Starting placeholder for a closed Way of the Wicked campaign.
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 brought to the prison in a wagon, bound, gagged and blindfolded. Led into a building and up a flight of stairs, your blindfold was removed as 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 have been placed in a communal cell to await your fate. 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. 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? Branded as the forsaken, you would be hunted anywhere in Talingarde. 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?
As the last of you is shackled to the wall, the 7 guards escorting the last prisoner withdraw from the cell block, locking the cell and cell block doors behind them. All is quiet and dark, the only light a fitful flickering from the oil burning in sconces outside the cells, the only sound your fellow prisoner's breathing.
One of the prisoners tests his chains, in a halfhearted way. He's a relatively tall young man, with medium-length brown hair. From the way he shifts in his chains, and the lack of suntan, it's fairly obvious to see that he isn't used to manual labor.
After assuring that the chains, in accordance with the laws of probability, aren't made of papier-mâché, and for want of something to do, he turns his attention to his fellow prisoners. He strikes up conversation as he studies the other people in his cell.
He speaks with an amused tone, as if he considers his confinement to be a temporary setback in the hurly-burly of modern life. His diction is clear, and his voice is strong, betraying long hours of vocal training.
"Well, aren't we a sorry sight? I, for one, hope they give me back my clothes before my appointment with the block... I'd rather face the next plane in my bardic costume, rather than this-" He gestures down, using his elbows to indicate his prison rags. "- entirely unsuitable ensemble."
His tone changes slightly, showing a little bitterness. "But of course, that is not how it works. Criminals must not have dignity, because that is how simple, honest folk" - this last with a hint of sarcasm, which increases as he continues- "can tell that they are criminals, full of shame and guilt for their crimes. Is this not so, my fellow cell-mates?"
It is clear that he has no love for the Mitran justice system. It is also clear that he is proud, erudite, and that he thinks rather highly of his political acumen.
A young woman at the end of the chain does not move for a few moments, waiting until the guard's footsteps have completely faded away. She has plain, masculine features and unkempt black hair, and seems the kind of person who almost belongs in rags. The only thing about her face that could be called beautiful are her gray-blue eyes, but even those are cold and wary.
Slowly, she stretches out, seeming to take careful note of every muscle in her body. When their companion speaks, she glares at him slightly then returns her focus to herself without an answer. When done taking stock of her condition, she nudges the black haired man next to her and murmurs in a low voice "You okay, Than?"
The young black haired man next to Aella slowly raised his head and looked over at her, the stains of dried tears mixed with blood noticable on his face. "I'm so sorry I wasn't able to save Sparky, Aella. That bastard Balin was able to completely overpower me, and then made me watch as he dismembered him." Tears began to roll down his cheek. "If we could make it back home somehow, I'm sure I could piece him back together good as new."
After a few moments he stops crying and looks around and takes notice of the other prisoners in the room. He looks back at Aella. "I see we are not the only ones who get to enjoy these lovely accommodations."
"Don't worry, he had a good long life...well, sort of. First priority is getting out of here."
Elaine doesn't bother to struggle against the chains that hold her. She knows she isn't strong enough to break them, or flexible enough to wriggle out. If those miserable guards hadn't confiscated her hair pins, she could pick the locks, but they'd taken everything from her. She hates having her hair and clothes in such disarray. Staying neat and tidy is of vital importance in her lab, and she prides herself on maintaining that standard everywhere. She notices the other prisoners in the cell with her. The two dark haired children seem to be related, and having a conversation to themselves. The announcement from the other young man catches her attention, and as she sees his face, a hint of a smirk crosses hers.
"Goodness, Dav, you can give a speech like that, but you could not talk the guards out of arresting you?" She quirks an eyebrow at him, but doubts he will recognize her in her current state of dishevelment.
For lack of a better plan, Aella tries to escape artist her way out of her bonds, pulling at everyone attached.
Aella tests the limits of the manacles, and finds them properly made, if somewhat old and rusted. She does not believe she could escape from them unaided, but could perhaps eventually wriggle free if she was able to grease her hands or had some form of assistance.
Old and rusted? In that case...
Aella strains against the manacles, muscles taut and vibrating. While the manacles have seen better days, they are still strong enough to hold her, and give no sign of snapping.
Dav turns at the sound of unsuccessful testing of the bonds. "These chains seem very solid. Save your strength; perhaps we may get a chance when the guards come to collect us. I am known for my captivating oratory; if I could distract the guard operating your restraints, that may give you the opening you require."
"...so that's just a fancy way of saying you can talk them into letting us out? Not sure why you waited until you got in here to do it."
Aella will go back to examining the bonds and the room for weak points; perhaps where the chains connect to the wall?
It is difficult to see the rest of the cell due to the dim lighting, but the floor appears to be relatively clean and free of debris. The bars making up the cell walls in front of you and to your left are at least an inch thick and spaced 6 inches apart. It is difficult to tell without testing them if any are loose, but they appear to be solid from a visual inspection. The wall to your right and behind you is made of large rectangular blocks of stone tightly fitted with mortar.
The cell door is composed of a grid of thinner iron bars and is locked. You don't see any obvious flaws in it, but it is 30 feet away and the side facing you is cast in shadow from the lights beyond the cell.
The manacles are held on your wrists by a lock, but you don't know enough about locks to know if it has a weak point.
Dav turns back to the woman next to him, away from the other two. "What words would have swayed Balin, the terrifying- I mean, terrific, scourge of witches?"
"You met Balin as well then? You're right: he's not worth the breath."
Having examined her escape options and not seeing anything promising, Aella will sigh heavily.
"Yeah, not breaking out of here the...breaking way. Really think you can sweet talk the guard into unchaining us?"
"If the guard they send in to move us is fairly weak minded, I might be able to scare him off if you can get him to unchain me."
Thanatos will look around the room, looking around to see if there might be any bones in any of the cells.
Dav considers Than's suggestion. "We may be facing more than one guard; I assume they would be in pairs at least. I can't command, or even suggest, anything concrete. My plan was more to get one guard to freeze at the crucial moment for you to, as it were, put the boot in. How long, exactly, would you need your hands free?"
"Or, as my brother forgets, if you get my hands free, I can just knock one of them out and grab his keys...
Freakin' magic users having to make everything complicated"
Than looks Dav up and down before responding, "I would only need about 6 seconds and if we were lucky I could have him running in fear. Unfortunately I would only be able to possibly handle one guard at most."
Than then turns to Aella and grins, "You do only seem to complain about my magic when it is not ideal for you."
"Ah, well if Sir Balin was your captor then I guess there was no hope for you. The man is positively single minded."
Elaine reaches with her fingers to examine her manacles. She twists them as far as she can to try and look at the lock. Without a pick, it's unlikely she could open it, but it cannot hurt to look.
At the same time, she feels about on the floor with her feet. You never know what you might find on a floor, even one in a prison cell. Perhaps there is something that could be useful for picking a lock.
Your feet feel the rough stone floor, but the floor near you is relatively clean. Unfortunately, there do not seem to be any lock-pick shaped objects in your general vicinity
A thought occurs to Elaine.
"Dav, you must have studied Talingardian history or law at the University. Will we be fed anytime between now and when we are collected for execution? I imagine it would spoil their fun if any of us died of starvation or dehydration before our scheduled time."
Aella also realizes from what Elaine has said that someone is almost certainly going to come and water you between now and your execution or you are likely to die before reaching the block; how that will work, exactly, is still unknown, but since you are chained to the wall and the cell is quite large, it seems likely that someone will have to enter to bring it to you.
"Well, unless one of you is sentenced to die of anonymous dehydration, someone has to come to water us in the next couple of days. And unless they have absurdly long arms or a hose, they're coming into the cell."
"Okay, then! If they unshackle any of us, I will distract them, and the freed person can do what they think best. With luck, we will be able to overpower and disarm one guard before another can enter the cell."
As conversation trails off, the quiet of the cell is disturbed by the heavy tread of feet on stone and the sound of the cell block door unlocking. 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. You all recognize Sergeant Tomas Blackerly picture. This was the man who held the brand that marked each of you. He laughed as your skin burned. Right now, though the sergeant seems a little dazed.
The group of guards approaches the cell door, and Sergeant Blackerly points at Elaine 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."
The guards unlock the cell door, and two guards move to unlock Elaine’s manacles while one unlocks the chain strung through your leg irons. The other three guards stand ready with batons, ready to provide the thrashing Blackerly has promised if anyone dares to cause trouble.
Aella will peer at the sergeant, wondering why he seems so flustered.
Dang! I hoped they would unlock the other two. And there's too many to rush...
Dav attempts to make eye contact with Than, then looks wildly at the three guards with truncheons, and then shakes his head at Than with a frustrated expession.
Then he looks at the young woman, who is looking intently at the sergeant. What is she doing? Wait, he does look a little... Off... Dav takes a harder look at the sergeant.
Who in the world could be here to visit me? I had better see what's going on. But something is off with the Sergeant there...
The two guards finish unbinding Elaine, and roughly march her out of the cell as the remaining guards relocks the chain running through the remaining prisoner's leg irons. Facing no resistance, the guards leave the cell and lock it behind them. The largest guard, a pale, tall and fit man with a thick black beard looks almost disappointed that he didn't get a chance to hit anyone, but settles for spitting at Than's feet before leaving the cell.
Elaine is marched out back to a meeting room down the hall outside the cell block. Elaine knows this room well; it is where she was branded not an hour ago, and faint smell of burned flesh still lingers in the air. There waiting for her 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. Picture
“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.”
The guards file out of the room, Sergeant Blackerly leaving last with a friendly smile and a nod for the grieving woman.
As soon as the guards leave, her 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. 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 before handing it to Elaine.
“Something to remember me by, dearest.”
Tiadora stands, clearly ready to leave having delivered her message.
Elaine is fascinated by the woman's control of the sergeant. That explains the weird feeling, at least. This whole situation is rather confusing, but Elaine regains her composure quickly.
"A mutual friend? I do not have many friends... But I certainly don't want to stay here any longer." Elaine commits the directions to memory, and takes the offered veil. There does not seem to be much to it, but perhaps there is more than meets the eye.
"Before you go, Tiadora, I don't suppose you know any useful tidbits that might help me and my fellow prisoners get out of here?"
"Well, that was weird," Aella will mutter to the remaining inmates after the guards have left. "Didn't think we'd still be considered human enough to get visitors. Whoever it was must have been someone special to get to Blackerly in such a state."
Elaine turns the veil over carefully, and realizes that she has seen one of these before! It is a fine silk veil, covered in fine patches depicting various objects loosely stitched on with tiny, almost invisibly small runic needlepoint patterns. This is either a Veil of Useful Items, a variant of the Robe of Useful Items that Elaine had studied at university, or a close non-magical replica. Elaine would need her equipment to verify it for certain, or she could try and use it to determine if it is indeed enchanted.
If it matches the robe she has worked with before, the patches will turn into the items they depict when torn from the veil.
-----------------
Tiadora arches an eyebrow at Elaine in response. "Think of this as a test, dearest", the word dripping in sarcasm. "You have all the tools you need, if you keep your wits about you. Our mutual friend looks forward to seeing what you do with them. For advice, I give you this: make haste slowly. You have but three days until you meet the block, but moving before you are prepared could make the difference between freedom and an early grave."
As she finishes speaking, Tiadora strolls over to the door and knocks on it, signaling the guards to return.
"You may wish to hide that" she says, grinning wickedly at Elaine and nodding at the veil.
The wheels begin turning in Elaine's mind as she attempts to puzzle out what the tiny embroidered designs are. Almost anything would be useful at this point, but she can't stop herself from examining it. She comes to her senses though, when Tiadora speaks. The advice makes sense, as does the instruction to try and hide the veil before the guards come back.
The door opens in response to Tiadora’s knock, 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 Elaine a kiss on the cheek. The kiss is ice-cold and feels somehow alien and inhuman.
Sergeant Blackerly 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 Elaine's one last time and she briefly gives her a wicked smile.
Three days, telepathically echoes in Elaine's mind. Don't disappoint me, 'dearest'.
Elaine is escorted back to her cell by the 6 guards, where she is shackled once more. Their prisoner rebound, the guards withdraw, locking the doors to the cell and the cell block behind them and leaving you all alone once more in the dim light of the flickering oil lamps.
Elaine waits until the footsteps of the guards have faded, then turns to her cellmates. "Well that was certainly...interesting. Apparently there is someone on the outside who would very much like us to escape our present confinement in order to meet us. I don't suppose any of you know a woman named Tiadora? Very pale, very blonde, likes to wear a veil like this..?"
She holds up the veil, and begins to run her fingers over the embroidery as best she can.
In the dim light, Elaine is able to make out the general shapes of the patches sewn into the veil through a combination of sight and touch. It has:
* 2 daggers
* Bullseye lantern
* Rope
* A pouch marked with runes for "Spell components" in Infernal
* 4 sets of Common clothes (pants + shirt)
* Set of Thieves Tools
* A stylized death’s head moth, with an exaggerated skull pattern
* A five pointed star
* A window
* A bottle marked with a series of runes spelling "Healing" in infernal
* A box marked with various chemical symbols signifying important alchemical reagents
* A pile of coins