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The Cloaked One is always watching...always dotting...always there...
Dotting
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? The wicked must be punished.
The tall handsome Aasimar blinks awake and looks around. At first glance, he seems terribly out of place. How could such a nice-looking man possibly have ended up here? Surely there must be some mistake: he obviously couldn't even hurt a fly! Then you look into his eyes....
They have no pupils - or maybe the entire eye is a pupil. His hollow black orbs seem to stare into your very soul. Calculating ... judging ... watching ... always watching ...
Although he's said nothing up to this point (and, in fact, hasn't said anything since he was caught), if you're a native of Talingarde, it's clear that this can only be one person: The Cloaked One. How many children did he steal away? What ever happened to them? Can even Brandescar hold one such as him? Only the gods know the answers....
You scan the room with cold, soulless eyes. The cell is dark, damp, and smells of sweat and mildew. Torches dimly light the room, enough so that you can make out your fellow prisoners: a scaly man with numerous hook-like growths of bone coming from his skin, a beautiful Elven woman, a strange-looking young man with silver eyes, a powerfully muscled beast of a man, and an Elf with night-black skin that his ghostly white hair. A single slit functions as a window, perched high enough that the tallest among you could barely see through the bottom of it, and the only means of ventilation in the entire cell by your estimation. No guards are posted outside of the door, but you can hear them speaking down the hallway, muffled perhaps by a door. You test the strength of the metal bindings shackling you and find that they are very durable indeed. They appear to be made out of cold iron laced with some sort of other material, the composition of which escapes you at the moment.
The small snake like man begins to stir slowly, his eyes a deep crimson slowly opening. He winced slightly, not very used to the accommodations. The cold iron manacles scratching over his scales. His fork like tongue comes out to lick over his maw. He hissed softly at the people around him, unsure of what they had done to join him. His hands were still ashen and covered with blood from the slaughtering of his family and the burning of his home.
" أفضل نتكلم في هذه الطريقة أن الحراس قد لا يفهمون " He began, his voice coming out hoarse and with a bit of a lisp.
He tilted his head and popped his neck trying to find a modicum of comfort as his eyes darted about trying to collect as much information as possible.
He began to absent-mindedly test his chains
Chains... what a strange notion.
The young-looking man stirred, his bare arms held tight by the manacles. As he awakes, his eyes are revealed to be filled with vibrant green. He groans as he tries to stretch. Perhaps the bruises tattoed all over his body are the reason for this. But that was not his most dramatic feature, no not at all.
The bright hair was what gave his heritage away. His hair was messed and dirtied, in some places matted with dried blood. But one could still see hints of vibrant colour beneath it, something more vibrant than pure human genetics could produce.
The twin green orbs darted around, trying to take in the world.
Then he heard him. The other one, the hissing one. He spoke words that the other understood.
"Svaklar tira wux yor hesi ooble?"
The male slowly pulled himself upwards as he spoke, then pulled against the constraints that held him. For that single moment, he pushed with all of his might...
The Cloaked One closes his eyes for a few seconds, then opens them and looks at Vincent. He repeats the process and looks at Vitra.
Vincent narrowed his eyes a bit and stared at the beast of a man a bit confused by his wording...This man doesn't look like a dragon, it seems odd someone would claim their language as their own people's tongue
He shook the thoughts out of his head before his tongue flicked a bit and he spoke again. "العديد من الشياطين تعلم اللسان التنين." he said leaving his words ominous and a bit cryptic.
Vincent's eyes closed for a moment, mostly to hide the shock of someone speaking to him inside his head. Telepathy....not many races or learned people that I know can pull that one off. He opened his eyes again before flicking them over every person till he saw the quiet man locking eye contact with the other man. He took a while to focus his eyes on the man before he hissed angrily at the man. An Aasimar....he's one of those privileged bastards. He thought reflexively before he raised a horned brow out of curiosity
"To what do I owe the pleasure of the company of a blessed one? Sent here to spy on us, make sure we don't try anything?" He said. The word pleasure dripping of vemon and spite. It wasn't long before he managed to locate the fresh scarring of his hand. "Delightful, perhaps there are some damned ones counted among you kind....tell me what brought you here?" he asked.
He sat there, hands hung up above him, eyes closed with a small smirk on his face. His hair faded from black to white near the end, and spiked straight up. Even though he had been here a few days, it did not look like he even needed to shave.
'Wonder if they've cleaned up the church yet.' He had left it in quiet a wonderful state, with the blood of the clergy covering the floor and walls. That had been his best conversion yet! To bad Mitra's Paladins were so efficient. They had arrived sooner than he had thought. Luckily he had been able to dismiss Deirdre when they had arrived, it was no use fighting at that point. He had been mid-prayer to his lady.
Still, even caught, it had been worth it. Who else could say they took down a Mitran Church from the inside! The Paladins hadn't even mentioned the other churches he had taken down as well. Perhaps that was because as long as the weren't Mitran churches it didn't mater. They had still charged him, he was a forger, a heretic, a blasphemer, and a murder. Seems not only did they not take well to someone pretending to be one of their own, let alone leading others to their death. Seems it upset them so much they MADE him wash the blood off. Something about disgraceful to the dead.
Cracking a silver eye, he glanced at the brand burned into his bicep, and smiled before letting out a chuckle. Being forsaken just meant he was on the right path. His lady would be pleased. To escape, was to continue her work, but death meant he was to be welcomed to her waiting arms.
Opening his eyes fully he looked at the others. 'Quite the collection they've got here.'
He took a better look around him, seeing what he could spot and the guards current locations and perhaps something he could use later.
The Cloaked One concentrates for a few seconds.
"What does sythr care about my speech?"
Vritra growls out at the man as he presses against his bindings, still unwilling to let up his pressure.
For a moment, the bright green eyes dart over to the snake, and stops conversing with him and the other. After all, what use was talk when these bars still held?
Gurwen is woken by some arguing. "Uggh, are you serious? Why does my head hur-- Oh. Right. Damn that vile pompous king!" She opens her eyes and raises her head, hitting her arms with her long glorious ears. Her black hair falls down her face and revivals a beautiful elven woman.
"ما أنت البلهاء النبح على شيء؟ على محمل الجد! كنت سليمة مثل الكلاب في قفص، وليس ان كنت لا. أوه، الآلهة أعلاه! لماذا لعن لي مع هذا بصوت عال، والحمقى الجهلة!"
"What ARE you idiots yipping on about? Seriously! You sound like dogs in a cage, not that you aren't. Oh, gods above! Why have you cursed me with such loud, ignorant fools!"
The Cloaked One concentrates for a moment, then locks eyes with Gurwen.
Vincent watched as one of the others began to stir, he watched him curiously as he did the others. The first reaction most seemed to have was to look around carefully. The man had appeared human to him at first till he opened his eyes. He saw yet another with signs of being blessed born. Out of all the cells I could land in, I am stuck with no one but two of those blasted flightless harpies.
He held his tongue this time and looked over the guy carefully before noting once again the scarred sign of a forsaken. Before shaking his head and began speaking in his own tongue. "Verdammt, diese höllischen Engel, ich kann nicht einmal von ihnen in der Hölle bekommen"
Jaq turned to look better at the snake-like tiefling and smiled, before responding in kind. "बस मैं सही मेरे काम किया है इसका मतलब है."
Vincent's eyes snap over to the elven maidens form. His maw produced a sort of half smile as he listened to her speak. At least she has a bit of fire in her he thought shaking his head a bit.
"لطيفة جدا منكم للانضمام إلى أرض الأحياء، وآمل أن يبدو قليلا أكثر مثل الأفعى ثم كلب" he said with a hiss.
Veldrin sat quietly, listening to his fellow prisoners' discussion. They sure did seem to be an interesting bunch. His eyes, black with red pinpoints, studies them each in turn. "Hmm, a pair of Heaven-blessed, a fiend-touched, an elven lass, and some sort of I'm not even sure what. Quite the cast of characters" He muses silently.
"It would seem Mistress Zura has seen fit to bless me with a rather eclectic group of fellow prisoners."
When the silver eyed man spoke his native tongue his eyes widened a bit in shock and his maw opened a bit as if to say something back but only silence came from him. I know my tongue isnt exactly the most illusive language but I hadn't expected an Aasimar to speak it... he shook his head and composed himself.
He looked around the room at the other convicts "Alright....well I for one do not feel like dying in three days,if I had my formulae book in hand I am sure I would whip up something to get us out of here...but seeing as they left me in just this filth. I am afraid I am lacking in means...any thoughts on how to get outta here?" He asked careful to be quite enough that any guards moving about outside wouldnt be able to understand him.
She gets a confused look on her face. "My thoughts aren't in common... Oh this guy.." She looks directly into his eyes, a little smirk on her face.
"সম্পর্কে আরো কিছু সহজ কথা বলতে দিন. আমি আপনাকে আপনার নিজের জিহ্বা বুঝতে নিশ্চিত!"
She laughs at the tiefling.
"بالتأكيد، كنت تبدو وكأنها واحدة أيضا. ما حفرة الجحيم هل الزحف للخروج من وسيم؟"
The Cloaked One shakes his head slightly at the Elf maiden's mocking words.
After a short pause, he speaks quietly to no one in particular. His voice is low and harsh - as if it hasn't been used for a long time. "If I am loosed from these chains, I need nothing to sow destruction. What skills do you have? We will need to work together - at least temporarily - if we wish to escape these walls."
She scrunches her nose at the black eyes Aasimar. "তার সত্যিকারের, এবং আপনি আমাকে কিছুই জানি, আমার প্রতি শান্তি অভিশাপ না থাকলে তার উদ্ধত ভাব না!"
After her beautifully sounding insult, she looks around. Reluctantly she speaks in common. "I wouldn't mind getting out of here. I hear being drawn and quartered isn't a very pleasant experience. I also still have things to attend to..." She shakes her chains a bit, frustrated.
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Vincent chuckled a bit as it seemed the Elf at least had a sense of humor. He thought for a moment on what she asked. "في الأصل، وأود أن أقول أمي وقح. معظم السبب في ذلك الحفرة، حسنا ربما جهنم الذي أدليت به للخروج من المنزل من خط بلدي الأسرة "
He smiled a lipless teeth filled smile. " My skills, well...I am quite the demolitionist and handy with a bow, my hobbies include also torture as well as the opposite as well. Oh and I like long walks on the beach on a moon lit night " He said, as he couldn't help himself to make a joke out of it by the end.
"Death is my specialty. Or rather, undeath" The Drow says simply.
Why did these others prattle on so?
Vritra was silent and stared at the others, shaking his head as he realized just how trapped he was.
"You really think that davofi would let us fight our way out?"
The Suli male was tempted to use his full strength to force himself out, but the manacles seemed almost impossible to break. If he had known any, Vritra might have cursed to make himself feel better; but he knew none in any language.
"The davofi will kraksdao me for hurting one who hurt me. What makes you think that they would have opportunity?"
He glanced at the black-eyed creature, the unnatural orbs a violent contrast with his green ones. Tilting his head, he slowly thought. Vutha saravic hear this?
Kraksdao - Murder
Vutha saravic - Black eyes
The Cloaked One stares back at the green-eyed man, wondering why the sudden interest.
Jaq flashed a toothy smile when he caught the tiefling off-guard. He loved catching people off guard.
"Out of these chains, I could call us some assistance. And I'm pretty handy with a candlestick too." He chuckled, remembering the time at that one mansion in the library. Good times.
"So you can't hear simethoti"
The Suli shook his head, trying to clear it of some debris. He didn't really succeed in much aside from a small cloud of dust forming. The conversation had turned to a more violent angle, and in some ways Vritra was surprised by what his fellow prisoners had done. But then again, the davofi hated anything that wasn't there version of purity. So why else would these individuals be allowed to live even for a while? It seemed a mistake.
Three days could be a possibility for escape.
Vritra roared loudly as he swung his arms down with a violence that few had seen from him. Perhaps this time the chains would break! And then they could flee from this place, take weapons and destroy the davofi that had put them here and be victorious!
Vritra's blood stirred as the thirst for destruction increased, but his true power was not revealed to the other prisoners. After all, they would learn soon enough what he was capable of should these chains break.
The Cloaked One catches the Suli's eye and shakes his head slightly.
Jaq just listened as the others rattled on, he'd have to pick that language up at some point. He didn't care to stay in the dark. But for now, seems that a plan to get out was in motion.
'Seems My Lady is offering me a chance to continue her work.'
The thought brought a big smirking smile to his face, his eyes glinting.
Gurwen Looks around deciding it is probably best to disclose her abilities.
"I know a little magic, and I am good with a bow, just not with people... They all seem to die around me. Pity..."
Vincent shook his head a bit at where the conversation was going. While they were all quite capable when they weren't shackled it seemed everyone was kind of stuck at present. He flicked his tongue a bit and hissed angrily at the situation. He furrowed his brow and began to think very hard on the subject. Absent-mindely he began to scratch his head with his tail. It took him a while before he realised his tail was unbound and he immediately slapped himself in the face.
"Oh for the love of...." he growled at himself before his tail preened off a acale and he began to try and pick the lock with his scale.
"It sad that you cannot."
Vritra breathed out as he heard the Cloaked One speak again. Growling for a moment, the Suli's green orbs darted around the room again. The other prisoners didn't seem all that interesting to him, but then again they also were here for something. Whether or not they wanted to purely for revenge against the davofi or something more, it could be useful to have them around. At least, that's what he perhaps thought about.
If you asked him, it would be a lot more simplistic.
And more than a bit angry.
"Here's an idea. How about we take a page out of Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes book? He likes cooperation, so why don't we play nice. Those mindlessly loyal sheep will never see it coming. Or, toss them something bright and shiny, that works too. They like shiny. Easily distracted by it."
He flashed the others a smile. Really it was better to catch the fish off-guard than alert them. He could easily catch them with a nice wide net that way, all schooled up together. Delicious, delicious fish. They would be tasty offerings to his Lady.
The Cloaked One glances at the other Aasimar.
Looking over towards his fellow Aasimar, the smile never dropped from Jaq's face. "Or it may be the solution. Work together to get free. Combine our strength and skills."
Looking at the others he seemed to think for a moment. "Perhaps we should start with names. Seeing as we are to be spending some lovely bonding time together. Can't ask you all to play nice if I have to just point and say you. I'm Jaq." It seemed as if a grin was a normal feature of his face, since he seemed to be wearing a version of one since he had awoken.
"Vritra." The Suli spoke out with gravelly voice, clenching and unclenching his fists. The strange man would have had a better time convincing Vritra that cooperation would be a good plan if he secretly possessed some way to free himself. But then again, maybe he'd managed to sneak some method of escape in?
But then why?
"You're annoying." Vritra growled out, staring at the seemingly eternal grin. Annoying? Yes. Would it stop him from "cooperating?" No.
Gurwen laughed at Vritra's comment. "Of to a grand old start making friends there Jaq!" She laughs for a bit longer and then settles down. "I'm Gurwen." She looks around expectant of everyone else.