shape of random things. There seems to be a total of ten of these patches, pictured as follows.
The item is shown on the map outlined in purple as big as I could make it. If you zoom in you can see the patches better.

  • A potion or flask filled with some liquid.
  • A bag or sack.
  • A dagger or knife.
  • What looks to be a depiction of a lockpick.
  • A pentagram of Asmodeus.
  • A window.
  • Another dagger or knife.
  • A lit lantern.
  • A pile of gold.
  • A coiled rope.

During the time you are discussing, one of the guards from beyond the door comes in to routinely check on you, causing all to go silent. He walks the length of the hall between cells inspecting each of you but does not come near the bars. Preferring to stay as far from you as possible. Filthy beasts, be glad to see you go. He mumbles, though loud enough that you would just catch it.

Sense Motive DC 20 (hunch):
He is simply trying to get a reaction from someone. Coupled with what was said previously, any outburst from prisoners could result in punishment. Their hate overwhelms their fear for now.


Your Narrator

Carnadine:

The rat seems to indicate that the bigger one is on its own held in place by iron links. Perhaps he means chains. He stays away as several brethren have been eaten for getting too close. It indicates the direction by pointing with its tail to the west.

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