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 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?
I keep my head low and survey the cell , reflecting on my current condition and considering every possible revenge with each pulse of pain my new brand gives me. I had to get out of here!
Those around me are no better off. I wonder what crimes they have committed? There is something strange about the man next to me. Perhaps it is the tail he tries to hide. The gnome is just as curious a thing. What crime could that poor creature have committed to warrant death?
Then I turn my head. "Myra? Is that you?" I whisper, trying to keep my voice low so the guards do not hear . "It is! Mitra be damned, I did not think to see you here."
She was flying over the city, free, enjoying the cool breeze on her face. Below a city burned, and with a laugh she loosed a blast of mystic energy, blasting through the roof of another Mitran temple. The power pulsing through her hand was intense, burning.... with a groan, Myra awakens back to reality. Chained with a fresh brand still burning on her hand. Lost to her own thoughts, she wasn't even aware of the others till a familiar voice roused her back to the present.
"Stavros, you handsome bastard, never thought to see you again. Looks like neither one of us fared too well since you left, always thought we made a good team. What well deserved act got you locked up here?"
I turn my face so Myra can see the long line of the platinum scar running across the left side of my face. I give her my wickedest smile. "A minor dispute over whether or not the king should live or die. I overestimated my feelings on the matter, but I see clearly what I must do now. Live or die, I will see it done."
I quietly check the quality of the locks and chains, scouring the cell for some weakness, anything I could use in the future to escape or to distract.
"You tried to kill the king, unbelievable. I'll give you points for guts, but next time I suggest you leave the planning to someone else."
twisting in her chains Myra lowers her gaze on the others.
No surprise seeing a tiefling in here, bet his only crime was being born. A gnome, bet there is a story there, she doesn't look like the hardened criminal type.
Poki sits with her chin resting in her hands glumly. "I'm bored. And now the big ones are talking, and its loud and distracts me from my brooding. Although," she sits up abruptly, "Maybe one of them has some bugs? They took all mine."
Poki scans her cellmates with greedy eyes. "Not the shiny one, of course, but maybe one of the girls? Could they spare a tick or a scorpion or maybe a spider? Poki is lonely without someone sensible to talk to."
"Or maybe the tailed one... Poki trails off, then sniffs the air. "Hey, that's you! The tailed hunter! You're here. If you're not there, who will kill the poachers and hide their bodies? Who's keeping the woods safe while I'm locked up in this stupid clean place?"
nope, defiantly not a hardened criminal, just an insane one
at the mention of a scorpion, Myra waits till the guard is facing away from the cell. It appears as if she is speaking to something on her shoulder, perhaps the lovely greeensting scorpion tattoo.
In a low voice. "Kermit, you can not stay much longer, soon I will be put to fire, you must flee this place before then. Stay hidden and await an opportunity."
Looking down at Poki "Sorry no bugs here, fear not though, your boredom will be lifted tomorrow when we all hang and burn"
The girl's head hangs limply, a mass of lank, black hair obscuring her face and covering most of her slender torso. Her skin, pale, contrasts with the dark-red of the blood that seeps from scratches covering her arms. She tries to pull her legs up to her chest but the chains that bind you all denies her even that small comfort.
At the sound of the voices, she tenses, pressing herself back against the hard, cold wall; a few heartbeats pass and she starts to shake visibly.
"Hang and burn? What can we hang and burn tomorrow? A picture? A coat? Or, or, or a kitten!"
Poki's mood brightens visibly and she smiles, displaying a mouth full of needle-sharp teeth.
"That does sound like fun. You understand fun. And you like scorpions -- you paint a picture of one on your arm. You are not a stupid big person. Poki shouldn't have said that. Poki sorry."
Poki looks suitably penitent for an entire second, then she smiles again.
"Poki is me. You can talk to Poki now. You aren't stupid, so Poki will listen."
You're an interesting one," I say to Poki. "Perhaps later, we can find the prize I've hidden in one of the guards. I can't tell you which one, it's a surprise. And of course, we have to whisper and be quiet. We can't let the guards know we know there is a prize. And of course, we have to get out these chains and this cell."
The great paintings of Mitra look a vibrant as ever in the light that flickers a pale oranges and reds and bright yellows. "So beautiful..." His voice whispers as they begin to blacken and curl. The paint ignites as the fire reaches them. "Perhaps you shouldn't have used a flammable paint." He can feel the grin spread across his face as he stares at the wall. It is like he's experiencing everything from somewhere inside himself, yet without control, just a bit distant. His vision turns to see the pews filled with the impaled corpses of the worshippers. Dead mitrans, every last one of them, each finally spared the lies of this corrupt land. Fire creeps up along the walls as he moves forward, his gaze locked on a single person in front of him, Bishop Buram Landrhew. The man backed away from him the fear evident in his eyes. Arash savored this. It was all that he wanted, his greatest desire in the world realized. The bishop stumbled into the great altar on the "stage" at the front. His hands wrapped around Buram's neck, pulsing and throbbing with life. The fire consuming the walls, the pews, the dead parishoners, everything framed the man's scared face, his bulging eyes and gasping mouth. "Such a beautiful scene. Consumed by the purifying fire as I take the life of the one that betrayed me. So beautiful!" He could feel the tears rolling down his cheeks, and the bishop uttered something. He pulled the man closer, just to tear the last words this betrayer, his "father" would speak, "Hey, that's you! The tailed hunter!" The world went black as confusion overtook him.
The chains jerk as shook as Arash lunged forward a bit, extending them in an effort to squeeze the last bit of life out of the bishop that was no longer there. A sudden realization came over him as he began to absorb his surroundings. He released a deep, throaty snarl, his tail lashing about in agitation. His arm ached fiercely and a quick turn of it showed the brand, scarred and burned into his fire-resistant flesh. A chuckle escaped his lips, "I wonder what they had to do to brand me like so." Another look around and he takes in the others chained to the wall with him. "Well, at least I'm not alone. That would've been terrible," he says with a level of sadness to his voice.
A glance at the gnome perks his interest. "You? You're that gnome that kept defying the Mitrans," he grins, "and helping to thin the poacher population. You were caught as well?"
As you take in your surroundings, you see nothing of value or flavor. In fact, you appear to be the only prisoners on this cell block. There is a guard a few cells down, quietly napping in his chair and a closed heavy wooden door at the end of the hallway.
You realize you aren't alone. There is someone or something in the stone-walled cell to the west. You can hear its heavy breathing.
As for your immediate accommodations, you see that you are in a rectangle, iron-barred cell. It is about 30' wide by 12' deep. Two of the walls are stone, two of stout, narrowly spaced iron bars.
The guard is awakened by your conversation. He lifts his head and yells down at you. "Oi! You lot keep it down. You've got nothing to say to one 'nother. Keep it shut ya' filthy..."
Before he can finish, the door at the end of the cell block opens. "Shanks, get yer ass in here," another guard says, stepping into the hall. "You've got no cause to be out there. Blackerly - Sergeant Blackerly - told us to stay in here. Now come on before you get us all in trouble."
Shanks glares at him and then turns to sneer at you. "It appears I won't be keeping you company. Keep your mouths shut. You got nothing to discuss." He stands and moves to the door.
"Well fellow criminals, it seems we have been afforded a bit more privacy, so whose got an escape plan rattling around in their heads? At this point there are no stupid ideas"
"Kermit, might as well come on out." with these words, the scorpion tattoo on Myra's shoulder begins to stir and a Scorpion pulls free from her skin, leaving it smooth and unblemished. "Stay close, if those guards come back, you'll need to disappear quick."
Following Myra's words, hollow laughter escapes from Gideon's mouth. Having hung from his chains limply while the guard was present, the disgraced knight abruptly straightens his posture, looking up from the bland, stone floor. "Escape?" he repeats, looking upon his fellow prisoners with colors of both amusement and disgust. He would probably spit on the floor, if he could spare the moisture. "There is your stupid idea right there. Your optimism is endearing, but you should know better. You all should."
"We are no friends of the Almighty. We will burn, and once we are dead, we will burn some more."
"I don't understand this obsession the big ones have with burning. Fire is fun, but it's not the only fun, or even the most fun," the gnome says. "Poison is better."
Then she marvels at the scorpion that wriggled out of the dark woman's arm, her eyes growing wide. "Do that again," she says. "Poki wants one too. Poki likes scorpion lady."
Poki looks thoughtful and then continues, answering her new friend's questions very earnestly.
"Poki can talk to bugs and even rats. Well, not talk exactly. Herd. Wrangle. Poki thought if she could find some, maybe she could set them on the big ones guarding us, or have them steal keys or something. Poki is vengeful forest spirit, so she also has lots of magic tricks she mostly can't use while chained."
"And yes, tailed hunter, Poki got careless after making the stupid church collapse and they caught her. And bathed her." Poki shudders.
"Now if the big ones would only hush for a moment," she said, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she had been doing most of the talking, "I might be able to figure out what the thing in the next cell is."
Blackerly. I wonder at that name . The past few days have been a blur. The accusatory stares. They'd looked at him like he was some sort of feral animal, an aberration they couldn't believe exists. How could one blessed with the looks of an angel have the heart of a devil. They all looked the same. The guards. Even the one that branded him. Probably not this Blackerly, but a sergeant of the guard may know who.
Perhaps I could remember the name if only I could see his face.
Nevertheless. They now had some measure of privacy. And they were not alone. Either they were considered the more dangerous, or whoever was in the next cell was. I considered it the latter. But I'd been wrong before.
"I could use a hair pin or something." I wonder how strong the claws on Myra's familiar are. She'd burn me alive if I hurt the creature. "These locks shouldn't be too hard to manage, but with my wrist bound as they are, I'll have a devil of a time of it."
I stretch against my bonds. Leaning as close to the entrance as I can. Whatever is over there must be wounded or big, or both. I try to hear what the guards are doing or saying. .
The leering face of the noble...the rough treatment by the guards..."Guilty"..."Life in the salt mines"...Life in the...LIFE...
Tears flow freely down the teen's cheeks, creating narrow tracks in the dirt on her face.
New voices...scorpion...Blackerly...criminals...escape...
It takes a while for the last word to filter through to the girl's conscious mind.
Escape.
Was she deluding herself? The judge had said it was impossible; that no-one had escaped from...wherever it is that we are. My mind must be playing tricks on me. Hadn't he?
Slowly, and keeping her head down still, she allows herself to tune into her surroundings. She breathes in deeply, stilling her shaking body. It takes several minutes for her to focus.
Four or five people. One woman, three males and another creature. They're talking, which is a good sign. They can't get to me, can they? They're chained up, too? Aren't they?
Raising her head, she shakes her hair from her face as best she can. With wide eyes, dark circles betraying a lack of sleep, she peers warily at her new surroundings.
"We shall die anyway, why not try to escape? There is nothing but revenge left to me, should I die, I care little how. I will have failed." Arash looks over to the aasimar. "Would another hand help if you obtain a tool?" His tail curls about to poke at the manacles.
Buram, you will die, and I will be your executioner.
"Scorpion lady likes Poki too, and if we survive this I will properly introduce you to my friend and familiar Kermit."
To Gideon "I am no friend of Mitra, but there is another, one capable of opposing her. She is not almighty, merely a thief, more concerned with her own worship than the rue laws of this land."
turning back to Stavros "What type of tool do you need, could we improvise a tool?"
of course we'll die here, but what else can we do, at least this passes the time. Asmodeus, you have servants in need, ready to strike back at your most hated foe. Send us aid, and we shall carry out your will
"Make no mistake," Gideon says in a gruff tone, shaking his head slowly, "I have no intention of dying without a fight."
The ex-paladin looks to his chafed wrists, still bound to the wall by shackles. He tugs on them ever so lightly, testing the tension of the chain. He was almost certain that he could break it, but he knew better than to do so too hastily. It would be a wasted effort under their current circumstances. He regards Stavros' idea with similar scrutiny.
"These bindings are the least of our worries. Look at where we are. Just stepping out of this cell alive will require ample opportunity."
As much as she tried to ignore the boring words of the big ones, Poki couldn't help but listen. As the meaning sunk in, she gasped in amazement.
"Wait a minute! You, you think we're going to die. You all do." She sniffed deeply, letting the scent of her companions linger in her nostrils. "You all stink of fear -- the quiet girl most of all. You think -- you think--"[b]
Poki could hold it in no longer. First It was a giggle, then a fit of chortles that changed into deep laughs that shook her whole body till only the chains were supporting her weight. Her skin flushed a deeper blue with the exertions, and she only seemed to control her laughter once she could no longer breathe.
[b]"You--you--you're afraid of them. That's the funniest thing Poki's heard this spring. The only reason we are chained is because we terrify them. They are no match for us. We are predators. They are silly sheep and bunnies who will scatter before us or feel our teeth. If Poki weren't chained she would already be free."
Poki panted for a few moments and her color returned to normal.
"It makes Poki happy to laugh at funny big people. So don't be afraid. Poki will take all of you with her."
Arash shakes his head. "Fear keeps you alive. It keeps you from making foolish mistakes... If you don't let it rule you." He shifts a bit, testing the fit of the manacle, trying to see if he could work his wrists free. "I have no intention of dying yet, at least not until I have my revenge. The bastard who betrayed me will die."
He grinned, "Besides, the trapped predator still has its fangs and claws. Lull the supposed hunter into a state of foolish superiority and he becomes your prey."
I shrug and roll my eyes. A strange group to be sure, I smiled. I almost feared what I would find in the other cell. At least Myra was here. She would keep a level head in all this, I hoped. Now I just had to contend with these locks.
"Not much movement here, but perhaps . . ." I begin to try to escape my bonds. "I can bypass the locks and slip these bonds." .
fang.....we are a dangerous group indeed, were we free and together, these people would have a great deal to fear from us. The combined hatred here is amazing, only Talingarde can be so blindly righteous as to create a group such as this.
Myra keeps her eyes focused on the cell door, while the scorpion scurries about her shoulder, then disappears down her back, before popping out at her feet. Once on the ground Kermit begins searching the immediate area for bugs, but never strays far from Myra's feet.
The young Sczarni takes a cursory look at her companions - for want of a better word - and then to the heavy shackles that hold her.
I wonder how many monsters these things have constrained before me? she wonders, and then decides that she doesn't want to know.
Taking her cue from the Aasimar, she narrows her hands as best she can and tries to pull them through the cold, iron hoops; the flesh of her wrists bloodying as she does so.
Can I Take 20 with this? Not that I think I can do it anyway. If not,
Neither of you are able to escape the manacles.
As you were attempting the effort, the door at the end of the hallway opens. Through it passes a group of six heavily armed guards led by a fat, well-dressed man that you all recognize. This was the bastard that laughed with pleasure as he placed the brand upon your forearm. This is Sergeant Tomas Blackerly.
He has none of that cheer now, though. Instead, he has a relatively calm, slightly dazed demeanor.
The group walks towards your cell. "Stay seated, filth," the one called Shanks says as he unlocks the door to your cell.
“You there!" Blackerly says, pointing at Libby. [b["That’s the one! Get her 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.”[/b]
You are expecting no one. All those "close" to you cut their ties as soon as you were convicted of your crime. Plus, there are no "fine" women in your life at all.
The guards warily move into the cell, brandishing their swords as they move to release Libby. She has the manacles removed from her arms and legs, is forcibly lifted to her feet and led out of the cell. Shanks closes and locks the cell door behind them.
She is roughly escorted from the cell and down the hall and through the door.
You pass through a large square room and are led into a smaller rectangular one. The guards leading you shove you into a chair. There waiting for 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 Blackerly. “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." You can see clearly that this woman has some sort of control over this guard.
As soon as the guards leave, the woman'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." She smiles. "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.”
Her message delivered, she is visibly impatient to be on her way.
As the guards enter the cell, Poki bares her teeth and emits the low growl of a cornered wolf. She makes no threatening moves, to the point of backing away slightly from the guard unshackling Libby to give him space.
When they leave the cell she slumps again into her chains. Then she softly tests a word on her tongue. "Blackerly."
Her wrists cut and bleeding, Libby stops the futile attempts to free herself. With a gentle sigh, she sits herself down, closes her eyes and takes several deep breaths.
At the sound of the cell door being unlocked, the young girl re-opens her eyes. The expression on her face doesn't change, even as the guards enter the room, her only reaction a slight yelp as they manhandle her to her feet and through the door. As she passes Blackerly, she raises her head and casts him an icy glance, before being marched out of view.
Glad to be free of her restraints, and the vice-like grip of her escort, Libby takes the opportunity to stretch her limbs, to get the blood flowing around her body again. Aware of the sharp pain she feels from the branding, the young girl is torn between trying to relieve her discomfort and finding out who the woman sat before her is. She chooses the latter, merely placing a hand tenderly over her wound to try and dull the ache, at least temporarily.
Her visitor starts to speak, and Libby listens intently. Her eyes, lined red and wet with tears, take in every detail of the stranger's face, her clothing, her expressions. She doesn't speak, nor react, except to take the offered gift, tying it loosely around her upper arm and ensuring that the sleeve of the rags she wears completely obscures it.
Looking back to the woman, Libby holds her gaze for a brief moment, then nods, almost imperceptibly. Tears roll freely down her cheeks, a combination of pain and the slightest glimmer of hope that has just been given to her.
Of course, it could all be an elaborate hoax; a game played by persons unknown for amusement at my expense.
The doors opens and Arash's tail falls limp behind him. Don't give them a reason to suspect you have a limb free. He watches the guards as they go about their business, keeping his eyes low, but taking stock of their gear. How well equipped are they?
______________________________
You can see that the guards are all wearing chain shirts and carrying longswords, a blunt-looking club and heavy wooden shields. You don't see any ranged weapons on them as they enter the cell.
Tiadora gives you a cold stare. "You are wise to remain silent and ask no questions, but this is no time for tears. You have been given an opportunity. Don't squander it," she says. Her tone remains stoic, "Three days. Should you fail, it seems we would have little use of you and your friends."
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 cries, embracing you and giving you a soft kiss on the cheek. The kiss is ice-cold and feels somehow alien and inhuman.
Blackerly shakes his head. “I’m afraid it’s time, miss.”
She looks deep in Blackerly's 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,” he repeats, his voice almost mechanical. Then the watch sergeant seems to snap out of it and bows politely. “A pleasure, madam,”
She leaves the room unveiled and her eyes meet your one last time and she briefly gives you a wicked smile. “Three days,” telepathically echoes in the PC’s mind. “Don’t disappoint me, dearest.”
The visitation concluded, you are taken back to your cell by a cadre of guards and shackled once more.
After only a few minutes, the door at the end of the hallway opens. You see Libby is once again surrounded by a group of guards - absent Blackerly this time - and forcibly shoved down the hallway towards your cell. The guards once again enter warily and shackle Libby. They leave the cell, never taking their eyes off of you. The cell door is locked once more and you are alone again.
Poki watches as the guards bring the silent girl back. Her hackles rise again, but this time she silences the instinctive growl.
"I wonder," Poki says, once the guards have disappeared from the cells, [b]"How the quiet girl fared? She doesn't look like she has much fight in her, does she, but perhaps if they pushed her she might have struck back. Does the Blackerly have any claw marks on him, I wonder?"
Poki studies the girl, trying to tell what may have changed about her. Bruises perhaps, or blood (either her own or others), or maybe she's trying to hide an object given to her.
"don't keep us all in suspense dear, what was that all about?"
Kermit emerges from behind Myra's feet and skitters over to Poki, climbing up onto the bound gnomes shoulder. Once there he turns about a few times and settles in. traitor, but she did talk of bugs, perhaps you'll get lucky
You are unable to notice anything changed about her. She looks as she did before she left the cell.
Unable to free myself. I indulge in a nice nap to conserve my energy. Who knows when I might need it
When the girl returns, I make soft snoring sounds for a moment as pretend to continue my nap.
Ignoring any questions aimed at her, it's some time before the girl does anything other than stare at her lap, as though deep in thought. When finally she does act, it's to raise her head and look each of the occupants of the cell over, holding their gaze should they glance in her direction.
Once done, she appears to rub her cheek on the bicep of her right arm; it's a few heartbeats before you realise she's manipulating the sleeve of the rags she wears, sliding it down towards her shoulder to reveal a strip of delicate silk, black, encircling her upper arm. Taking an end in her teeth and gently tugging at it, she slides it from around her limb and then, raising her head, takes it with her hands.
Very aware of the gaze of everyone in the cell, she unfolds the fine material.
The piece of fabric Libby holds appears at first glance to be a fine, but simple silk veil of gossamer cloth. But upon closer inspection, you see small cloth patches of various shapes.
Player Handout: Tiadora's Veil
Gideon had been all too calm when Libby was taken out the cell, having simply watched the quiet girl with a curious gaze. He remains so even after she makes her return, asking no questions of the young human. Nonetheless, his eyes are immediately drawn to the fabric she holds out before her, a frown creeping onto his placid features. Something up her sleeve...? Did she have that before?
Myra holds down her growing temper at the girl lucky for her we are all bound or i'd force an answer
when libby pulls out the veil, Myra can't help but ask again, trying to remain patient, but clearly not succeeding.
"Where did you get that?"
Poki loses interest in the quiet girl very quickly, as she now has a scorpion to play with! She cradles Kermit between her cheek and shoulder, and clicks to him very intently. Every time she feels his tiny feet on her flesh she smiles and wiggles.
"Poki's afraid she doesn't have anything to feed you. They bathed her and took all her bugs. Even the lice! But we can still cuddle. Now, show me your claws. That's right, show me your claws. Such a good boy. So fearsome!"
She's distracted from her new friend by the large piece of gauzy fabric the quiet girl unfolds. Poki glances over at it and sneers, "Very pretty. And therefore worthless." And returns to playing with Kermit.
But a moment later she frowns and turns back to looking at the veil. "Is that a rope? And a sword? Why would someone have snipped those out of cloth? And are those lockpicks? You are a strange, strange girl."
"A piece of fabric?" Arash raised an eyebrow as the girl pulled the cloth from her sleeve. What is that? How did she get such a thing? Quite peculiar...
He glances at Myra as she asks her question. You mirror my thoughts. "Patience. It is not like we have anything else to do but discuss at the moment."
He nods to Poki, "Strange indeed. You would not typically see such things on such an item."
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You are unable to identify what the object is and you've never seen anything like it before, but you are certain that it is magical.
"Where I got it from isn't the question you should be asking." Still focussed on the veil, it's the first time the teen has been heard to speak. Her accent indicates an outsider; certainly not from anywhere on the lake, nor even from the Heartland. Despite speaking softly to avoid alerting the guards, her voice rings out clear and confident.
The girl examines the cloth more closely, taking a moment to evaluate it.
"Now, someone mentioned 'tools'...". At this, Libby maneuvers the delicate material in her hands until she's able to touch one of the embroidered rods. Taking a breath, she first touches and then swiftly pinches the fabric, as though retrieving a real pick.
Instantly and easily, the patch is removed from the fabric and becomes a solid, tangible object - a set of masterwork thieves' tools.
Arash's eyes widen for a second before a large grin spreads across his face, "And now a means of escape makes itself apparent." He looks over to Stavros, "I believe you were asking about tools of a particular sort, correct?" He points to the picks with his tail. "Well, someone was listening... You got your wish."
Gideon's eyes widen momentarily when he sees the veil's power, a small smile creeping onto his face soon after. "Ample opportunity," he repeats with a smirk. Looking at his bindings once more, the ex-paladin gives them a good pull.
Grunting when the chain does not yield, Gideon turns his attention back to the girl, and then to Stavros. "First thing is first then."
"Finally. Something of use."
Clearing her throat gently, the young girl waits until she has regained the full attention of those in the cell with her. She speaks slowly and clearly. "If we're to escape from here, we need to work together. Should we get out, I imagine that very few people will be prepared to help us; not least of all because of the rather sizable bounties on our heads. Consider: you have a prison that you're rightly proud of; one that no-one has ever escaped from. How far do you go to recapture five people that do escape? I imagine that the amount of money involved will be enough to make even the most loyal of friends think twice about reporting you.". She pauses to let the idea sink in. "The person who engineered this opportunity is also one who would aid me on the outside...myself and those of you who escape with me, I should stress. And not only aid us but...". The girl appears to consider her words. "Let's just say that this person has plans for those who do escape."
The young girl's mouth curls up slightly at the corners; a gleam shines in her eyes. The young girl that, barely two hours ago looked close to breakdown, holds the tools to escape literally in her hands.
"So, shall we?", she enquires. Placing the picks into her mouth, she leans across to pass them to her impatient sister-in-crime.
Kermit, please be a dear and grab those picks and bring them to Stavros. Now, assuming sir Scarbeard can get us out of this cell, anyone know the way out of this prison?"
Kermit reluctantly leaves his perch on Poki's shoulder, but once down he quickly makes his way to Libby, climbing up and grabbing the picks in his claws. It's not long before Stavros feels the picks in his right hand and ocne he grasps them, Kermit releases his grip.
I believe I asked the correct question, who in the nine hells would free us. Friends of my new companions, agents of Asmodeus, some group opposed to Mitra? I would know who we are indebted to, lest they come calling
"Poki's friends are bugs, so she doesn't worry about betrayal. Or about finding a place to live, though she will miss her gully." A wistful look passes over the gnome's face as she remembers her favorite wallow, which is probably too infested with Mitrans to return to.
"But if this person will help Poki torment those who have imprisoned her, then she would be very happy to meet them."
"Besides," Poki smiled, "Poki has already promised to make sure you all get safely away."
