Players, I won't do this often, if characters miss their rolls, they miss their rolls and I don't let you 'peek inside', but in this case, in honor of our new online game, here is some player knowledge if you PCs happened to roll a DC 21 Knowledge Local, or DC 15 Profession Judge Magistrate.
Sir Cudjet has a visitor? Wait, are condemned prisoners even allowed visitors? No. No, they never ever are. And in Braderscar? An impossibility.
Amidst wiping her heavy tears, the beautiful woman turns to Sergeant Blackerly.
"Could we please have a moment alone, good sir? And for pity’s sake, remove those soldiers in the adjoining the room as well! Clearly my dearest brother is in shock and can barely speak! Please sir!"
Blackerly goes blank for a bit and then quickly agrees.
"Of course, m'lady. For you, ’tis no problem. No problem at all."
The Watch Sergeant takes a slow step, then another, as if in a dream.
Then Sergeant Blackerly begins to step more surely, and heads outside and shuts the door behind him. Through the closed door, muffled orders then footsteps of men departing can be heard.
Giving a thankful nod, the blonde haired woman expertly dabs a final theatrical tear from her eye, perfectly timed as Blackerly shuts the door behind him.
Leaving the two of you, 'brother and sister', alone together.
The Knight looks around his surroundings, is there something here he can use as a weapon? Something he can put to use for an escape?
Its quite evident that terrible things have happened in this room. There are telltale bloodstains in the corners and what looks like a blood splatter on the edge of the table that was washed off long ago.
He then turns to his 'sister'.
Alone at last. Will he die in this room?
Is this an assassin sent by Edderly?
Sir Cudjet"Dear 'Sister' its been forever since I saw you ... In fact, I would say its almost like I have never seen you."
The Knight's face shows no emotion. He would make a killing in a gambling hall.
As soon as Blackerly leaves the room, the woman's demeanor visibly changes. She drops all pretense of grief or concern. She is immediately all business.
"Have you truly forgotten me, Dearest brother? And you must know Edderly would neither have the resources nor backbone to use someone like me." she says with a smirk.
The Knight barely keeps his composure that time, Did she ... did she just read my mind?
"Who are you? What do you want? You have me at a disadvantage my Lady."Sir Cudjet attempts to put an edge of a threat in his voice.
The lady continues, if she feels threatened, there is no sign of it.
"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 ... shall we say cramp, shabby and lackluster accommodations. So, it seems you must escape."
"Oh, don’t look so dour. Just because it’s never been done before is no reason you can’t be the first.
She continues, locking your gaze with hers to make sure that you comprehend her words.
"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. Do you understand, my Dearest brother?"
Surprisingly, Sir Cudjet catches the hint of a threat coming from her.
"If your about to tell me that I and that band of criminals and worse are on our own as far as the escape part of the plan, I really don't see how anything is different from before we met."
"So there is a reason you are here."
"Our mutual 'friend' sent you to provide help getting us out of this cesspit."
Cudjet's 'sister' smiles at this, it is not a warm smile.
No compliments for the sound reasoning are forthcoming from Tiadora.
She is all business.
Tiadora takes off her veil and you notice her full and quite well formed lips. Then, she raises two long elegant fingers.
"There are two reasons to think escape may be possible ... for a group that is clever and strong."
Her eyes lock with Cudjet's and the veteran warrior finds himself suppressing chills.
"First, Branderscar Prison is going through, shall we say, a difficult patch. This weak, stupid kingdom does not give a high priority to the torture and death of those such as yourselves. The current Warden fancies himself an intellectual."
"In reality he is an academic fool who is more interested in magical studies than in discipline, and the leadership of the guards has become lazy and corrupted, at best."
She smiles at you yet again, this time her lips part to reveal her teeth, which are perfect, small and white and very even.
"They've even let the anti-magic ward run down. I am sure some of your companions have noticed a humming in their head."
Sir Cudjet wills himself to break eye contact. He can not.
"I would not know, I have hardly said a word to ..."
She cuts him off. Still all business.
"The ward requires some rather expensive components to maintain, and that money has found its way elsewhere ... Oh, it still works, my Dearest. But it's far weaker than it should be, and only covers this single building instead of the entire prison. Some of your cellmates may be able to take advantage of that."
In Tiadora's left hand, where she holds her crumpled veil, Cudjet just now happens to notice a golden ring with a rather large ruby.
The Knight is no merchant or jeweler but even he realizes that the ring would fetch a princely sum and be enough to buy off all the guards tenfold.
"Strong and clever, we will see." Cudjet slowly shakes his head.
"It is in MY best interest to leave these 'accommodations' long before the Confessor and the King's Executioner arrive. And I am sure at least some of those who share the cell will feel the same way. I guess we will find just how strong and clever we are."
Cudjet gestures at the ring.
"A ring like that would go along way in dealing with corrupt guards. Though I would Hate for a man like Blackerly to profit from this in any way, even if it saves my life."
Tiadora's expression does not change in any way, but her eye's pierce into the Knight's.
A veteran of many battles, Sir Cudjet is not one to back down easy.
Yet some inner primal instinct within Sir Cudjet suddenly realizes he may have said the wrong words. And despite long experience and hard fought victories, suddenly, ... suddenly Sir Cudjet fells fear
A heartbeat.
Another.
And one more.
Three points in eternity.
The fear does not subside from the Knight, in fact it is as if his heart were somehow held in the palm of the Lady before him.
"Men have died for even looking at my ring the wrong way, Dearest brother,"
While her smile never leaves her lips, Tiadora's eyes narrow, her eyes look into yours as if reading ... no, rather studying, your very soul. This woman does not make idle threats.
And despite her ravenous unearthly beauty, despite the suffering you undergone these past weeks, and despite your all your inner strength, the thin chill of fear that gas creep down your spine lingers.
She raises her left ringed hand, holding the crumpled veil, and deftly shifts the veil to her other hand. Before Sir Cudjet even realizes there is a flicker of movement, before his mind can register she has crossed the space between them, Tiador's ringed hand is at the Knight's throat.
It is a Strong, Forceful, Painful grip and it is not at all as pleasant as Sir Cudjet imagined or hoped.
Tiadora speaks a single word (Sir Cudjet what languages do you speak?) and unnatural warmth emanates from her ringed hand, and the Knight would swear there is scent of sulfur in the air.
As the Knight feels his wounds from the night before to start to heal, Tiadora continues.
"As I said, there were two reasons escape may be possible. Our mutual friend did want me to give you this, something to remember me by."
In a fluid motion Tiadora deftly passes her free hand over her full lips, and the veil completely disappears.
Then with inhuman speed she lunges forward, far quicker than a striking snake. Before the Knight can react, she throws her arms around you and kisses him. Her tongue is small and sharp; it thrusts between his lips, pushing the crumpled veil from her mouth penetrating into his. It is not in any way a pleasant experience. It is in fact quite disturbing and afoul in its sensation.
Just as quickly, she releases the stunned Knight.
Tiadora locks eyes again. They are not to be denied.
"A final time, if you manage to get out, cross the moors. On the old Moor Road seek a manor with a single lantern burning in the second story. There our mutual friend waits."
She then closes her eyes, as if to focus. As f she were mentally summoning a thrall.
Immediately, with practiced ease, her demeanor once more changes and she is again a perfect picture of grief.
"Oh, no, no... it's too terrible ... I can't bear it anymore!"
As if on cue the door opens and Sergeant Blackerly steps in again. He shakes his head."I’m afraid it’s time, miss."
She looks deep in his 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 Brother one more time."
"I am such a good friend,"Blackerly repeats, his voice almost mechanical. He bows politely. "A pleasure, m'lady."
Tiadora leaves unveiled. Her eyes meet yours last time and she briefly gives you a smile. It is a truly wicked smile: you see there is malice in it, and mockery.
"Three days." Suddenly you hear her voice, clearly -- but her lips are not moving; indeed, she is turning away, leaving the room, sobbing as she stumbles down the hall. Yet her voice comes quite clearly into your mind."Don’t disappoint me, Dearest."
Sir Cudjet finds himself slowly rubbing the back of his manacled hand across his lips, as though he had just put his mouth on a wart covered toad or a scorpion. No ... it feels worse than that.
The Knight holds the crumpled veil carefully behind his teeth. Blackerly and the guards are coming to escort him back to the cell.
His visitation concluded, Sir Cudjet is prodded in chains back to the group's cell once more by Sergeant Blackerly and the six other guards.
Once there he is again roughly pushed down, both hands are tightly shacked back to the wall and his feet are attached to the chain that runs the length of the cell. The fallen Knight says nothing as the guards put him back in his chains, he is in fact rather tight lipped.
As the guards leave the cell the door closes with a loud CLANK! before the guard cadre marches down to the end of the hall and slams closed the iron reinforced cell door. Amidst the gloom and darkness of the cell block Sir Cudjet is again locked in chains, linked with the other prisoners.
(Sir Cudjet there is inner heat coming from your wounds as they continue to heal, you are healed for 1 HP))
"I don't know who you are or care. It appears someone arranged for us to be here together. Don't ask me who or why. All I know is we are to escape together. Who are you and what are your skills?"
"I am Sir Cudjet Swearoath. I live by my Knightly Code and for that I'm here. I have not met my match in hand-to-hand combat and will insure our path is clear."
Female Changeling Rogue (Charlatan) 1 (HP 9/9; AC 12/11/11; CMD 12; Fort +0; Ref +3 Will +1; Init +1; Perception +5; Darkvision 60 ft)
"Well there handsome the name's Anastasia Delphine and me skillset is mostly sneaking where one doesn't belong and convincing men such as yerself to be doing what I want," she looks him up and down slowly before adding in a breathy whisper, "it's also something most o' them find to be takin their breath away, but since that will be no help in fighting our way out of here, find me a dagger and I'll kill what needs to be killing, but am asking for just one thing, that Blackerly's throat is mine."
Male Half-elf Hungry Ghost Monk 1 (HP 10)/10; AC 15/15/13; CMD 19 [21 against grapple]; Fort+4, Ref +4, Will +5, Init +6, Perception +12, Low Light Vision)
Hieronymus Greyfield; I have also never met my match in hand-to-hand combat. Azure eyes sweep over to Swearoath and give a piercing chill And unlike "lofty" knights, I need no sword, steed, or lance to fell the whelps who test me.
Male Halfling Rogue1 HP 10/10 AC 15 /11/15 CMD 10 Fort 2 Ref 6 Will 2 Init+4 Perception+8
Smoak steathy looks at the item he got from the guard I am Smoak Tearbringer. I'll let you big strong men do the fighting but first we need to get out of these chains and open the cell door. I might be able to help with that. I do think we should wait for the middle of the night. Much easier to sneak around in the dark.
Female Beastbrood Tiefling Bard 1 (HP 9/9, AC 13/13/10, CMD 13, Fort +0, Ref +5, Will +2; Init +3, Perception +4; Darkvision 60ft)
Khara's unconscious body lays still, slumped against the wall. Her left eye hidden under a swollen purple shiner, and the right side of her face covered in thick blood. The odd angles of her shackled arms indicate that not all bones rest in their proper place. Her breath is shallow and she is completely unaware of the discussion going on.
Male Human Juju Oracle 1 (HP 10/10, AC 11/11/10, CMD 7, Fort +1, Ref +1, Will +2; Init +1, Perception +0)
"Enosh." he whispers, "I am Enosh, I've got friends on the other side..." he pauses, and adds to clarify "...I command the undead, I also have power over positive and negativemostly negativeenergies. The catwoman over there, for instance" he head-gestures to Khara's direction, "If I was able to touch her, I could bring her back... on her feet."
"That garment-" he diverts from the subject and points a boney finger at sir Cudjet's veil, "May I take a closer look at it? Perhaps I could decipher its symbols and identify any magic it might wield".
"As you have acknowledge yourself a practitioner of the dark arts, you will forgive me then if I am not in a hurry to pass whatever this is to you."
"Also, there is magical ward here of sorts, that will impede your or anyone else attempts at using magic. You may or may not have come across it already. Perhaps that's why you are still chained."
(Sir Cudjet there is inner heat coming from your wounds as they continue to heal, you are healed for 1 HP)
Male Half-elf Hungry Ghost Monk 1 (HP 10)/10; AC 15/15/13; CMD 19 [21 against grapple]; Fort+4, Ref +4, Will +5, Init +6, Perception +12, Low Light Vision)
At Enosh's confession to necromancy:
HA! I KNEW it. Still, it is pleasing to see one of such dedication here with these other.....additions....
To the plan at hand:
So the Weeper has the means to break us out, hmmmm? Let him lead the way, and stay behind him. The females (once the sultry one is back among us) will undoubtedly bicker with each other in order to flesh out their queen-bee competition.
A sudden outburst flows from the contemplative grey half-elf
heHehHEHEhhahaHAHAHAhHAHAH!!
Immediately the laughter ceases as quickly as it came, and the half-elf dips his head again in thought
DISCIPLINE!! Damn you, Greyfield, discipline! Now, where were we...
This anti-magic field, if true to its purpose, could suppress the necromancer's abilities. You may need to take him here in the prison Greyfield, as much as it pains to hurt the faithful, but self-preservation is key...it is KEY!
This leaves HIM. Noble lost his way? HmmmmmheHeHEhAhAH...
I want him for research, no no no, I NEED him for research. This is an utmost priority.
But, first things first:
I window pane? Intriguing....would that actually throw a window where needed?
Male Half-elf Hungry Ghost Monk 1 (HP 10)/10; AC 15/15/13; CMD 19 [21 against grapple]; Fort+4, Ref +4, Will +5, Init +6, Perception +12, Low Light Vision)
Just to make a point, while my character plots doom for other characters, he is just making contingencies for the future if plans go off the rails. I am all about the non-PVP aspect of this campaign. It's simply interior dialogue to show that Greyfield is....unstable.
Male Human Juju Oracle 1 (HP 10/10, AC 11/11/10, CMD 7, Fort +1, Ref +1, Will +2; Init +1, Perception +0)
(can I roll any knowledge based on the description of the handkerchief?)
He narrows his dark eyes into a glare, "We're all brothers in binds, sir Swearoath. For such a desperate time, consulting a 'practitioner of the dark arts' is hardly a desperate measure..." his line of thought is disturbed by the maniac giggles of the ghoulish half-elf, "Alright then, I won't touch your precious lady-chief".
Enosh tries to cast Detect Magic.
Concentration Check:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10 If that does not work and no one reacts to Enosh casting, he will try again until he succeeds
It's simply interior dialogue to show that Greyfield is....unstable.
On the contrary, I would postulate a guess here that Greyfield's interior monologue of how best to use and/or kill other party members is exactly what is keeping him stable. Mental exercise to keep the mind sharp.
(can I roll any knowledge based on the description of the handkerchief?)
Maybe, if you can get a Detect Magic up it may be better.
Enosh only
Spoiler:
There is something that you can just barely sense, and cannot easily be describe. It's a very faint humming or whining sound... though it's not heard so much as sensed inside your bones and skull. You have to concentrate hard to pick it up, but it's strangely pervasive and tingly unpleasant.
As you concentrate on even the most basic of spells, Detect Magic, perhaps the very first one you learned to cast, it sould be as simple to cast as breathing is for you.
The faint background hum in your head now grows to a something like a sharp whine, almost a shriek.
You have a distinct sense of pushing against something massive. Whereas before the sensation was unpleasant, now it has become painful.
You grit your teeth. You focus against it. Push through the force. Your will IS strong!
Female Changeling Rogue (Charlatan) 1 (HP 9/9; AC 12/11/11; CMD 12; Fort +0; Ref +3 Will +1; Init +1; Perception +5; Darkvision 60 ft)
What time of day is it?
"Well now, I all for waiting until nightfall as the little one said, and then we'll using that mystical little scrap o'cloth to be slipping these bonds and then do a bit bloodrunning on these guards."
Female Changeling Rogue (Charlatan) 1 (HP 9/9; AC 12/11/11; CMD 12; Fort +0; Ref +3 Will +1; Init +1; Perception +5; Darkvision 60 ft)
Old School Dungeon Master wrote:
Greyfield wrote:
The females (once the sultry one is back among us) will undoubtedly bicker with each other in order to flesh out their queen-bee competition.
Preach on Brother Greyfield!
Hey! It's not our fault, you put two murderous controlling alpha b+%*@es in a room together and trap them there, there's going to be some social maneuvering. I suggest you guys just enjoy the show and then be ready to scream out catfight sometime by the end of the AP.
Female Beastbrood Tiefling Bard 1 (HP 9/9, AC 13/13/10, CMD 13, Fort +0, Ref +5, Will +2; Init +3, Perception +4; Darkvision 60ft)
Anastasia Delphine wrote:
Hey! It's not our fault, you put two murderous controlling alpha b%%+%es in a room together and trap them there, there's going to be some social maneuvering. I suggest you guys just enjoy the show and then be ready to scream out catfight sometime by the end of the AP.
There's no need for maneuvering, obviously Khara will come on top so you can peacefully step down and rest. Obviously a cat would win the catfight.
Male Half-elf Hungry Ghost Monk 1 (HP 10)/10; AC 15/15/13; CMD 19 [21 against grapple]; Fort+4, Ref +4, Will +5, Init +6, Perception +12, Low Light Vision)
Half-elven ears twitch with anticipation, and a wry smile revealing yellowed teeth spreads across his face at the sight of the key.
"Suggestions? Use the Tearbringer's skills to remove these chains and attempt to breach the door. There seems to be a blade on that mystical rag of yours good Sir, and you could use that to...prove a point. I am in no need of a weapon, so by all means it's yours. I am sure Enosh's skills will prove to be a great boon when the need arises...and then the dead will arise heHEheHEHhehe...
As far as our lovely ladies are concerned, if these pathetic excuses for guards are indeed undisciplined, fat drunkards then what could be more enticing than seductive beauty in all its naked glory. That will lull them into position."
Blue eyes dart to meet the transfixing hetero-chromatic eyes of Ana:
"You said it Child; bloodrunning there will be."
Shackled hands reach up to the ashen skin on the chest and his bony fingers trace the outline of a pentagram as hes stares at the matching symbol on the veil:
Male Human Juju Oracle 1 (HP 10/10, AC 11/11/10, CMD 7, Fort +1, Ref +1, Will +2; Init +1, Perception +0)
Enosh mutters in a slightly aches voice, "..the swordsman was right about the magic-blocking barrier... Again." and so he tries once more (with a feeling).
Another concentration check:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24
