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?
Shackled in the cell is a skinny man that once had a neatly trimmed beard and well kept hair framing smooth, tanned skin. However, that smooth skin is marred with dirt and bruises. His dirty, torn finery once marked him as a man of means but now simply shows him as a man who had fallen far from his previous station. Hanging limp in his chains, the man's body spasms on occasion. However, though his appearance is of one that has been beaten and downtrodden, the fire in his eyes shows determination. Looking to the others, he states in a smooth voice, "Well, at least I won't die alone here."
Roger groans slightly as a voice wakes him. Where am I? I remember chasing that criminal scum. Then soldiers coming. My soldiers. I wish I could have seen their faces when they pulled off my mask. Ha! He grins faintly at the thought and shakes his head slightly in amusement. Ow! Well, at least my lessons weren't wasted on them. How many of them did it take? Bah! It doesn't matter now. Wonder how long I'll be here.
Roger looks over at his nearest cellmate - the one whose voice woke him up. "Hey! You! Which prison is this, and when do we get out?"
Varshana's eyelids flutter once or twice. Her left eye opens, slowly, but the right is still swollen shut. "It was just an offer for sex." she mumbles to herself. As consciousness begins to invade her senses she looks down at herself.
Filthy rags, covered with dirt, blood, and something that most would find unidentifiable but is all too familiar to her are her only adornment. The sergeant had been steadfast in his resolve. "His men weren't so steadfast." she mumbles again.
The sound of chains rattling near her brings her head up, and a gasp of pleasure at the pain.
A skinny man seems to be near her.
The dirty but still beautiful half-elf chuckles slightly. Nothing of her bare torso or legs show through the rags, but her arms show scarring and burn marks to the elbows. The signs of prior violence are hidden from time to time by her long, strawberry-blonde hair.
She gives the chains a rattle, and with her arms above her head and crossed, she says out loud to the guard nearby, "Oh, come now boys, surely you can think of something better for me with these shackles than this unimaginative...position." Her slight pause at the word position she uses to rub her thighs together slowly.
Giving a short snort of amusement, the man responds in his smooth voice. "Have you never heard of Branderscar friend? It is where the corrupt send the just for acting out against the crown and Mitra's grand design. In short, we are not getting out." Those perceptive enough will note that the movement of his eyes don't match his words. While he spoke of defeat, his eyes scanned for anything in the room that might be useful in an escape.
While he looked around, he continued to make conversation with Roger. "Since we are doomed for either a lifetime of labor or a gruesome death, no harm in getting to know those who face similar fates. What brought you to this place?" In contrast to his thoughtful words, his shoulder spasms almost violently, causing the chains to rattle in reaction. However, the man seems to not notice the spasms, as if he had grown accustomed to such episodes.
Roger laughs heartily upon hearing his prison's name. He appears genuinely amused. "Branderscar, huh? I should have known they'd send me here. The only one who's doing anything good in this kingdom, and they throw me in with you lot." He tugs at his chains for a moment, testing for weakness.
Escape Artist:
"Yup, we're definitely in Branderscar. This here's some quality workmanship." Roger looks over at the skinny man. "Sounds like you're like a revolutionary or something, huh? Acting out against the crown? Nothing just about that."
He then glances at the attractive half-elf. "What about you, sweetcheeks? You here 'unjustly' too?"
waking up coughing, a small bit of blood in his spittle Dargon awoke with a start.
He glanced around and a low chuckle escaped his lips next.
Well. we've gone and done it then. Brandescar you say. Seems I recall hearing that noone escapes Brandescar.
He flexed his fingers as he tested the manacles that held him to the wall. Then eyed the chain that ran from his feet both directions, to the skinny one doing the talking and over to someone who was still unconscious.
He remembered the last beating in a series of beatings he had received upon arrival. He mused whispering softly Self Righteous Louts think they are better than us
He flexed his feet and stretched as he could. He glanced to his right Names Dargon Lake. Im doomed as a Forsaken because I was a better swordsman than that fop Geoffrey Layles, or should I say..the late Geoffrey Layles, once a minor noble of no account...now fish food, and you are?
Giving an unimpressed scowl at Roger's word's, Lukasz retorts coolly with "There is plenty just in attempting to cripple a corrupt government. However, it wasn't revolutionary ideas that landed me here and gave me this mark. Turning when he hears Dargon speak, Lukasz replies, "And I am Lukasz Pavo, sentenced here for calling out to creatures not blessed by Mitra."
Varshana looks Roger over, "Unjust? No, but embarrassing to say the least. I see that my cheeks are just as sweet as yours is." she licks her lips as she gives that little quip. "I am Varshana. Tell me, do any of you strong handsome men think they could get me out of here? I would be more than willing to make it worth it your while."
She kicks a foot out slightly, jerking the chain attached, "Oh please, dear guard, don't you think you should tighten my restraints just a bit?"
Elijah Moore creeps to consciousness. Slowly lifting his head, chains rattling as he does so. He slowly open his right eye, the other eye swollen shut from the beating taken. His rags are torn, and he tore open his chest rags to show the mark of Asmodeus proudly.
Where the bloody hell am I? Never mind, with the restraints I can already tell I am in Brandescar. Elijah will give each hell mate a once over. Never paying too much attention to anyone in particular. If addressed as to reason for occupant he will respond in a monotone voice, I got hungry while on watch, got food, and caused a plethora of deaths. Mitra abandoned me in my time of need, he spits in the direction of the guard when saying it so I have pledged myself to Asmodeus he came to me in my time of need. Mitra will fall, even if not by my hands by the powerful Asmodeus!. He shows off his birthmark of sorts.
What a lot I got thrown with, oh well I am gonna be hung soon anyways
Looking to his left to see the now awake warrior of Asmodeus, Dargon laughed. You speak of Gods? You really think one cares more for you than another? Nay it is not their fault we are hear. Nor do they care one whit what happens to us. I have no use for them. The only thing that matters is cold steel in your hands or the feel of a woman. HA! But I doubt Ill be feelin either of those things anytime soon. Nay, the Gods do not matter...Now those hypocritical ignorant servants of Mitra...them I could do without. Talk about love and goodness as their fists are thumping your body. Yes them I could do without.
Lanarial watches each of the others come to. After a lifetime of beatings, he seemed to recover first among the line. "Welcome to failure, my friends. We have each failed in some way and our sorry hides wound up branded, chained, and tossed in this cell."
But that has been the mistake of many in my life. They abandon me. They discard me. They give me a chance to escape and then wreak my vengeance. Because if I'm not dead, then I still have a chance to complete my mission and kill the man who put me here in the first place..."
"Besides - that which does not kill me only postpones the inevitable..." Lanarial catches Elijah's maniacal giggles, but has to stop when he coughs up blood and his face creases in pain.
"So, at the very least, we have murderers, heretics, and a bloody deserter." Roger glares at Elijah as he says that last word. "As for you two," he looks at the two half-elves, "I'm sure you deserve to be here too. Not that anyone cares, but I'm Captain Roger Stephens of the Talirian Guard. I served this kingdom faithfully by day. By night, I worked alone to purge filth from its streets. And how am I repaid? Branded a murderous vigilante and thrown in with you lot. The hypocrisy makes me sick! "
"You would have done better to purge the filth from this fair city's church...you and I both sought justice. We both took matters into our own hands when the system failed to recognize the despicable things people do. I, however, was not blinded by station or trappings of wealth."
ahh a Guardsdman. So how do you like being on the receiving end of the beatings ehh? Cant you see the falseness of the righteous?
A group of six guards, heavily armed and ready for trouble, come into the cell led by a fat well-dressed sergeant of the watch. Every one of you recognizes Sergeant Tomas Blackerly . This was the man who held the brand that marked each of them. He laughed as your skin burned. Right now, though the sergeant seems a little dazed.
He points to the Dargon and says gruffly:
“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.”
Three guards stay near the wall, expecting trouble. They carefully watching each of you ready to react to any movement. Two others step up securing Dargon's arms, while the last of the guards produces a key loosely hanging from his belt, unshackling Dargon's feet first, then his arms.
Dargon scowls at the Sergeant. as he says when he walks in Miss me already? and here I thought you said you loved another...
when he's told he has a visitor he cocks an eyebrow and glances at the others. shrugging. but his eyes said plenty. I wasnt expecting anyone Must be one of the ladies of me past, come to bid me a find farewell before there is no head to say farewell to
Once released from the manacles he rubs his wrists and stretches. Sergeant...do tell the maid to make the bed while Im gone like a good soul ehh?
"Oh a captain of the guard? I'm sure you've heard my name then. Varshana Altridge and her wicked ways of lust...and like a preying mantis she leaves her lovers marked for life. A rather less than innocent priest of Mitra can attest to this now...although some of your enthusiastic compatriots came to the church a little too quickly."
When the sounds of the men are heard by her she tries to straighten up against the wall and look as innocently beautiful as possible. "Seargent, wouldn't you like me to come along as well? I'm sure a fine lady would want me to accompany this bravo Dargon in her company."
The guards flanking Dargon quickly pull his arms behind his back, roughly leading him out of the room. The rest of you lot are once again alone in your cell, though it is clear a couple guards are stationed on the other side of the door.
Dargon you are escorted roughly to a meeting room down the hall and shoved into a chair. There waiting for them 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.”
“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 impatient to leave.
"So maybe I'm not the only one who's been unjustly condemned." Roger paused as the guards enter.
Sense Motive:
Once they've left, Roger's attitude changes noticeably, and he lowers his voice. "Something's not right; that Sergeant's being magically influenced. Something's afoot...."
At the glare by the fallen Captain, Elijah snorts then responds in turn,
So, a fallen Captain huh. Go figure then even when you're sentenced to this shithole, you still have the pretentious aura of being superior to everyone around you. Maybe you were one of the scumbags who found me guilty of desertion, maybe I should gut you like the flounder you are? No, that's would just validate your twisted image, I'll let the Mitran order let them have their satisfaction. Though I would love to take a few Mitran and Talirian with me as I go loudly into that dark night. Now, last I checked, the Talirian and Mitran orders found you guilty of crimes. At least my actions caused deaths, where as YOU actually killed people with your bare hands. You can judge me all you want just know...YOU ARE JUST AS DAMNED AS I IN THE END Elijah smirks and chuckles a bit seeing a beloved Talirian guard captain in hell with him.
When the guard comes for Dargon
Hm, hey Dargon was it. Don't have too much fun, Elijah says with a boastful laugh.
"Seargent, wouldn't you like me to come along as well? I'm sure a fine lady would want me to accompany this bravo Dargon in her company."
One of the guards flanking Dargon replies, "We were all told what you did to the good priest and the guards that detained you whore. So you'll shut your mouth, or I'll break it shut. I'd prefer not to, lest the common folk be denied your screams as Mirta's flames take you.
"I took the lives of criminal scum. You were an incompetent who left good men to die. We're nothing alike. It's true I got no love for Mitran hypocrisy, but at least I did my duty. Don't know why I'm bothering explaining myself. Guess 'cause there's nothing better to do"
Hearing Elijah's proclamation Lukasz smiles, Good, I am not the only follower of the Archfiend among this lot. Turning to Elijah, Lukasz says, "Yes, Mitra and House Darius will both fall, in time." Fighting a spasm attack that wracks his left leg, Lukasz waits for it to pass, watching as Dargon is escorted out by that fool who branded them all, before turning his head towards Roger and continuing. "I would watch your tongue though friend, before you start to sound the fool. We all seem to be here for reasons that warrant our time here. Talingarde holds plenty of prisons, large and small, but only Branderscar is for those that the crown and the country can do without. I may see House Darius as unjust, but I do not have delusions that what I did was in anyway good. If you are here for murder, then you are here for murder of the foulest intent. At least, that is how the church and crown see it. As such, let us drop the pretenses shall we. Once we crossed into this place, I stopped being a noble and you are no longer a captain. Do not take it as an insult and see it for the truth it is."
Fair enough, besides the man who can't control his body is right, Lukasz was it? The Mitran crown all finds us to be the worst of the worst and as such condemned us to this hell hole.Our old lives are gone, who cares why. All that matters is giving the guards as much hell, before we serve our sentences., Elijah, looks up to the ceiling, and scans the room for anything useful.
Varshana gives a hollow laugh to the guard who responded, "Ahaha. Come now, to be so scared of little me, all chained up here. The good priest looks much cuter now in my opinion."
She struggles a bit more against the chains as they guards leave with Dargon. Her shifting body moves the ragged fabric barely covering her giving momentary glimpses of her form underneath.
You see scars and burn marks on her body that shows through once in a while. Not randomly placed but with a pattern you can't quite discern.
Roger's quiet for a minute before responding to Lukasz and Elijah. "As much as I hate to admit it, you're right. I don't know anything about you, and in my anger at being caught caused me to speak unwisely. Kinda stupid to spend our last few days insulting each other, so I'll shut my face. What's done is done."
He pauses to admire Sweetlips' struggling form.
He then (thankfully) resumes speaking Common. "Speaking of giving the guards hell, that one Sergeant was under some sort of spell. Didn't look like whats-his-face Dargon expected it, so there's something else going on. Anyone got a friend on the outside or something?"
Me, friends, HA. The only friends I have now are these chains and the lot of you all. Elijah replies with a grand laugh. The though of having 'friends' is quite amusing to him. What about you dearie?looking towards Varshana, You seem to have made a lot of friends, you got anybody coming to aid us? he says while pondering what the hell Roger said.
Roger's comment drawing his attention to the woman's form, he seeks to determine what the man means.
"Elven? Really, dear captain, you do surprise. Although the sound of your voice does leave much to be desired." She looks down at her stomach, "These were all done by me, well, the first was done by my mother. You could see the rest, if you'd be so brave as to rescue me from here."
Elijah's promptings draw a slight sneer from the woman, Friends...no. None that would be able to come to my aid. I make friends as I need them..." The sentence goes unfinished as a particularly cruel bite from the manacles cause her to shudder. Her face betrays the feeling as joy rather than pain.
Dardon follows the guard and when he see's the woman he bows low. Yes my dearest it has been a long time has it not.
he nods approvingly. As the guard departs. Well My dear that is a handy talent you have. He grins and says I know not why we are wanted, but if you have an idea on how to escape I am all ears.
When she hands him the veil he pauses and then looks closely at it....
Lanarial just watches. And listens. Ever the shadow. For this is how he survived the orphanage. Don't get noticed. Fade into the shadows. But when someone DOES notice you, be ready to fight because everyone hates the bastard half-breed.
Hell, he doesn't even know to grimace at the butchering of his mother's language, since she wasn't alive to teach him Elvish...
But he DOES notice Varshana, and her form under the rags, and decides he might as well stare, because it ain't gonna get any worse than what awaits him...
Besides, maybe he'll have something better to focus on when they're slowly pulling his intestines out...
The veil 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.
"I'm sorry dearest, I've helped as much as I can."
[i]While beautiful of face, the woman's body holds a nasty surprise that relates a brutal history. Though deluded, the former captain looks strong and capable. I hardly noticed the quiet one, a skill that would come handy in an escape. The one with the friend might be the means I need to escape this place and the fellow follower of Asmodeus is forthright and strong. If this 'friend' pays off then this might be the opportunity we need.[/b]
Turning to the others, Lukasz says, "Nor do my friends want to continue association with me." Not wanting the guards to understand this nest part, Lukasz says in the words of Hell, hoping someone will understand
I believe I can find a way to handle things from here. he winked at her and bowed with a flourish. Then tucked the handkerchief up his sleeve, practicing once shaking it to get it back to his palm...satisfied he could manage it ; he tucked it back up again and reached out, taking her hand he kissed it gently. Until we meet again.
Running your fingers over the patches, they feel at though they can be easily peeled off.
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 Dargon's one last time and she briefly gives him a wicked smile. “Three days,” telepathically echoes in the Dargon’s mind. “Don’t disappoint me, dearest”.
The visitation concluded, Dargon is taken back to his cell by a cadre of guards and shackled once more. You are all once again secured in tightly locked bands around their ankles and all your hands are shackled above your heads. Lights are dimmed and the door to your block is locked once more. The guards leave though clearly two of them are stationed at the door. The six of you are alone in your cell, pondering how to move forward.
@Lukasz:
When Dargon returns, Roger waits for a few minutes after the guards leave before speaking. "Well? You have a nice time? Feel like sharing all the juicy details?"
Noding at Varshana's words, Lukasz turns to Roger and, speaking in a lower voice for fear that one of the guards outside their cell might understand, says
@Roger:
When Dargon returns, Lukasz looks to the man and, with a smooth smile, says, "Yes, how was your visit with you friend, pleasant I hope."
Dargon immediately palms the veil and goes to work peeling the patch that seems to be thieves tools from the veil. He tries to transfer the veil to the other hand then, and passes it to his right to Lukasz saying Hold this while I work to get us out of here. Yes lots to tell. But first things first.
The patch removed, does become a set of masterwork thieves tools. With your arms secured its harder to work your craft . You must still be cautious not to alert the guards.
Lukasz, Dargon seems to have placed a silken veil into your hand.
"Leave the fellow to think on this woman - be they pleasurable or painful thoughts. Or both, if she was anything like you, wench." Lanarial says in a normal tone of voice.
Infernal: I agree. No sense having a 'simple' death. Lets make a grand exit if we must go. I plan on going loudly into the dark night Elijah laughs, low and booming if told a funny joke. The punchline is the guards face.
When he sees a set of lock picks appear as if out of thin air. He thinks that Asmodeus has come to save him. He makes sure not to make too much noise as to attract attention, patiently waiting to be unshackled.
working in a very focused yet urgent manner Dargon works on the locks on his manacles.
as he works on the locks he says to everyone in a slight whisper We have a benefactor who I do not know. There are other patches on that handkerchief. Notably 2 daggers. Lukasz, be so kind as to pull them off and be ready to disperse them as I unlock the others.
@Lukasz:
"He speaks! I was starting to wonder if you'd died on us. I don't know about you, but I want something pleasant to dream about for the short time I have left here. Anyone got a good story?" Roger then looks meaningfully at Varshana.
Perception:
EDIT: "Dargon, right? I was the Talirian Guard's unarmed combat instructor. If you let me out next, I can keep any soldiers busy if we're heard. Won't need any daggers either.
Eyebrows raising in surprise as Dargon pulls the tools from what seems to be a simple veil. Taking a look at the veil, he smiles at seeing the sign of Asmodeus, however, he doesn't pull it from the veil, choosing instead to wait until he was free.
Dargon, the locks are surprisingly simple. So Simple in fact that they will not jam even if you fail, though your worry should be more towards the guards outside. On your first try, you manage to unshackle your wrists. As you move to the next lock, you'll find each lock both wrists and feet are all simple locks.
Dargon grins evilly as his locks fall free and he looks around quickly at the others...hearing The Guardsman's words he glances between Elijah and him briefly before deciding...and moves to Roger's locks
whispering Alright, hope I can trust ya.
Then he turns and moves back to Elijah and goes to work on his.
he curses under his breath as he fails to open his on the first run through and reattempts it.
Grinning his moves to Lukasz's
when he drops a lock pick to the floor he curses under his breath.