There are hundreds, if not thousands of tales that have the captive hero lead in chains to a mighty fortress. As they round a bend, come out of a tunnel, or crest a hill a massive fortress would loom over the doomed man.
This is not what happens to the group bound for Banderscar. Thick cloth sacks, as rough as the hands that put them over your heads blocks out the sight of the prison as the carriage you all chained in sways and bumps. There is no looming fortress, or grand, majestic towers for the villains to see. They only clue they've arrived is the cessation of the rocking motions and orders being barked by the sergeant driving your temporary prison. They are jostled and shoved into a line and lead up a short flight of stairs and then into a room. Arms are held by guards as the sacks are removed. The light from two braziers is blinding and the heat is stifling. Great drops of sweat drip from noses and run into eyes. A man sneers at each of you from behind a stout wooden table, his receding hair and rosy cheeks doing nothing but adding to the unpleasantness of the man.
"I'm Sergeant Blackerly, and you are the scum of Talingarde. You may think you can escape. You won't. You may think to beg forgiveness. It's too late. YOu are all mine and I look forward to meting out justice in three days. Until then," now the sneer is replaced by predatory smile, "I hope you enjoy this gift. Made special, just for you." He points at Dashuun, leaving no doubt who he meant.
"First, This strange fellow thought he could kill a guardsman while stealing. His reward, a nice brand."
He pulls out one of the irons in the fires with thick gloves on his hands as the two guards wrestle Rengar to the table. He presses the brand into the catfolk's left forearm, while the edges still glowed white, until he howls in pain. As the panting catfolk is taken back to where he first stood, Blackerly replaces the iron into the braizer
"This one used to be one of Iomedae's clergy, but he turned his back on her and all of Talingarde. For his treason, I give him this."
R'Chir is also brought forward by two guards. Blackerly again pulls a cherry-red iron from the fire and presses it into the man's left forearm. Blackerly relishes the howls of pain as he finally pulls the iron away to put it back into the Brazier.
"This one tried to murder a fellow and then pin the crime on a respectable business man. I believe he deserves a gift as well."
The dwarf has three guards on him as he is wrestled forward to the table. The same as before, Blackerly presses the iron into his skin until the dwarf fills the room with his howling.
"Ah how the mighty do fall. This petty nobleman killed his goodly brother in cold blood. Too bad for him, his gift is anything but."
Lucias has two guards on him as well, and a gag that muffles his screams as a the brand burns into his skin.
"This wild man tried to kill a captain patrolling our borders. Let's see how he likes Talirean justice."
Four guards bring forward a giant among men. Again, the brand bits deep and burns until pain-filled howls escape from Dimral's lips.
"What a sin jealousy is. This one was so jealous she tried to kidnap a young girl of the Havelyn family. I think she might look a little pretty if I branded her face."
Two guards bring forward Xrezth and slam her down on the table. Blackerly waves an iron just an inch from the woman's face. The heat is almost unbearable. Finally he presses it into her left forearm and holds it there until she screams in pain.
"And finally, we have someone who likes to play with fire."
Dashuun is brought forward and his arm slammed onto the table. Blackerly pulls out an iron that is cherry red the whole length, except the head which glows almost white-hot. The iron is hot enough to overcome even the Ifrit's immunity to it and he too howls before being pulled back into line.
"There, you have all received the mark of the forsaken." ANd indeed you have. A runic 'F' is now burned into your arms and isn't likely to go away anytime soon. Blackerly turns to the guards and barks, "Get these scumbags out of my sight."
The sacks are thrown back over your heads and aren't taken off until you're in a cell shackled to the wall.
Xrezth smiles inside her hood despite the pain of the brand.
Jealousy, oh how they are mistaken. Much pain will arise from their delusion that they are doing justice.
With this thought, the hooded Xrezth lets out a small chuckle which rises to a full chested laugh until the guards have (I assume) beaten her sufficiently to quiet her.
After being led back to where the others are, Lucias continues to wince at the searing pain on his left arm. His eyes narrow as he looks at the guards in the room with spite.
We shall see whether these men continue to smile when I get my revenge.
Prison? More like a tomb... My kind of place. Zuo-Kuthon's mark shall drink in the pain of the brand, and give me power and insight.
R'Chir casts his good eye about the area at the other prisoners in his cell, and the adjacent cells, to judge their overall health and look for a particularly weak specimen.
Gah you fellows take your branding too seriously. How long did that little sales pitch take him? I got a present for you fellows, burnt hair and some spit! Rengar proceeds to spit a large wad onto one of the guard's shirt before being beat into submission.
Dimral says nothing while being lead to the cell but inside his head he's already planning how to repay the coward they call Blackerly:"Just you wait little worm... I wonder what other clever idiocy you'll spit out while I snap your thin neck like a twig..."
"Give me a moment without these bonds, and I'll show you how to brand..."
R'chir looks around and finds that most of his fellow prisoners are all about the same constitution, and rather tough at that. The other cells are empty.
Once in the cell, Xrezth looks around at the others. After the jailers have left, she looks around at her cellmates. Welcome to Talingarde's version of hell. If only they knew this is paradise compared to the real thing.
She is also playing with her manacles to see whether she can get out.
Escape Artist:
Lucias looks at Xrezth as she plays with her manacles, and gives her a nod of approval while also playing with his own manacles.
Escape Artist:
"I suppose I will have to rely on the others if I am to escape.... I just hope they aren't imbeciles..."
Dashuun attempts to burn through his bonds with magical energy.
Sharp claw sliding out of his paw, Rengar goes to work on the cuffs.
Bah I can't get the right angle on these damned cuffs.
Dogar's thoughts and feelings are expressed much more vocally than most of the others, as he utters a constant stream of vile curses and threats at his jailers, taunting them and tormenting them, even through the beatings. Eventually, they quit simply out of exhaustion, leaving a battered and bruised, but still conscious, smiling and victorious dwarf laughing at thier backs as they leave.
R'Chir, having no way to escape these cuffs and no plan on what to do later, avails himself to his current manacled state. He remains silent, and pays close attention to everything.
He attempts to look withered and weak as well as trying to look as if he isn't particularly observant.
Chuckling to himself and occasionally spitting blood, Dogar first sees if he can break the manacles or chains binding him, and if that fails, tries escaping out of them by other means.
Strength check:
Escape Artist:
Xrezth looks around at the others. So, how much did you all pay for three day Branderscar getaway?
It is clear that social skills are not her strong point.
With all of the rattle chains, a couple of guards walk into the cell block and run their clubs across the bars before shouting,
Once they're sure that the seven of you won't be any more trouble, they walk out of the only door to the cells.
Perception:
Xrezth simply smiles at the comment and files it away for future use.
Perception check:
Dimral stays silent and starts to put pressure on his bindings
Strength check:
The bindings are pretty stout, they aren't going to just break. They are also fairly well maintained, and are tight on wrists and ankles, slipping out of them is not going to be easy.
When nobody responds to Xrezth's inquiry, she simply sits back and begins to meditate quietly while waiting for the guards to return. It is clear that the shackles were not made to be broken or escaped from.
While doing this, she watches the others trying to get a read on them all. She also carefully scans the room for anything of note, or of use.
Sense Motive:
Perception:
Perception check:
Not getting any results Dimral pauses momentarily and considers his companions, most of them don't impress him much although he stops for a moment to consider the red aired creature but then dismisses it:"Bah! Seems like a bunch of weaklings! I'll probably need to break these chains alone! Let's hope they are useful for something else or I could well die without tasting my revenge!"
After concluding that thought Dimral starts to put pressure on the bindings again.
Strength check:
Rengar looks around the cell for anything he can use as a pick or a shiv.
Rengar sees naught but carnivorous dust bunnies and their lint puppy prey.
Dimral's struggling gets the attention of guards posted at the door to the cellblock.
One of the Guards opens the cell door and lets the other in to thwack the barbarian's feet.
The guards leave, but a few minutes later, six of them march in with Sergeant Blackerly.
"I hear we've had some trouble out of you barbarian. Keep it up and you'll be lucky to live until your execution." He spits in Drimal's face before rounding on Xrezth. "YOU! You've got a visitor. I have no idea how you have such a noble and kind lady for a relative, but she apparently wants to say goodbye."
Two of the guards cover Xrezth's head before releasing her shackles from the wall and guiding her out of the cell block.
“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.”
Blackerly leaves, almost mechanically, and shuts the door. As soon as this happens, the lady shifts demeanor dramatically.
“Have you forgotten me, dearest?” the unexpected visitor says with a smirk, dropping her pretense of grief. “Call me Tiadora. We possess a mutual friend who would like to meet you and your fellow cell-mates. Unfortunately, our friend is unwilling to visit you in your present rather shabby accommodations so it seems you must escape. Don’t be so dour. Just because it’s never been done before is no reason you can’t be the first.
“If you manage that, cross the moors on the outskirts of town. On the old Moor Road you’ll see a manor house with a single lantern burning in the second story. There our mutual friend waits. That is all I know. He did want me to give you this.” She takes off her silken veil and wipes away a few fake tears with it.
“Something to remember me by, dearest.”
Perception:
Dogar sneers at the guards as they make their threats but stays silent for now. He may not be the smartest of the bunch, but he is wise enough to know not to waste his strength when it will do him no good.
Chuckling slightly to himself as the big barbarian gets beat, he times horking a big lugie to just miss one of the guards as they are leaving.
Sense Motive: <-- Gotta love well timed crap rolls.
Sense Motive #2:
Xrezth listens to the woman without expression. When she finishes, Xrezth takes the veil and looks at it quickly figuring there must be some reason it is being given.
Perception:
Thank you m'lady. I am sorry that I have not seen you . . . in some time. I will meet our benefactor at the manor house. I hope those in the cell with me agree to join me, but considering their crimes, I doubt all will join willingly.
Xrezth then cracks her knuckles. This is a very pretty veil, I shall bring it with me unless you wish otherwise. If you do not have anything else for me, we should call the Sergeant before something . . . unholy . . . is suspected.
Rengar focuses on making an escape plan, giving no attention to the drama of others. Cats may have nine lives, but trying to save anyone else might take a few too many.
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 Xrezth 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 the PCs one last time and she briefly gives them a wicked smile. “Three days,” telepathically echoes in Xrezth’s mind. “Don’t disappoint me, dearest”. The visitation concluded, she is taken back to her cell, after having the sack once again thrown over her head and lead back the way she came, by a cadre of guards and shackled once more.
After what seems like twenty minutes, Xrezth is lead back into the cell and shackled.
Xrezth waits for the guards to remove her hood and to shackle her.
Once the guards have left, she turns and quietly speaks to Lucius and Dashuun.
It seems we have a friend who does not wish for us to meet the same fate as all those imprisoned here before us. Pass this message to the others, but I will need the word of each person before I will speak further.
Xrezth's sharp eyes scan back and forth both ways to see the responses of her neighbors and those seated next to them as the message is passed.
Lucias nods to Xrezth, indicating his approval. However, due to his gag, he can't produce the words to pass on a message. He nudges Dimral lightly. Then, looking to Dimral, he nudges his head toward Xrezth to indicate she has a message, lifting up his shackles, hoping that Dimral understands.
Xrezth relays the message to Dimral.
Once everyone has nodded in acknowledgement, I take the veil which I had concealed in my hand and open it up and look at it carefully. I doubt the woman would have given it to me unless it was a tool of some sort.
R'Chir nods and looks on, interested to see what was going to happen. This is gonna turn into a sideshow. At least I will die entertained, he muses.
Dashuun is mostly irritated that he can't speak. Still, he listens, nods, and smiles as he contemplates revenge on his captors.
The veil has several patches on it. Two of them resemble daggers, another a star formed by what looks like thorny branches, a third appears to be a stack of coins. Other patches look like a coil of rope, a lantern, a sack, and a flask of something. The last patch depicts something that would cause a lot of trouble if you actually had them in your possession, a set of lock picks, but seeing as they are only a picture and not the real thing, it seems Talingarde's sons have nothing to fear.
...but seeing as they are only a picture and not the real thing, it seems Talingarde's sons have nothing to fear.
Sensing something significant is up, Dogar nods barely perceptiably. But his eyes are glued on the female human, as her stares at her intensely, watcing her every move.
Quietly: Do any of you not gagged know how to determine whether this is magic? And what it does? It seems strange to have taken so much effort to give it to me for it to be just a veil.
Dashuun shakes his chains a little, points to himself, and rolls his eyes.
"Why dinnae ye tell us what that thing be n' wat ye see then lass"
"Ye daft broad..."
He finishes, mumbling more to himself
Lucias rolls his eyes and nudges Xrezth, motioning for her to give him the veil.
R'Chir gives a shrug when asked about the item.
Oh boy. She got some item from her relative and doesn't even know what it is or how to use it. The Midnight Lord must really want me back in the realm of death.
Xrezth looks over at Lucias unsure of what he can do with the veil. After considering it for a moment, she hands the veil to him, but gives him a severe stare and warning: Any betrayal and you will assuredly pay, on this plane and in the pits of hell after.
"Whatever you want to do do it quickly. Seems like there's some people in need of killing and I want to break their necks!" whispers Dimral.
Lucias considers the threat for a moment before turning his attention to the veil. He runs his hand over it, looking at each patch. He thinks to himself
Assuming that the veil is magical, these patches would be the important components, and they look like tools that would be useful to us. Maybe...
Then, on a hunch, he takes the patch that looks like a set of lock picks, and plucks it from the veil.