Welcome to your cell. Make yourself as comfortable as you can because in three days time your life will be over.
dot <-- which appears more like a blotch of mold slowly spreading across the thread
Cast grease, escape from shackels, wait on a guard with keys, grow claws, kill guard, escape, seduce princess, kill king, set up Asmodues as supreme deity, rule over Talingaurde with princess as new my queen, arcane and physical might crushing everyone who stands in the way!
Next campaign!
I mean.... dot.....
'Dots' the wall with his forehead in frustration. His jailors have been warned of his lies and martial training and plan on making a showy example of one who would threaten he status quo.
Aevry grunts through his gag and struggles with his straightjacket as his thoughts turn to his family and his beloved elder sister who he may be joining in he afterlife.
DevonRex/Aevry - jump the the Discussion thread, also referred to as the OOC (Out Of Character) thread. GM Blood has a pile of information on formatting and stuff. Standard methods used by most players on the Paizo boards - Bold for speech, Italics for internal thoughts, for out of character comments, although most ooc comments should be made on the OOC thread.
If you are wondering how to format stuff, click the "Show" button below this text entry box and it has all the shortcuts - [b] . . . [/b.] for bold, but without the ".", etc.
Anyway, we should all be checked in and chatting on the OOC thread, so I will move any other comments and discussions over there until GM Blood gets the campaign intro up.
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 hooded while being escorted through the prison. After the hood was pulled off, you were held down by rough hands and branded upon the arm with a runic F by Sergeant Blackerly. 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.
You are in the back of a wagon inside a cage, with a hood over your head and your mouth gagged. Your hands and feet are bound in iron shackles and attached to the wagon. You know there are others with you but know nothing of them save there are other criminals and some guards. A chill winds whips around your body and you note you must be near a body of water.
The wagon stops for a moment, and you hear one of the men guarding you speak to another, though the words themselves escape you. The sound of an opening gate can be heard, then the wagon moves forward, taking you to what can only be your home for the next three days, Branderscar Prison.
The wagon stops for a moment, and you hear one of the men guarding you speak to another, though the words themselves escape you. The sound of an opening gate can be heard, then the wagon moves forward, taking you to what can only be your home for the next three days, Branderscar Prison.
The wagon stops just a short distance in, the cage heard to be unlocked. The guard can be heard speaking, "Bunch of bloody criminals", "They'll get what's coming to 'em", "Keep an eye on 'em". You also hear dogs growling. The cage unlocked, rough hands come in and drag the four of you out, sharp tips that can only be swords prodding you onwards.
The six march single file, blind and shackled, the only guide the taunts of the guards, as you are lead into what must be a building. Rounding a corner, you feel an opressive heat wash over you as a rough voice calls out, "It would seem we have some new guests. The first thing we do here is your initiation." Several of the guads start to chuckle at his statement.
Your hoods come off and you see 3 other gagged prisoners lined up in a row with you, a guard standing behind each of you with a sword at the ready and a hood in their other hand. Another pair of guards stand in front of you as well as a fat well-dressed sergeant. The warden stands by the door, with a iron brand in his hand.
The older man speaks with little passion and maybe annoyance, "Welcome to Branderscar prison, your home for the next couple of days. I am Warden Richter. You are now Forsaken, forever known to be enemies of Talingarde. Sergeant Blackerly you may do the honors." With that the warden lets go of the brand and he floats it over to the sergeant.
As the warden steps out of the room, the sergeant places the brand into a small cauldron filled with coals. A sneer comes over his face as he paces back and forth in front of you. He then pulls out a scroll and scans it then hands it to one of the guards and pulls out the brand, now red-hot.
He walks over to the first prisoner, a man that looks human, but something about him is different. A guard grabs his left hand, "Aevry Balindor. Pretending to be one of the faithful while secretly a blasphemer planning the deaths of others will not only cost you your life, but your soul. Good riddence I say." With that he plunges the brand onto Aevry's left forarm leaving a nasty brand.
He and the guard steps to the left to a human man, "Daimon Pyre, consorting with the dark powers. You reap what you sow boy. Well since you like the fiery creatures so much, here is a little extra for you!" And with that he brands Daimon's forearm leaving it on for a few extra seconds.
Next his steps over to a pale woman, "And here is Rytara Sumpfkrot, poisoned her whole village without a care in the world. Sir Balin said you just sat there waiting for him. Freak!" He quickly brings down the brand, staring into the woman's eyes, seeming to enjoy the woman's pain a little more.
Last he steps over to the final woman with long black hair, "And last we have Tearyn Sesilina. Crying some sob story about her sister and her boyfriend. So you tried to burn them", Blackerly moves her hair to look at the burn scar, "Looks like this branding will be like meeting an old friend once again." With that the brand comes down on her arm forever marking her with a burn scar once again.
"Take this lot away." The four of you are re-hooded and taken away, then led up a flight of stairs. You can hear the sound of a cell opening, where the four of you are led inside and locked up. Your hands are attached to the wall behind you, and a chain on one wall is looped through your ankles, binding the four of you together. You are able to sit. When all are secured, your masks and gags are removed. As your eyes adjust, you see the four of you are in a cell, though there is a strange, very large doorway off to the right.
Several guards stand outside the cell, one of them the man who performed the branding. "My name is Seargent Tomas Blackerly. I'm in charge of these soldiers here, and I plan to make your next three days miserable." With that he turns and leaves the cell, only two guards left by the far doorway.
Daimon shakes his head and gathers his senses. He looks around the cell and sees his fellow prisoners.
They should have killed me when they had the chance instead of in some grand spectacle. They will regret this. At least I'm not alone, these people look capable.... but can they be trusted?
Any of you speak Infernal?
How about the Draconic language?
As the seargent walked away Daimon called out to Blackerly-
"What is it you want Thomas? Are you sure it is Mitra you really seek to follow? One who delights in the pain he causes to others."
Daimon lets out a small laugh, he can't help it. Even it causes him some harm it can't be much worse than he already has suffered.
Rytara takes the brand without flinching.
What is pain but the world calling to be reduced to its base form that it may rise once again.
Once seated, the tough, if slightly emaciated, woman looks around at her cellmates for the next few days.
Her eyes rise in surprise when she hears the man speak in the tongue of the damned.
Interesting, clearly he is not here because of a crime of passion.
She then looks at the others attempting to discern what they might have done.
When the man shouts out to Blackerly, she smiles and imagines the consequences.
Yes, call out the jailer, I am sure that will get you a good beating.
Aevry glances around at the humans he is chained with and out to the guards.
"Forsaken, like your high and mighty nobles have left you here as well. You toil and do their dirty work, for what? A few paltry coins and no freedom of your own. Not too long ago you could pray to who you like and the laws protected the rights of those strong enough to seek their own path."
Foolish mayflies, the lot of them. But here is at least one with the wisdom to study those of a longer life. Let's see if any of my brethern are bound with me.
The aasimar turns his gaze back to his fellow prisoners and considers a moment before speaking carefully lest their jailers speak the same tongues.
Daimon turns toward Aevry and simply nods once.
Now him I think I can work with
The farm girl listens as yet another man speaks boldly.
It will be interesting what this group does. That is now two who speak in the tongue of the First.
Rytara then turn and looks toward the other woman in the cell.
What secrets does that one hold I wonder?
As Blackerly leaves he tells a guard, "We can give him a beating later, I have some business I need to take care of first." He looks back at Daimon with a sneer.
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When the branding-iron burned her flesh Tearyn cried out in pain, tears flowing down her cheeks. As she was dragged back to her cell she sobbed openly, but as soon as Blackerly left the cell the sobs became chokes... then a giggle.
She mumbles between her gasping laughter: "No... no... It is not I who should despair, but them. The Dark Prince has touched me, embraced me, filled me with his essence. He would not do so if it were all to end here."
Her laugh turns into a cackle for a moment and she throws her head back, her hair falling away from her face and revealing to her cell-mates the blazoned, inverted pentagram burned into her face with fresh, blood-red scars.
Upon hearing the others speaking, she looks over as if only now made aware of companions. She seems confused by the words, uncomprehending, but her giggling stops as she says in common, "We are not yet abandoned, they shall still suffer."
Having now heard all the other speak, the rugged looking girl who appears to have spent many days working on the land and has been sitting with her back straight as though in mock defiance of the attempts to break her, finally speaks.
It will all be destroyed. This cell, this prison, this land. It rose from the Abyss and it shall be destroyed under a pall of blight that it may rise again. This land of well wishers and do gooders, it is all corrupt at its soul. A slow creeping blight that shall overwhelm the land. It dwells deep within the soul of all, but when stoked, it can be brought forth such that neighbors shall distrust neighbors, merchants shall hide behind locked doors fearing for their lives. And nobles shall take arms against their brethren. Into this land of distrust, the First shall come and bring control, he shall bring a rule of law that controls all unlike the mockery of laws the have brought us here.
The girl pauses for a moment and then spits on the ground:
Of course I poisoned the town, they allowed the killer of my mother to walk free. They allowed the killers of my mentor to walk free. They did not demand justice, so I gave them nature's justice. And eye for an eye. Kill or be killed.
Then the girl returns to her upright posture and again begins to look around at those in the room with her, waiting to see how they react.
Daimon stretches as best he can.
Damn these shackles! I'm sure I could escape them but I only get one chance and the shackles are only the first problem to be overcome. I need to make it count and I may need all the help I can get.
Daimon talks quietly -
"I'd rather rule the land then destroy it completely. Getting vengeance for your family is only right and nobles killing nobles is pleasent enough. However having them join our Lord gives him a greater pleasure."
Trying to kill a whole village was messy. Too high profile, no end game. It could probably could have been handled better but what's done is done and more pressing concerns confront me now. There seems to be a touch of insanity in this one. She must be watched but if guided could be a useful tool.
"Tell you what, lets make getting out of here a priority. The future is yet unwritten and until we get out of here nothing will be blighted or ruled over"
Rytara looks over at the man.
But how do you get them to turn? You must stoke the darkness with, then the corruption, like the blight it is, will grow. Once it has consumed the person, they will turn to the Dark Lord. For only in him can they find salvation, only from him can they find the solace and support to undertake the actions that their now dark souls need.
She pauses for a moment before continuing:
But one must take care, for darkness unchecked consumes all. Then one takes the road of chaos. Chaos destroys all and that is not what the First desires. For him, the darkness is a fuel, a power. It is a tool to assist, not an insanity that consumes all.
Maybe an hour after you were left in your cell, the door to the cells open, and in strides Seargent Blackerly. He looks perturbed as he walks up to the cell door, 6 guards in tow.
“You there! That’s the scum! Get him unshackled. If any of you makes trouble, they’ll earn a thrashing! Or worse." He turns to Daimon, "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 door to the cell is opened and the guards enter, two retrieving Daimon while the other four watch the rest of you for trouble.
A sunken look in his eyes, a slight jerk in his motions. It's clear that Blackerly is under the influence of some kind of enchantment.
Who the hell... not that I am complaining, an opportunity around every corner.
"Fine ladies are always welcome" Daimon waits to be unshackled.
Six guards... too many
"Lead on man. What are we waiting for!"
Sense Motive:
Interesting. The bully becomes a puppet.
As the doors open out of the cell block, you see a small guard room and a landing for stairs leading to the first floor. It is lit by a sconce holding a torch. There are two doors – one leading to the cell block and the other connecting to the interrogation room Otherwise, this chamber is plain with little furnishings save for a small table and two chairs. There is also a large fireplace to the south that looks unused, but as you pass it you feel some warmth coming from that direction as well as the smell of bread.
The room they take you has some blood stains on it as well as the faint smell of burning flesh but other than a table and chairs is featureless.In the room is a hauntingly beautiful woman with platinum blond hair and vibrant and unearthly green eyes. “Oh, dearest,” proclaims the unfamiliar woman. “I’m so relieved you’re alive!” She quickly turns to Tomas Blackerly. “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.”
As soon as the guards leave, the woman's 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.
“Something to remember me by, dearest.”
This woman has some form of power over Sergeant Blackerly.
"I never actually had any doubts of my escape although I wouldn't mind some assistance. Getting everyone in my cell out may be troublesome though. I don't suppose you could do something about the guards or prehaps have a key hidden somewhere on you?"
After the exchange Daimon wishes Tiadora farewell.
Always the opportunist Daimon casts Detect Magic assuming guards aren't back yet. Daimon scans the veil for traces of an aura then waits for the guards to take him back, doing a final scan on the guards as they approach, trying to sense what magic might be about them.
"So good of you to recognize it, dear." she says sarcastically, "I have every faith you can come up with something to get out of your cell"
Tiadora only smiles as 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 the 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.” She kisses him and the cheek and whisper something in his ear.
“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 you one last time and she briefly gives you a wicked smile.
“Three days,” telepathically echoes in Daimon's mind. “Don’t disappoint me, dearest”. It takes but a moment to realize the words appeared in your mind in the Infernal tongue. The visitation concluded, they take you back to your cell by a cadre of guards and shackled once more.
The item is magical and when you looked at it , what the veil does comes to your mind, remove a patch from the veil and it turns into an item.
2 Daggers
A lantern
A coil of rope
A small sack with an arcane rune on it
A set of thieves tools
A window
A stack of gold
A vials marked with a draconic rune for life
A symbol of Asmodeus
Daimon is brought back to the cells and chained back to the wall, Blackerly in the lead, "Now you all don't be thinking nothing. I don't think the rest of you will get the fortune of such a visitor. Not that it'll matter in three days." The guards all laugh as they begin to leave the room, discussion of tonight's poker game ensuing. "Don't worry, I happened to acquire a new bottle of brandy for tonight. And your money will help pay for it." Blackerly says to one of the guards.
As Blackerly gets to the two guards by the door, he says
Blackerly tells the guards that they can just watch in the guard room as the new prisoners aren't any threat to break loose and the ogre has been quiet since the last beating. Just do a patrol every other hour.
The two guards follow Blackerly outside the door leaving you in relative privacy.
Perception:
With the commotion of the human being returned to the cell, Rytara is momentarily distracted and does not pay attention to what is going on about the room.
When the guards are gone, Rytara looks at Daimon.
So, what did you "visitor" wish to say? She must have been stunning as the Sergeant seemed to be under quite a spell.
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Tearyn grins coldly, her focus remaining intact as she whispers to her cellmates, "Looks like the guards will be drinking brandy tonight, and the Sergeant just told the other that they can just watch in the guard room as the new prisoners aren't any threat to break loose and they should just do a patrol every other hour. Also mentioned something about an oger being quiet."
Tearyn pauses as if considering. Alone, I may have a chance but not a good one... together if they are truly underestimating us we could have a real shot at freedom... and vengeance.
"It seems we were all brought together to share the same fate. I say that we take our fates in our collective hands and work to get free of this place. They appear to think we are not a threat... we should work together to teach them otherwise."
Believing that no guard will be returning for a while, Tearyn begins to try to work herself free from her shackles.
"It was a friend and certainly not who she appears to be"
Daimon watches Tearyn struggle then calms himself. He casts grease to aid in trying to get free.
I assume you hid it upon yourself like up a sleeve and you can remove a patch while chained
Rytara rolls her eyes at Daimon's response. She then whispers just loud enough to be heard: A Friend? Considering that the sergeant had an alien look in his eyes and was moving like a robot, I would say a "friend" with the ability to control the fat slob.
She then looks to the others:
It is clear from your earlier discussions that you all are followers of the Dark Lord, or at least pay him homage.
Rytara licks her lips while thinking for a moment:
The question then is, if we are able to release ourselves from these bindings, what skills do each of you possess that would enable use to escape from this cell, get past the guards, and out of a fortress perched perilously above the waves of the sea?
"Spellcasting and claws. I don't need weapons to be deadly. Asmodeus has also gifted me with the powers of his unholy knights - the powers of an antipaladin.
"Additionally I have other tricks up my sleeve. No litteraly, it's up my sleeve. My 'friend' gave us a Veil of Many Things storing things such as rope, lantern, daggers, a symbol of Asmodeus, what I believe to be a spell component pouch - silly wizards. Oh and prehaps most imporantly to our present situation - some thieve tools."
"Not to mention a window. I don't know why there is a window, but it's there. Fear me... for I can pull out of my fake tear stained veil... a window."
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Tearyn looks at Rytara nodding, the intense gleam in her eye showing no signs of her earlier madness.
"For one, I can invoke the Dark Prince's power using his mark upon me, including several invocations of fire to burn the guards or drain the living energies from them. With some sort of tool I could pick these locks without issues, and if free could likely scout out our surroundings without detection. What can you do for our cause Rytara Sumpfkrot?"
Looking to Daimon she Tearyn adds "And aside from being coy about visitors while we all face execution, what do you bring to the table?"
Rytara looks back at Tearyn:
I am a simple person, but I am usually quite perceptive and able to read others quite well. As I mentioned, the Sergeant's strange behavior was something that stood out as odd to me.
I am also gifted some powers over nature and some profane power from the Dark Lord's lieutenant, Vois, the Lord of Swamps and Pollution. I can heal some and can cause vision blocking mist to appear, or vines to spring from the ground to disable and slow another.
Rytara pauses again for a moment before continuing.
I can also stare another into unconsciousness. There is no guaranty that I will succeed, but it is a fun skill when one offends me.
Rytara then looks at the other quiet man. And yourself? Do you have any skills that might benefit us if we get free of the cell?
To Tearyn "Besides strength, charm and arcane magic? How about the very tools you said you need"
Daimon rips off the pouch that contains the tools, causing them to appear. "Take them and work quickly and quietly. If we can escape I know of a place not far off that should be safe."
Rytara raises her eyebrows at Daimon's comment: I would be wary. The Sergeant may be a gambler and one who likes his brandy, however, I imagine that if any of us are found missing, it will not be for long. Hiding holes in a prison like this will be few. Once we get out, we will need to move quickly, and quietly, to assure that we do not alert the whole guard such that we would have dozens of swords and arrows behind us.
A deep but quiet voice comes from the strange cell on your right, "The woman speaks truly. You do not want to do anything rash until you have your escape plan well thought out, trust me."
At the other jail cell you see this creature. He looks like an Ogre although he has two small horns on his head. He appears to be injured by repeated severe beatings and maybe is drugged. He also has the Forsaken brand on his forearm.
Rytara looks over at the large ogre noticing his wounds.
I assume you sought to leave through brute force and found that to be less than successful?
What do you know of the guards? How many? What types of weapons they carry?
Rytara stops and thinks for a moment before raising her still manacled hand.
I am Rytara, druid of pestilence, pollution, swamps, and all that is corrupt and destructive in nature. How are you called great one?
"My name is Grumblejack, former bandit of the moors surrounding this place. The little ones who caught be stupidly kept me alive. The warden said it was until a grand occasion to publicly execute me arrives. I have a feeling the four of you could be that occasion."
"Broke out of a normal cell before and fought into the next room but didn't make it far. There are many guards and they rotate every 4 hours or so and they patrolled through here about every other hour to make sure everything was ok. You might want to practice re-attaching those manacles so it looks like they are still attached when they come strolling through or else it will be over for you."
"From what I noticed the guards have padded clubs to subdue a prisoner and longsword to permanently stop them. That warden can do spells, I have seen it" The ogre visibly shudders while talking about the warden.
"Help me get out of here and I'll help you fight! I also know the surrounding moors pretty good and can lead you through off the road for when we are chased and hunted."
Rytara smiles at the big ogre.
Well then, I suppose we shall have to take you with us. Your strength and knowledge of the moors will be invaluable. In return, we shall help you escape. Five working together are much stronger than one, even if the one is a great one such as yourself.
Knowledge: <-- +8 religion, +9 nature -- do I know what this monster is?
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Tearyn nods. "Grumblejack is right. We should wait until nightfall, and the brandy to be passed around before we try to escape. Let me help you all with the manacles, trying to make them seem attached shouldn't be too hard... By the way Daimon, what else did your friend slip you that we might use?"
Tearyn also tries to find three pebbles or small stones to hide about her person in the same manner.
The flame-haired man glances up at the other in the next cell.
What crime did they lock you up for?
Aevry nods and smiles as he see the manacles getting unlocked.
I may have a trick or two up my sleeve to help us evade persuit and remain hidden.
"Just the veil and directions to a safe place when we are out."
Daimon is slightly amused at the turn of events.
"First you are set to quietly sneaking, then agree to leave with a large ogrekin in a loincloth. Might as well paint a sign. Not that I mind, it's more my style anyway - welcome aboard..... You want a window?"
"What we need to know is the fastest way out of here. As near as I can tell there is the main enterance and this odd side room" Daimon waves his hand in the general direction. "Any idea of what is the better escape path?"
Rytara looks over at the ogre.
If you make a commotion, will they come and attempt to beat you until you are quiet? Or will they summon more help?
If there are only two guards, I would want them on your end of the cells. Then we can get behind them so that they can not run or call for help.
Rytara turns and gives a cold dark look at Daimon.
Stealth is of great importance, but first, we have two guards stationed down the hall. We will have to bypass them, and unless one of you can make them go to sleep or knows a way past them, the only way by them is through force of arms.
Daimon gets serious, all his previous humor now gone.
"Hide the tools. After the next patrol passes by we will make our move. It should give time for the wine to take effect and hopefully most of the guards are sleeping."
"If you want Grumblejack over there to be of any sort of help then lets not get him beat up any more than he already has yes? In fact once we get out of our cells if any of you have a little healing then prehaps you can spare some for him."
"Killing the guards here will be the first goal once we leave the cells. What we now need to decide, is immediately leave through the front or go into the side room."