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Way of the Wicked by GM SnowHeart

Game Master SnowHeart

Link to Maps and Handouts
Loot Chart - Google Docs Spreadsheet

INIT Rolls:

[dice=Inëlûkii]1d20+4[/dice]
[dice=Affyria]1d20+1[/dice]
[dice=Asturu]1d20+2[/dice]
[dice=Price]1d20+6[/dice]
[dice=Timo]1d20+1[/dice]
[dice=Daidalos]1d20+4[/dice]
-------------------
[dice=Enemy]1d20+1[/dice]
[dice=Enemy]1d20+1[/dice]
Perception Checks:
[dice=Inëlûkii]1d20+7[/dice]
[dice=Affyria]1d20+9[/dice]
[dice=Asturu]1d20+6[/dice]
[dice=Price]1d20+10[/dice]
[dice=Timo]1d20+2[/dice]
[dice=Daidalos]1d20+2[/dice]


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Maps for WotW | Maps for CotCT

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. 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. 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?

Before posting here, please get settled into the Discussion thread and make introductions. Once you've done so and if you're confident you don't want to make any further tweaks or changes to your character, you're welcome to post here. I'm going to give y'all an opportunity to RP and meet in character before things start to happen.

Further, if you follow the "Link to Maps and Handouts" link at the top of this thread, you'll land on a Google Slides presentation with images of your branding and Branderscar Prison. On the second slide is a map of the prison cell block. The PCs start in cell 18A. Once you've all checked in, I will update the map with tokens for your characters.


Maps for WotW | Maps for CotCT

Most of you are bound in a similar fashion, though for one it seems particular care has been taken. His hands are bound in silvered manacles inscribed with sacred runes. Ever since their application at his capture, the shifter has found himself unable to change shape. They are now attached to a chain above his head in a fashion similar to the other prisoners. His indignities do not end there, however.

A leather mask has also been buckled to his face, covered the lower part of it. Holes allow for breathing through the nose, and while talking is possible, the result muffled due to a gag built into the mask. Finally, a collar has been placed around his neck, a grisly affair with spikes pointing in towards the wearer's neck. Any movement that results in the flexing or expansion of the wearer's neck muscles results in stabbing pain.

The inquisitors have attempted to be thorough with this one.

Muffled conversation is possible, shifting is prevented, sonic effects with your mouth are possible but will require some sort of roll due to automatic damage from the collar.


18/28 hp, AC 12 T 12, FF 10 bat: 16, 16t, 14f; F 7, R 6, W 4*, bab 2, melee 2, ranged 4; cmb 2 cmd 14; init +2; sonic blast rta 2d4+3, hero 3 | bloodmarked (werebat-kin) skinwalker vibrokineticist / 3 | image
skills:
acro 8, diplo 6, fly 8*, intim 5, know engrg 3, know local 8, ling 3, perc 7*, perform: sing 7, stealth 9, umd 7 | *+2 at night

oh that's just mean, lol

Ineluki hangs in his chains, his eyes cast downward most of the time... when he does look up, the look of utter despair and despondency is etched in what's visible of his face and eyes... He casts glances at the others in the cell. If he wonders at their crimes, he doesn't ask questions, for it looks like it might be difficult for him to speak or be understood.

He does give little tugs at the chains now and again, with a small moan of pain at the gesture when he does... His dead-white hair hangs limp around his face. His eyes appear to be deep black in the dim light of the cell... perhaps they are just dark brown?

When the guard does enter to check the prisoners, deliver a few kicks, and the occasional meager meal and fluids, Ineluki is quick to mutter a muffled "I hate you... I hope you and your seed dry up and die. I hope your master gets maggots in his scrotum, you bag of shiotte" In truth, you must be close and concentrate very hard to make sense of what he says behind the mask, but he obviously bears no love for the guards or their captain.


Maps for WotW | Maps for CotCT

I'm lawful good. I couldn't possibly be 'mean'. ;-)

The guards who pass through on their patrols have one of two reactions to Inelukii's curses: laughter, or a crack of a club to his torso...and usually both. "Piss an' moan all yeh want, bastard. Yer guts 'll soon be strung across the courtyard fer the crows an' then we'll see whose balls get the maggots."

Three days of this before the sentencing.


18/28 hp, AC 12 T 12, FF 10 bat: 16, 16t, 14f; F 7, R 6, W 4*, bab 2, melee 2, ranged 4; cmb 2 cmd 14; init +2; sonic blast rta 2d4+3, hero 3 | bloodmarked (werebat-kin) skinwalker vibrokineticist / 3 | image
skills:
acro 8, diplo 6, fly 8*, intim 5, know engrg 3, know local 8, ling 3, perc 7*, perform: sing 7, stealth 9, umd 7 | *+2 at night

Ineluki cringes at the aspersions on the lack of marital blessing on his birth, but masks the expression quickly. No need to give the guards more knowledge of him than necessary, and it only takes a second for him to realize the word is being used figuratively. He silently curses the father who sired him... He twists in his chains, eliciting another groan of pain...

After the guards leave he turns his attention to the other prisoners he's been chained with...


HP 18/18; AC 12/12/10; Saves +2/+3/+2; Init +4; Per +2
Uses:
1/1 Pyrotechnics, 3/6 Arcane Reservoir, 3 Hero Points
Male Emberkin Aasimar Exploiter Wizard 3;Current Guise, Base Appearance, Journal

*Cough* Have you even met any Lawful Stupid paladins? If anything, LG is the worst of them all.

The blond man says nothing for most of your incarceration, and remains in what seems like good spirits as he... meditates? He has his eyes shut, and calmly breathes in and out as he leans against the wall. His arms are scarred, but not terribly so, and a faint golden tattoo spirals along each of them. You may be imagining it, but it seems to pulse ever so slightly in time with his breath- or it might just be a trick of the unsteady light.


Male Human Antipaladin (Knight of the Sepulcher, Tyrant) 1
Stats:
AC 9; Fort: +4, Ref: -1; Will: +5; Int: -1; Perc: +2; Hp's 13/13

The pale man raises his head, looking through narrowed eyes at the guards as they move through and throw their taunts out. Below his eyes that are as dark as night and from within his stringy, sweat-soaked hair that hangs down below his shoulders as it covers most of his face - a devilish grin forms. Your time is coming, fools. Enjoy your childish taunts while you still live because that will be the last thing you enjoy once we are no longer prisoners. He lowers his head back down, utterly confident that freedom will soon be theirs.


18/28 hp, AC 12 T 12, FF 10 bat: 16, 16t, 14f; F 7, R 6, W 4*, bab 2, melee 2, ranged 4; cmb 2 cmd 14; init +2; sonic blast rta 2d4+3, hero 3 | bloodmarked (werebat-kin) skinwalker vibrokineticist / 3 | image
skills:
acro 8, diplo 6, fly 8*, intim 5, know engrg 3, know local 8, ling 3, perc 7*, perform: sing 7, stealth 9, umd 7 | *+2 at night

"M-m-morthos? 'Sthat you?" the muffled voice calls out softly across the cell.. "Thought you were dead already... are we the only two left?" Someone else survived? But for how much longer? the others must have stayed silent if our leader yet lives... Good... but by now we're all doomed unless we can find a way out of here... but be realistic, it's futile to expect escape or rescue from this forsaken place.

He looks at the blond fellow with the odd golden tattoos. "Who're you and why are you here?" he asks, barely understandable through the mask. After asking, before Daidalos has a chance to answer, Ineluki moans softly...

Gods be damned.. I gotta piss... why do they put girls in here with us?..There's no privacy and no dignity. I'd like to put all these guards in chains and let them see how they like it. He wriggles a little, uncomfortably...


HP 21 | AC/T/FF 14/12/12 | CMD 17 | F+3 / R+3 / W+8 | Init +6; PER +10 | Image

A woman (who looks far more like a fishwife than a criminal) is chained along the wall with the rest of the wretched crew. She is the picture of a miserable prisoner - stoop-shouldered and teary-eyed whenever the guards' eyes fall on her, cringing at their approach. She periodically sniffles, "They tortured me; I had to confess to whatever they said! I'm not virtuous but I didn't do anything to deserve this. I swear it!"

But when the guards' attention lapses, a change comes over the brunette that suggests she is far more than a victim of circumstance. Her back straightens and the defeated look in her eyes is replaced by patient cunning. She carefully examines every aspect of their cell, looking for weaknesses in the bars, manacles, and chains... a drip of water steadily rusting a bolt could present an opportunity for exploitation. She also watches the guards' patterns - memorizing their meal schedule and shift rotations. She listens to their gossip.

And most importantly, Price quietly tests her chains and manacles. Her arms knot with fairly impressive muscles as she strains the bindings in an attempt to subtly weaken them.

Bluff: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (16) + 12 = 28 Victim of Fate act
Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (11) + 8 = 19 Looking for weaknesses
STR: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (11) + 3 = 14 Testing for weaknesses in the manacles/chains


Maps for WotW | Maps for CotCT

The same guard who put his club to Inelukii mocks Price's protestations of innocence. "Sure, missy, sure. Yer all innocent an' pure as the snow." He stops in front of her. Something resembling sympathy comes to his face, but it's tinged with indifference and contempt. "It don' matter what I think, miss. The court found ya guilty, an' soon yer guts 'll be splayed out for all t' see."

He starts to turn around to leave, then pauses, and his club lashes out and cracks Price's wrist. The nervous response causes her hand to open, revealing her birthmark and whatever simulacrum of sympathy played out on the guard's face is now replaced fully with contempt. He pins the open hand to the wall with the tip of the club as he snarls, "An' we all know you ain't innocent, whore o' the devils."

He spits on the ground, then does turn and leave, locking the cell door behind him. His booted feet crack against the stone floor, the sound receding until he rejoins his colleague at the far door and it closes behind them.

---------------------------------------
Additional Details on your Surroundings
---------------------------------------

To any prisoner who takes the time to study their current environs, the following is fairly obvious. There are five large cells on this level of the prison. Yours is the only one occupied. There are no windows.

Outside your cell and to the right is a heavy iron door set into a stone wall. Based on its construction with portals for trays of food and water to be passed through, it seems like it could be another type of cell. Every once in a while, you hear the rattling of chains and a low rumble, almost like that of an enormous beast snoring.

When the guards come in to check on you, the enter and leave through a door at the opposite end of the cell block and to the right. There seem to be at least two guards on watch. One who checks the cells while a second stays near the door with a horn ready in his hand.

The locks are of simple construction (just a DC 20) and while they and their chains may be old they are strong enough to easily resist Price's struggles.


Male NE Human (Talingardian) Investigator 3 | HP: 28/28 | AC: 16 (12 Tch, 14 Fl) | CMB: +6, CMD: 18 | F: +5, R: +5, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +7, SM: +6 | Speed 30ft | Inspiration: 3/3 | Extracts: 1st 4/4 | Active conditions: None.

A man with all the physical bearings of an aristocrat quietly sits in between a hulk of a man who spends his time brooding and plotting on one side and a devil-kissed woman on the other. He has carefully observed the other prisoners and has taken his findings as yet more proof - though scientifically inoperative - for his theory. In this cell block resides so much power and talent. If only he could talk to them and ask how their progress to reach their full potential had been stiffled by society. Mitra be damned! All that is left for him to do is to observe the prison itself.

Resistance seems futile. This place has been build to absorb any and all mortal endeavours to facilitate an escape. What flaws might have been in the initial version of this fortress turned prison must have been hammered out over the many years of its existence. Hm, quite the predicament this is. Best to play coy and hope the guards feel the need to overly focus on the guest next door. If only my fellow prisonees would learn to shut up and convey a sense of defeat, perhaps these two guards would stop their zealous attempts at correcting our apparent wicked thoughts and ways, and look next door's instead.


Female devil-spawn tiefling cleric of Asmodeus 3 || hp 25/25 || AC 17, touch 11, flatfooted 16 || Perception +9, Sense Motive +16 || Fort +4, Ref +2, Will +8 || CMB +6, CMD 14 || Init +1 || Hero Points 3 || Picture

The devil woman chained up in the corner of the cell is quiet, apart from an occasional groan. A strange-looking tail hangs between her legs, limp. Her mouth is dry and her body feels hot and feverish. The prison guards had to stoke the branding iron real hot for it to pierce her natural resistances. She tries to lick her chapped lips, but her tongue feels like sandpaper.

Affyria was able to keep it together during her capture and trial, shrugging things off with a sarcastic sneer. Even the cruel mind games and creepy caresses of her captors and guards whilst being interred at Branderscar didn't faze her much. But now that she was here, chained up, with seemingly no hope left, she felt her resolve starting to break.

When she looks up, her large horns scrape against the rough stone walls.

She laughs darkly, revealing a mouth filled with sharp, narrow teeth. "Save your breath, Price, they're not swayed by words, these guards. It seems that if we want to survive this place, we will have to rely on our own wits."

Glancing at the men around the room, she remarks with a sarcastic tone, "Luckily we seem to have a lot of strong men here, surely one of you can break these shackles."


Male NE Human (Talingardian) Investigator 3 | HP: 28/28 | AC: 16 (12 Tch, 14 Fl) | CMB: +6, CMD: 18 | F: +5, R: +5, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +7, SM: +6 | Speed 30ft | Inspiration: 3/3 | Extracts: 1st 4/4 | Active conditions: None.

A calm voice blithely replied to Affyria's biting sarcasm. "It would take brains, not accrued muscle mass, to break the chains that hold us. Talingardian society has been tightly wrapped up in the bindings of Mitra and we, all of us here, my dear, can break these shackles that hold us only to find we're still trapped and bound within an unfair system that has been constructed in such a way as to limit our powers and talents for reasons altogether wicked. And yes, the sarcasm was duly noted."

Oh, that felt good. If only he had a print of his life's work with him, how he could enlighten these poor suffering souls!

Perhaps the conditions of his situation were starting to get to Asturu.


HP 21 | AC/T/FF 14/12/12 | CMD 17 | F+3 / R+3 / W+8 | Init +6; PER +10 | Image

In this dank, dark, and hellish place... Price smiles. She shakes her wrist to ward off the last vestiges of the stinging blow and chuckles at Affyria's comments.

Her plaintive sniveling, saved for guards, is replaced by a warm and inviting contralto voice. "Now, Mistress Stex, we both know the old adage: Practice makes perfect. I don't want my skills to get rusty... And I did learn one thing: that guard hits like a dandy." She looks to the chained men in the cell and does her best to deliver an awkward, manacled, curtsy. "Gentlemen, it's a pleasure to meet you." Oddly, the dark haired woman seems utterly sincere.


HP 18/18; AC 12/12/10; Saves +2/+3/+2; Init +4; Per +2
Uses:
1/1 Pyrotechnics, 3/6 Arcane Reservoir, 3 Hero Points
Male Emberkin Aasimar Exploiter Wizard 3;Current Guise, Base Appearance, Journal

The man stays silent still, maybe cracking a faint grin (again, the light in here makes it quite hard to tell anything for sure) at the antics of the others, but remains quietly breathing, barely moving.

Fools. Still, at least here I am not the only one thinking of the cruelties of Mitra. Still, if they would just let me listen for a few seconds, I could figure out what on Golarion is next door to us.

Eventually, he opens his eyes. While he gives no indication of knowing anyone else in the room, his eyes seem to linger for a moment longer on Price.
Hmmm... she's here? Interesting. I wonder how Malisak is doing. Still, not much to do beyond wait for the opportune moment.

Next, his keen eyes scan the room, analyzing every crack and detail, looking for some sort of flaw, unusual feature, or similar potential asset.

Can I take 20 on a listen perception check? Score of 19 in total.
Also, wouldn't the locks be DC 30 in practice, due to none of us even having improvised tools?
Knowledge (arcana, nature, or religion to ID creature: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (3) + 9 = 12+2 if Planes.
Knowledge (engineering) to analyze the room: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (18) + 9 = 27


Maps for WotW | Maps for CotCT
Daidalos Icarum wrote:
Also, wouldn't the locks be DC 30 in practice, due to none of us even having improvised tools?

Yup. It's a simple lock, but all relevant modifiers apply to picking it.

Daidalos tries to identify the source of the sound and rattling chains but the chattering of his cellmates and lack of any visual observation of the creature foils his efforts. But he is certain it is organic in nature, not mechanical.

The cell block is sturdily built. It's hard to estimate how thick the stone walls are, but based on the size of the stones and thickness of the mortar, you're guessing about five feet. The wall to which Price and Morthos have been chained seems to be an addition to the castle's original construction and it seems to be of some reinforced design, even stronger than the exterior walls.

The bars of the cells are crafted of strong steel. While not up to the standards of a dwarven metalsmith, they should still prove more than sufficient to contain a bunch of humans and tieflings. The locks remain the weak point, also of a simple construction. (Cell doors are DC 20 to open, again subject to relevant modifiers.)


Female devil-spawn tiefling cleric of Asmodeus 3 || hp 25/25 || AC 17, touch 11, flatfooted 16 || Perception +9, Sense Motive +16 || Fort +4, Ref +2, Will +8 || CMB +6, CMD 14 || Init +1 || Hero Points 3 || Picture

Affyria glances at the man, a single eyebrow raised. "It might surprise you, but I find myself agreeing with your viewpoints. The proverbial shackles that this religious nation has placed on us are far worse. These," She says as she rattles the chains around her wrists, "are fleeting and temporary."

She closes her eyes, swallows, and shifts her body, her back aching from the uncomfortable position. Fleeting or not, this is quite the predicament we're in. I trust in thee, Asmodeus. Your time is nigh.


Male LE Tiefling (Demon-Spawn) Anti-Paladin (Tyrant) 3 | HP: 20/28 | AC: 20 (11 Tch, 19 Fl) | CMB: +7, CMD: 18 | F: +9, R: +6, W: +5 | Init: +1 | Perc: +3, SM: +2 | Speed 20ft | Smite Good: 1/1 | Spells: 1st 0/0 | Active conditions: None. | Image

The shackles of a man begin to rattle on the wall as he seems to come into consciousness. His prison rags hang loosely off of him, but you can see he is in top physical form. The man does his best to stretch his muscles, but the chains don't give at all. With a grin he says, "I never knew the dead talked so much"

Timo peers around the room, sizing up the group he's held with. "Such an interesting lot I'm cast with. My family would say I'm right where I belong. We'll see who has the last laugh"

A rumble from a large Iron door off to his right draws Timo's attention. "Interesting... They actually have something worse than us here"


Male Human Antipaladin (Knight of the Sepulcher, Tyrant) 1
Stats:
AC 9; Fort: +4, Ref: -1; Will: +5; Int: -1; Perc: +2; Hp's 13/13
Inëlûkii wrote:
"M-m-morthos? 'Sthat you?" the muffled voice calls out softly across the cell.. "Thought you were dead already... are we the only two left?"

Morthos raises his head back up as he hears his name, somewhat surprised. Looking to his left, he tries to stretch out to look around Price to see who it is. Narrowing his eyes so as to focus upon the masked man, "Who are you that you know me by name? I cannot see your face nor is your voice recognizable behind that mask."

He then looks around to the woman next to him and then to the others before speaking, keeping his voice low. "These chains are the least of our worries. We break the chains, the fool with the horn alerts the rest of his fools and we still have the bars to deal with. No, we wait until they err - and they will err - and then we shall strike."


18/28 hp, AC 12 T 12, FF 10 bat: 16, 16t, 14f; F 7, R 6, W 4*, bab 2, melee 2, ranged 4; cmb 2 cmd 14; init +2; sonic blast rta 2d4+3, hero 3 | bloodmarked (werebat-kin) skinwalker vibrokineticist / 3 | image
skills:
acro 8, diplo 6, fly 8*, intim 5, know engrg 3, know local 8, ling 3, perc 7*, perform: sing 7, stealth 9, umd 7 | *+2 at night

"Me?... it's Ineluki... Luke... I was arrested when you were... I was part of the distraction team so you could get close to ... well, you know." He sighs. repeats his name a few more times, because he's having trouble articulating through the mask and wants to make sure Morthos understands him... "Luke... Luke... Ineluki... remember me?"


Maps for WotW | Maps for CotCT

*snick* *BANG*

The door to the guardroom slams open and a half dozen, heavily armed guards enter the room, flanking... him. Sergeant Blackerly.

The portly, black-haired sergeant who administered your brands and did it with a laugh. And if the flames of the brand didn't work, well, he had acid ready for that.

"That's enough chatter," he barks out. "The rules are the rules, after all." He practically sneers as he walks up to the cell. He gestures at one of the guards -- one of your keepers -- and the man snaps to unlocking the cell door. "Right. Now then..."

He takes a few steps into the cell while a pair of guards follow him. He pauses, perhaps his eyes adjusting to the dim lighting here provided by a pair of oil lamps suspended from the ceiling. He looks into each of your faces, as if trying to identify one of you but having trouble who is who.

DC 25 Sense Motive:
It's not the lighting. Blackerly is somewhat dazed. It might be that he's trying to remember your faces, but no... He's under some sort of enchantment.

"You there! That's the scum! Get 'im unshackled." he barks again, pointing at Morthos, and the two guards who followed move over to Morthos and detach his manacles from the wall. While they do so, Blackerly continues with his threats. "Now if any of the rest of 'em makes trouble, they'll earn a thrashing!

As Morthos is brought to his feet, Blackerly gestures for the man to be brought forward -- Blackerly doesn't go near the suspended prisoners -- then leans in to Morthos's face. Ugh! The sergeant's breath is foul. In stark contrast to his initial bravado, his voice suddenly drops to a cool sotto voce. "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."

He leers in Morthos's face, then the paladin feels something cool and sharp at his groin: the point of a dagger. "Don't do anything stupid. You may have a date with the Undying Flame in three days time, but I can make them a very, very miserable three days. Now then... step lively. We wouldn't want to keep her waiting."

He steps to the side and one of the guards shoves Morthos in the direction of the cell door.

Slides updated


Male NE Human (Talingardian) Investigator 3 | HP: 28/28 | AC: 16 (12 Tch, 14 Fl) | CMB: +6, CMD: 18 | F: +5, R: +5, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +7, SM: +6 | Speed 30ft | Inspiration: 3/3 | Extracts: 1st 4/4 | Active conditions: None.

Asturu furrows his brow after the Sergeant steps away from him. Wait,
what? That look in his eyes! Something is afoot.
He then wisely keeps his mouth shut as the soldiers go about doing their thing.

Sense Motive:
Sense Motive with a point of Inspiration: 1d20 + 1d6 + 5 ⇒ (16) + (5) + 5 = 26


Male Human Antipaladin (Knight of the Sepulcher, Tyrant) 1
Stats:
AC 9; Fort: +4, Ref: -1; Will: +5; Int: -1; Perc: +2; Hp's 13/13
Inëlûkii wrote:
"Me?... it's Ineluki... Luke... I was arrested when you were... I was part of the distraction team so you could get close to ... well, you know." He sighs. repeats his name a few more times, because he's having trouble articulating through the mask and wants to make sure Morthos understands him... "Luke... Luke... Ineluki... remember me?"

Concentrating a moment, the name finally dawns on him. Just as he's about to respond, he's interrupted by the fat man that tortured them all.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18

Morthos rubs his wrists as he's set free, glaring at the Sergeant as he threatens him but remaining silent as his thoughts turn to the lady that Blackerly had mentioned. A fine lady? That is most interesting.

Morthos willingly and silently obeys as he moves along in the direction he's being shoved.


HP 21 | AC/T/FF 14/12/12 | CMD 17 | F+3 / R+3 / W+8 | Init +6; PER +10 | Image

SM: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (15) + 8 = 23


Maps for WotW | Maps for CotCT

The cell door slams shut behind Morthos, Blackerly and the rest of the guards, one of them pausing to lock it before they all retire to the guardroom to the south. The cell block returns to relative silence and dim, flickering light.

@Morthos:
You are walked into the guardroom where you see stairs leading down and a massive fireplace on the far wall. You are ushered through a door to your left and into the interrogation room. It is plain and featureless save for a single stout, wooden table and four chairs. Blackerly shoves you into one of them and you nearly topple to the side due to your still manacled hands unable to grab and balance you.

That is when the other occupant of the room, a stunning beautiful woman in an elegant black dress and soft silken veil speaks. "Oh, dearest," proclaims the unfamiliar woman, dressed as if she's heading to a funeral. "I'm so relieved you're alive."

She turns to the sergeant, her platinum hair framing her face in shimmering, flawless perfection. "Sergeant, could we please have a moment alone? For pity's sake?"

Blackerly's face goes slack for a moment and then he quickly agrees, "Of course, my lady. For you, 'tis no problem." He bows slightly, then withdraws from the room, closing the door behind him.


Morthos Only, DC 15 Sense Motive:
Based on his response to the woman, it's plain she has some sort of power over the corpulent sergeant.

@ Morthos:
As soon as the door is closed, the woman's demeanor instantly changes. She drops all pretense of grief or concern... though not her sense of playfulness. She stands, a mischievous smile coming to her lips as she crosses the small room with a languid grace.

"Have you forgotten me, dearest? She smirks, lowering her hips onto the table in front of you, crossing her legs and brushing one up against yours as she looks down at you with piercing green eyes. "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. Now, 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.

"Oh..." She explains in faux surprise at remembering something. "And he wanted me to give you this." She removes her veil, wipes away a few fake tears, then slips it into the palm of your hand.

Sorry for the wall of text, Morthos. I don't usually write quite that long and try to give folks an opportunity to interject, but a lot of stage setting is happening up front here. For the sake of efficiency, if you have more than a couple questions for her, just list them in the order you'd like to ask.

All: Slides updated with new map information and artwork for Tiadora and Blackerly.


Male LE Tiefling (Demon-Spawn) Anti-Paladin (Tyrant) 3 | HP: 20/28 | AC: 20 (11 Tch, 19 Fl) | CMB: +7, CMD: 18 | F: +9, R: +6, W: +5 | Init: +1 | Perc: +3, SM: +2 | Speed 20ft | Smite Good: 1/1 | Spells: 1st 0/0 | Active conditions: None. | Image

Timo sneers as the portly sergeant makes his way into the room as the pain of his branding flashes through his mind. That bulbous buffoon and the rest of these Mitrans amuse me. They pretend to be all high and righteous, yet they take pleasure in inflicting pain on others. Peel away religious veneer and they would be right next to us in these chains. If I get the chance, maybe I'll show that fat fool what pain is.


Male Human Antipaladin (Knight of the Sepulcher, Tyrant) 1
Stats:
AC 9; Fort: +4, Ref: -1; Will: +5; Int: -1; Perc: +2; Hp's 13/13

GM:

Nahhhh, the text is no biggie at all. And I'll keep the question simple. Because it fits him to be honest. :)

Morthos continues in silence, taking the exchange between the woman and Blackerly with interest.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19

And he becomes even more interested when Blackerly seems to succumb so easily to such a request.

Snowheart wrote:

As soon as the door is closed, the woman's demeanor instantly changes. She drops all pretense of grief or concern... though not her sense of playfulness. She stands, a mischievous smile coming to her lips as she crosses the small room with a languid grace.

"Have you forgotten me, dearest? She smirks, lowering her hips onto the table in front of you, crossing her legs and brushing one up against yours as she looks down at you with piercing green eyes. "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. Now, 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.

"Oh..." She explains in faux surprise at remembering something. "And he wanted me to give you this." She removes her veil, wipes away a few fake tears, then slips it into the palm of your hand.

As a devilish grin forms, he reluctantly accepts the veil, looking it over a moment before speaking. "Tiadora, is it? Very well. While I have many questions as to who this 'mutual friend' is you speak of, lovely Tiadora, presently it is of no matter. If this 'friend' is so inclined to meet with us then that implies we are to be free."

"So, dear Tiadora, my only question I have for you is this: How are we to escape and what does this have to do with it?" he asks, holding up the veil.


Maps for WotW | Maps for CotCT

@ Morthos:
Her lips tighten into the slightest of pouts and in a sing-song voice she says, "Is a token of my affection not enough?" She laughs, slides her hips off the table, moves behind Morthos's chair while one hand rests on his shoulder, then reaches around with the other. She pulls the veil open as she whispers into his ear, a sultry mezzo-soprano. "Each of these shapes is a patch, dearest. Peel it off, and what is embroidered shall be made real."

She makes a sound like half a laugh that bubbles in her throat, and her nose brushes lightly across his ear as she stands back up behind him. Her message delivered, 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 gives Morthos a kiss on the cheek -- it 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 the PCs one last time and she briefly gives them a wicked smile.

“Three days,” telepathically echoes in Morthos's mind. “Don’t disappoint me, dearest." The visitation concluded, the antipaladin is taken back to his cell by a cadre of guards and shackled once more.

After about ten minutes, Morthos is marched back into the cell block and secured once more to the manacles suspended above his head. The guards withdraw but not before ensuring the cell door is locked, then retire to the southern room.

An image of the veil is available on Slide 2. Let me know if the resolution isn't high enough and I'll put a better version up on a dedicated slide.


Male Human Antipaladin (Knight of the Sepulcher, Tyrant) 1
Stats:
AC 9; Fort: +4, Ref: -1; Will: +5; Int: -1; Perc: +2; Hp's 13/13

GM:
Morthos cannot help but grin wickedly at the woman's fantastic level of subterfuge matched only by her wiles. His attention turning to the guard as he enters and prepares to return him to his cell, he hears her voice within his mind and glances back at her with a curious look upon his face as he's hauled away. Not sure if he can duplicate such an ability, he thinks to himself regardless, Do not worry, dear Tiadora, I shall not.

Once the guard leaves, Morthos looks to the others and speaks just above a whisper. "I have acquired and item which will be our means of escape. This veil I possess in my very hand has multiple items from within. All we must do is remove the image from the veil and it becomes just that." Looking over at Price, "Do you... Price was it? possess the ability to unlock these manacles with proper tools? I believe there are such tools from within the veil. If so, I will attempt to hand you the veil. If not, we will find another way," he states with complete confidence.


Male LE Tiefling (Demon-Spawn) Anti-Paladin (Tyrant) 3 | HP: 20/28 | AC: 20 (11 Tch, 19 Fl) | CMB: +7, CMD: 18 | F: +9, R: +6, W: +5 | Init: +1 | Perc: +3, SM: +2 | Speed 20ft | Smite Good: 1/1 | Spells: 1st 0/0 | Active conditions: None. | Image

Timo perks up at the possibility of freedom. He makes sure no guards are paying attention and turns to the other antipaladin and whispers, "It seems you have some powerful friends, Morthos is it? What benefactor do we thank for this opportunity?


HP 18/18; AC 12/12/10; Saves +2/+3/+2; Init +4; Per +2
Uses:
1/1 Pyrotechnics, 3/6 Arcane Reservoir, 3 Hero Points
Male Emberkin Aasimar Exploiter Wizard 3;Current Guise, Base Appearance, Journal

The blond man perks up at Morthos' statement, but remains silent as to not tip off the guards.
Fascinating. Clearly, this 'fine lady' has an interest in us. I wonder what for. One step at a time, though. First, out of the shackles.


Female devil-spawn tiefling cleric of Asmodeus 3 || hp 25/25 || AC 17, touch 11, flatfooted 16 || Perception +9, Sense Motive +16 || Fort +4, Ref +2, Will +8 || CMB +6, CMD 14 || Init +1 || Hero Points 3 || Picture

When Morthos announces he has secured a means of release, she lifts her head once more and speaks up, "You will have to enlighten us as to what happened out here, but for now, we should focus on securing a release from this place. An opportunity has presented itself, and we should seize it with both hands."

You work fast, fallen prince. Impressive indeed.

-Posted with Wayfinder


18/28 hp, AC 12 T 12, FF 10 bat: 16, 16t, 14f; F 7, R 6, W 4*, bab 2, melee 2, ranged 4; cmb 2 cmd 14; init +2; sonic blast rta 2d4+3, hero 3 | bloodmarked (werebat-kin) skinwalker vibrokineticist / 3 | image
skills:
acro 8, diplo 6, fly 8*, intim 5, know engrg 3, know local 8, ling 3, perc 7*, perform: sing 7, stealth 9, umd 7 | *+2 at night

[ooc]sorry for my absence... running a f-t-f gameday here locally today.

"Release? yes, release me, all of us... we can overcome the guards and win our escape if we can just get free."


HP 21 | AC/T/FF 14/12/12 | CMD 17 | F+3 / R+3 / W+8 | Init +6; PER +10 | Image

SnowHeart, do we have any idea what time it is? Any clues based on what the guards are doing, eating, or saying to one another? Also, are any of our rags made of wool?

Price is less enthusiastic, responding quietly. "I have some skill with locks, yes." (With tools, my DD roll is +7 or +9 for MW Tools. Asturu's roll may be a bit better.) "I can't see if the sun is up but - given your visitor's timing - I suspect it is daytime or evening, at best. Unshackling ourselves right now would be a mistake. To escape, we'll want to strike late at night - catch these bastards tired, unaware, or asleep. And be long gone by dawn."


Maps for WotW | Maps for CotCT

You arrived and were processed in the morning and it's been several hours since then. A reasonable guess would be that it is mid-day.


Male NE Human (Talingardian) Investigator 3 | HP: 28/28 | AC: 16 (12 Tch, 14 Fl) | CMB: +6, CMD: 18 | F: +5, R: +5, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +7, SM: +6 | Speed 30ft | Inspiration: 3/3 | Extracts: 1st 4/4 | Active conditions: None.

Calm and cool, with perhaps a splash of temporal insanity, Asturu addresses the comely brunette and the tall man known as Morthos. "When the time is right, crumple the veil and throw it to Price. That is your name, correct? If she can't deal with the lock, I might be able to, but petty burglary truly isn't my forte. No, I am not judging."

After all, such distractions of the mind were an unwelcome noise at this point in time.


HP 21 | AC/T/FF 14/12/12 | CMD 17 | F+3 / R+3 / W+8 | Init +6; PER +10 | Image

Price raises an amused eyebrow at that, "As a Forsaken criminal found guilty of several high crimes and expecting to be either drawn and quartered or crisped on a pyre... thank you for not judging my least questionable skills." She winks at the man, "I am just meeting the finest people today."


Male NE Human (Talingardian) Investigator 3 | HP: 28/28 | AC: 16 (12 Tch, 14 Fl) | CMB: +6, CMD: 18 | F: +5, R: +5, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +7, SM: +6 | Speed 30ft | Inspiration: 3/3 | Extracts: 1st 4/4 | Active conditions: None.

Asturu's lips part to let through a verbal protest of sorts, but he snaps his mouth shut. Best not correct her on the fact that I am being prosecuted for publishing scientific findings, or as some would call it, the truth.

The man returns the wink with a smile and a nod of appreciation.


Female devil-spawn tiefling cleric of Asmodeus 3 || hp 25/25 || AC 17, touch 11, flatfooted 16 || Perception +9, Sense Motive +16 || Fort +4, Ref +2, Will +8 || CMB +6, CMD 14 || Init +1 || Hero Points 3 || Picture

Affyria clears her throat. "Waiting for the cover of darkness would be wise. When the rest of the world sleeps, we'll spring into action. It seems we are all forsaken here. Forsaken by a nation and a religion that I was never a part of. Price and me were apprehended after a raid on the High Cathedral and a botched murder attempt of its High Priest."

The devil-girl chuckles to herself. "Bastard was a lot quicker than I gave him credit for. So, what life decisions have led the rest of you here?"


18/28 hp, AC 12 T 12, FF 10 bat: 16, 16t, 14f; F 7, R 6, W 4*, bab 2, melee 2, ranged 4; cmb 2 cmd 14; init +2; sonic blast rta 2d4+3, hero 3 | bloodmarked (werebat-kin) skinwalker vibrokineticist / 3 | image
skills:
acro 8, diplo 6, fly 8*, intim 5, know engrg 3, know local 8, ling 3, perc 7*, perform: sing 7, stealth 9, umd 7 | *+2 at night

"Killing the king seemed like a good idea at the time." says the muffled voice behind the mask. "Still sounds like a good idea... but getting caught wasn't part of the plan. Tell them, Morthos."


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Male NE Human (Talingardian) Investigator 3 | HP: 28/28 | AC: 16 (12 Tch, 14 Fl) | CMB: +6, CMD: 18 | F: +5, R: +5, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +7, SM: +6 | Speed 30ft | Inspiration: 3/3 | Extracts: 1st 4/4 | Active conditions: None.

"I embraced science and published a work that could change the world, but Mitra would have none of it. Her church painted me a heretic, because I stood by my scientific foundings. Yes, the numbers and the evidence, it all checks out! I'm right. Right! And Mitra and her followers are wrong."

The man exhales what appears to be a long sigh to calm himself down. "Do accept my apologies. T'is a sore subject is all."


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HP 21 | AC/T/FF 14/12/12 | CMD 17 | F+3 / R+3 / W+8 | Init +6; PER +10 | Image

Price makes a dismissive gesture - halted abruptly by the manacles binding her wrists. She glares at the bindings as if they were an annoying fly. She says breezily, "The Court forgave me for all that, Mistress Strex. In their wisdom, they agreed that the herd of Mitran priests needs culling. No, I was convicted for a more heinous crime. It had been a busy day and I hadn't planned appropriately. So, much to my embarrassment, nature called and I was not anywhere near an outhouse. Well, what is a pragmatic lady to do? I discreetly dropped my panties and relieved myself in a noisy fountain. I was mortified to discover it was the coronation fountain dedicated to King Markadian IV. Honestly, it could have happened to anyone. So there you have it - a death sentence for public urination." To her credit, Price manages to stay straight-faced.


Male LE Tiefling (Demon-Spawn) Anti-Paladin (Tyrant) 3 | HP: 20/28 | AC: 20 (11 Tch, 19 Fl) | CMB: +7, CMD: 18 | F: +9, R: +6, W: +5 | Init: +1 | Perc: +3, SM: +2 | Speed 20ft | Smite Good: 1/1 | Spells: 1st 0/0 | Active conditions: None. | Image

Timo lets out a soft whistle under his breath. "Attempted regicide and the attempted murder of the high priest. Most impressive." Timo then holds back his laughter as best he can as Price relates her tale. When he regains his composure, he responds with a grin, "Well you know how much those Mitrans like their clean fountains."

"Myself, I am here for murder, blasphemy, and desecration. Take your pick. The Mitrans hid my birthright from me and were training me to be a Paladin. When I discovered the secret of birth, I swore off their pathetic god and swore my allegiance to Asmodeus. I had planned to accept their training and then use it against them. Unfortunately, one of my fellow trainees foolishly barged into my room while I was performing my morning supplication to Asmodeus, so of course he had to die. Unfortunately I was caught with the body in front of my shrine."


Male Human Antipaladin (Knight of the Sepulcher, Tyrant) 1
Stats:
AC 9; Fort: +4, Ref: -1; Will: +5; Int: -1; Perc: +2; Hp's 13/13
Timo Zoci wrote:
Timo perks up at the possibility of freedom. He makes sure no guards are paying attention and turns to the other antipaladin and whispers, "It seems you have some powerful friends, Morthos is it? What benefactor do we thank for this opportunity?

Looking to Timo, "I did not ask nor do I care due to the simple fact that freedom was offered. All that was asked was... once we are free, we shall all meet said benefactor in three days time."

He then looks to Price, "And nightfall is the perfect opportunity for our escape," he nods in agreement.

Turning his attention to Inëlûkii, "I do remember you, Inëlûkii. You played your part perfect. And he is correct," he starts, looking around to the others. "Replacing the pathetic King with myself was the only way to bring complete order to Talingarde instead of this utter chaos which exists in every corner of the land. And again as Inëlûkii said, capture was not part of the plan. But we were betrayed by fools who cannot see the truth behind the lies of the pathetic King. But no matter, the time will come and we shall meet again those who betrayed us and they shall pay the penalty for their crimes."


Maps for WotW | Maps for CotCT

Whenever your conversation is injected with laughter or gets above the volume of a whisper, one of the guards comes in, club at the ready, while his comrade stands watch by the door with a horn. "Quiet down, the lot o' ya! There'll be no jibber-jabbering! You best be usin' this time to make yourselves right with Mitra and pray for the Beneficient Sun's forgiveness!"

1d7 ⇒ 2
non lethal damage: 1d3 ⇒ 3

For good measure, he gives Price -- seemingly chosen at random -- a crack in the jaw with the club. "Now quiet down! Dinner 'll be served soon. Anyone caught blabbering 'll go hungry!"

Nonlethal heals at 1 pt/hr


HP 21 | AC/T/FF 14/12/12 | CMD 17 | F+3 / R+3 / W+8 | Init +6; PER +10 | Image

Does my DR2/Magic apply against that? I'm just curious, not concerned.

Price takes the hit with a grunt. After the guard leaves, she looks at Timo, "Never a fountain around when you need one."


Maps for WotW | Maps for CotCT

Yup! So just 1pt.

The guard seems perturbed that the crack of his club seemed to have little impact. He mutters something to himself, then rapidly leaves the cell.

Sense Motive DC 15:
Not only is the guard unnerved by this, he's genuinely scared of the lot of you.


HP 21 | AC/T/FF 14/12/12 | CMD 17 | F+3 / R+3 / W+8 | Init +6; PER +10 | Image

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10

Status:
HP: 8/8 | AC:12
NL: 7/8
1st Spells (2):
Effects: None


18/28 hp, AC 12 T 12, FF 10 bat: 16, 16t, 14f; F 7, R 6, W 4*, bab 2, melee 2, ranged 4; cmb 2 cmd 14; init +2; sonic blast rta 2d4+3, hero 3 | bloodmarked (werebat-kin) skinwalker vibrokineticist / 3 | image
skills:
acro 8, diplo 6, fly 8*, intim 5, know engrg 3, know local 8, ling 3, perc 7*, perform: sing 7, stealth 9, umd 7 | *+2 at night

sm dc 15: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (19) + 1 = 20

Ineluki chuckles, but it comes off as muffled choking sounds... then he mutters... "He's scared of us... and rightly so... he's likely to die by our hands tonight, though he can't know that yet."


Male Human Antipaladin (Knight of the Sepulcher, Tyrant) 1
Stats:
AC 9; Fort: +4, Ref: -1; Will: +5; Int: -1; Perc: +2; Hp's 13/13

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21

A malicious grin forms upon the visage of the antipaladin as he watches the guard return to his quarters. "You are correct, Inëlûkii. He fears us. For a fool he is wise. Unfortunately that will not be enough to save his pathetic life."

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