New slaves constantly arrive in the dungeons of Hagegraf. No one who passes through the lands of the ruthless grey dwarves is safe from their might and they quickly find themselves just another prisoner, chained and locked away until the duergar find a place for them in the mines or the scriptoriums, laboring away for their new masters. The latest rabble of slaves has finally arrived, stripped of everything and thrown into the stone cellars to await the 'mercy' of the duergar.
Amidst the pleas for mercy and shuffling bodies, a half-drow sits with his legs crossed on the stone floor of the slave pen. His eyes are closed, and the palms of his hands rest peacefully on his knees, while he breaths slowly and deeply. "To calm one's body, you must calm you mind," he says quietly, his mouth barely moving. Stripped of his robes and wearing only slave's garb, he appears to be conspicuously absent of the injuries you might expect of a recently captured slave, although his body is hard and lean. "To calm one's body, you must calm your mind," he repeats in between breaths, either oblivious to or ignoring the chaos surrounding him.
Among the new slaves was a rather rambunctious goblin, actively struggling in his bonds until finally thrown into the cellar. He was spouting off quite a few threats in his broken Common, though the deep dwarves obviously paid the little green imp no mind. "Urf gonna make you know why Urf's name feared all over Golorian!" was one of the many things he said before those doors closed. "And you better not do anything to Urf's Itchy Butt, or you be sorry! There won't be anything left after Urf done with you!"
After he realized that there was no way the duergar were going to either listen or hear him, Urf let out a sigh before turning to his fellow slaves. Clearing his throat, he stepped up on some debris or a table, whatever was closest, to make himself taller. "Everyone listen to Urf!" he called out, even if it seemed no one was paying attention. "Urf is Urf Rotnose, big member of Cockatrice Order! That mean Urf got more glory than all here! If people want out of here, then you leave it to Urf and his Itchy Butt!"
It appeared that he had a bit more to say, but he eventually found the half-drow sitting by himself in the corner. This made Urf almost immediately dart for him, giving him some pokes on the side of the head. "Hey!" he yelled in the elf's ear. "You pay attention to Urf! Urf gonna have big plan to get out, save Itchy Butt, then beat up cave dwarf things!"
In the corner of the cell, a female ratfolk is curled up, huddled in her rags, eyes darting back and forth as she attempts to calm her thoughts. My clothes...they took my clothes, and...and my treasures! Mother's necklace, the coin, the necklace...all gone...what am I going to do without them?
Panic rises in Rissi as she watches the little goblin attempt to force the half-elf into action. Stay calm, stay calm...I never needed any magic to get out of a sticky situation when I was younger... Since no one's looking her way, Rissi takes a quick inventory of her own possessions.
The slaves all seem a bit... off-put by the excitable little goblin. A few look at him like he may be crazy. Not an uncommon state for the average goblin. The slaves a a motley collection, with a bit of just about every race. A group of half a dozen seem to have gathered together in one corner, mostly human though both a half-elf and a halfling seem to be with them. Against a wall a vaguely male figure who is very clearly undead is standing in silence, eyeing the entire group with hungry eyes. Even a few of the feared drow have found themselved victims of the slave trade. One man is talking in one corner with an olive skinned half-orc while another seems to be muttering to himself in a corner. Others of various races mill around the large, mostly empty room, either looking around in silent fear or whispering in small groups.
Xarann doesn't open his eyes as Urf speaks, but he does stop his chanting and breathing exercises. "Do as you will, little goblin," he says, his body still relaxed. "To achieve perfection in battle is to become whole in mind and body; meditation allows me to center myself, to become one with the blade... if I had one, anyway." His hands tense up, but the half-drow breathes deeply again, and the tension relaxes. "The Light of the Dawnflower will guide me from this shadowed enclave, as it does all things; I must merely allow myself to see it."
What seems like a small guard approaches, the biggest drow you've ever seen appears to walk in the center. The slave rags hang from his waist as the drow did not bother to cover his upper body. Not only unusually tall but upon closer look, simply burly and big boned. All rippling muscle, it seems clear why the gray dwarves around him all have one hand on their weapon. Towards the front of the group one dwarf mumbles to the other.
"How in the nine hells does he keep getting out. Fine, he comes back. But still how does he do it. Wouldn't it be better to keep him in solitary?"
The gates open and the dwarves move aside, none get close to the monstrous sized drow. He walks in without need to be shoved or prodded. Not that the dwarves relaxed, they spoke to the guards and left.
Tlugos regretted returning, it had taken no small effort to ferret out the secrets of his guards. He had traded them for an opportunity to leave the confines of his cage after nearly killing that fool who insulted him when he first arrived. They had demanded his word to return, so he did. Still stretching his legs and eating something besides the slave rations was it's own reward. Sadly they did not seem to trust his silence, at least not so close. Now he was back in the pens, how disappointing. He noticed new arrivals, perhaps he was the only one left from the previous stock. Twice unlucky, he had missed the auction it seemed. No matter, their would be another.
He took notice of everyone even as he found his own little spot to claim. He waited, sooner or later someone would seek to challenge him. Even outside a city of dwarves he towered over many, sadly few of the kin he had known in his life but most others. Ever seeking to prove themselves they came, knowing what he was or not. It mattered little to him, he rather enjoyed the fights. Even if he lost, as he did at times, their was something to learn and grow stronger for.
Dark eyes scan the crowd, darting from one figure to the next as the slight, dark skinned woman shifts through the mass of her fellow slaves. Her gaze is less fearful than most of the other newcomers, more cautious and calculating as she examines the group of people around her.
She held no delusions that this would be a kind or forgiving place. Already some were looking at the rest of the crowd like they’d just found their next meal. Melaina is determined not to be so easily picked off. So she wanders the room, sizing up potential enemies and allies alike, if you could have such a thing in a place like this. On occasion she approaches a small group and shares a few quiet words, but she keeps her distance from the more imposing and clearly hostile figures, not seeking any trouble just yet. Though a more threatening figure than herself could certainly be a valuable asset in the future…
Finding nothing, Rissi's heart sinks, but she perks up slightly when she hears Xarann's comment from several feet away. She darts over to him, a black shadow sliding quickly across the floor.
"E-excuse me," she stammers to him, quietly. "I'm sorry, it's just...it's good to hear someone mention the Dawnflower. I'd not thought to find any of her adherents here below the earth. Are you originally a surface-dweller like myself?"
Even as she chats, she keeps one slightly self-conscious eye on the ghoul in the corner.
Also among the new slaves is a striking drow female with bluish skin and hair like spider's silk. Perfectly comfortable nude, she forgoes the dirty rags offered by her captors.
I wonder if any of these lowly pieces of filth will be useful to me in my escape.
She surveys those present, obviously passing her judgement. She almost seems to smile at the little goblin's antics, but that turns immediately to a look of disgust when she hears the thinblood male mention Sarenrae. She takes special interest when the duergar return with the large male.
That one seems as though he's waiting for a good opportunity.
The goblin clearly had no idea what the half-drow was talking about, his face scrunching up as he tried to think about what all of that could mean. "This no time to be thinking about flowers!" was just about the only thing he could think of to respond with. "Flowers don't even grow down here, Urf pretty sure! We need just think of way to get out of here! Urf not gonna be slave again!"
Shortly after that, the ratfolk came up and spoke more about this Dawnflower. "What with everyone worried about flowers?!" Urf hissed, shaking his head and walking off, obviously rather irritated. He looked around the rest of the pit, not noticing too many others that looked as capable as he, himself, was. That was until he noticed the big, burly drow-looking tiefling, and his eyes lit up as he rubbed his hands together.
"Now here someone that can help with escape!" Urf said with glee as he looked up to him. One thing was for certain, though; the man was much too tall. There was probably call to fix that later, or so the goblin thought. "You may make for good underling to Urf. You be part of the plan!"
Without waiting for the burly man to speak, he continued to look around for more able-bodied people. He spotted the dark-skinned woman walking around, attempting to converse with the others, but she was much too skinny to be of use for the goblin; there was no way she could do anything important, or so he thought. One more scan, and he saw the nude drow, and he stopped for about a minute. Part of him was disgusted to see the nude form of anything but a goblin, but at the same time, it was sort of alluring. Shaking his head after the minute, he looked away and grunted, continuing his patrol for helpful escapees.
As the annoying little goblin came up and gibbered some nonsense. His only thought was one maybe two bites and he would be rid of the pest. Then again goblins tasted as horrible as they looked. He would have to weigh which was more distasteful, the cretin's continued existence or the after taste.
Spotting a naked drow female his only thought was how long until the wretches ganged up on her. Or how long it would take the dwarves to come in and break it up, no doubt a fresh sex slave was worth more then a used one. For his part he was not interested, such things were best behind closed doors with fine food and drink. Rutting in the filth for an audience was far to uncivilized for him to even consider. Perhaps when the dwarves came in he could take advantage, at least join in the fighting if their was some to be had.
It's difficult to tell how much time has passed in the featureless room, but it can't be that long before a squad of duergar arrive and begin to collect slaves. They select about half a dozen, give or take, and lead them away in silence. Anyone who resists quickly finds themself on the receiving end of a brutal blow from one of the grey dwarves hammers or bludgeons before they're dragged out by force. The room empties surprisingly quickly as the duergar come and go, taking the slaves out with them. The grey dwarves seem to get a bit more picky as the number of slaves in the room drops, picking slaves with similar traits and taking them away together.
Rissi blinks at the goblin's visceral reaction to the idea of flowers--to say nothing of his lack of understanding--but shrugs. The rest of the slaves in this pit mostly either aren't of interest, or frighten her slightly...and the naked drow's apparent ease is just plain unnerving. The ratfolk avoids looking in her direction.
As the other slaves disappear, though, it becomes more and more difficult to avoid looking at the drow--or at the other captives that she's been left with.
"I guess we're...guess we're sort of the oddballs here?" the ratfolk says quietly, looking around at the rest of the group. "They seem to be taking slaves that are similar and, well...I'm not even sure what all of you are..." She squeaks and buries her face in her paws as she realizes how rude that sounds. "Um...but my name is Rissi..."
By the time they're on the fourth group, the room is beginning to thin out a little bit. The duergar begin to take more care picking out slaves, taking them away in smaller groups.
"What about this one," one of the dwarves says, gesturing toward the excited goblin. "It claims it's a warrior."
Another slaver laughs. "Maybe it bites. Take him. If he's not just crazy, he'll probably be useful." Urf is picked up by the scruff of his neck and carried off by one of the dwarves. "Bring the troublemaker and the meditating one too. They should actually be decent in a fight." The dwarves go through the remaining slaves for a few moments. "The caller as well. She should be capable."
"What about that one?" the second duergar says, gesturing to the nude drow and rather openly leering at her.
The first duergar laughs. "She's one of their priestesses. She'll probably try to bite off your bits to offer to her lesser goddesses if you get too handsy." Never the less, Illiana is brought along as well. They go through the group again, but they don't seem to be very impressed with many of the others. "Take the rat. The sneaky ones are usually useful."
With that, our six intrepid heroes are half led, half carried away by a dozen grey dwarves in full plate and wielding heavy warhammers. They're brought to another chamber where an older looking duergar is sitting behind a table with a massive book on it. He pushes a small pair of glasses up on his nose and checks his book. "Good. Now, you will state your names and occupations for the record. One at a time."
Rissi shrieks slightly as she's snatched up by the duergar and hauled away by the slave traders. It's more from startlement than terror, though; she quickly regains her bearings. What on earth could they want a group like us for?
In front of the older duergar, she hunches over, eyes on the floor. I think they might skin thieves, or something like that... "I'm called Rissi Rawpaws, your worship," she says, swallowing hard. "A tinker by trade--I deal in junk and old curiosities!"
The duergar looks over his glasses at Rissi for a moment then he mutters something and a mark on his chest, what looks like a flame in a stone arch, lights for a moment. He glares at Rissi and gestures to one of the guards. The grey dwarf steps up strikes Rissi hard across the face. "Do not lie to me rat. You will answer my questions honestly and completely."
Tlugos gives a small smile at the gray dwarf comes near him. The gray dwarf stops short of touching him, glaring but only gesturing towards the exit. It was a pity, he would not have minded giving another lesson in respect. Sadly they learned and he moves on with the others.
When they arrive he waits for his turn. When it comes, his muscles seem to respond before him. Shifting under his skin as if preparing to spring. The nearest dwarf shifts slightly. Instead he speaks in a deep voice that sounds like it should be coming from something even bigger then him.
"Tlugos Ilmeefein, son of the scything wind master, clansmen of the flowing thunderstorm clan, and known as the obsidian dragon among the lands of my father."
He spoke all this in undercommon, he had not bothered to learn dwarven just yet.
"My occupation in your words, perhaps warrior would be the closest."
He did not know or care if they could understand the depth and difference of a monk. Most foolish or simple minded people thought they were anything from priest to weapon less fighters.
Rissi has only a brief moment of realization when the duergar casts his spell before the blow comes. Oh, shi--
She reels as the grey dwarf's meaty hand collides with her tiny frame, starbursts of pain exploding in front of her vision. As she shakes her head, recovering, she mutters, "My name I told you true...nngh...and I am a tinker, but also a thief. Grave-robber and scavenger, more like. These days, at least."
The old dwarf makes two notes in his book. "That's better. Next!"
When the duergar first came in to take out some prisoners, Urf was a little busy looking at the nude drow female again. It wasn't until they were starting to cart some people out that he noticed, and he had just a few moments to speak up before they were gone. "Hey, you take Urf to Itchy Butt before Urf make you regret it!" was what he yelled, before adding, "and get elf lady clothes! She naked, and that make Urf uncomfortable and slightly confused about...things!"
Then they left, and Urf started to pace about, definitely agitated. He was grumbling to himself in Goblin, not wanting the others in the pit to understand him.
The goblin seems to be paying less attention as the duergar keep gathering slaves, up until the fourth one where he was addressed. Snapped out of his funk, he got a small spark in his eyes when the duergar approached him. he raised his fists, imitating a martial pose he saw once in an exhibition match in a town he managed to not be run out of. "You no touch Urf!" he yelled, trying to sound intimidating, while bouncing back and forth on his feet. "You just gonna take Urf out of here and take Urf to Itchy Butt and--GAH!" He didn't get too far into his speech before he was grabbed by his neck, struggling to free himself from the grasp of the dwarf in vain.
The goblin was paying little attention when brought forth to the book keeper, constantly looking around for an escape route, as well as the potential place they were keeping Itchy Butt. Once addressed and told to state names and occupations, though, Urf snapped to, always loving to tell anyone who he was.
"Urf is Urf Rotnose!" he proudly proclaimed. "Urf big member of Cockatrice Order, and with Urf's mount Itchy Butt, glory is earned all over Golorian! Urf's name known in many villages as finder of things, ender of banditry, savior of kittens in trees! Dumb cave dwarves should know Urf's name, as all of Golorian should know of Urf and his fearsome Itchy Butt!"
"She was provided with clothing," one of the duergar says, shoving Urf out of his way as he picks out a human slave. "If she chose not to wear it, then we are not going to waste cloth on a slave. I suggest you complain to someone who cares."
Urf's struggles seem to only serve to amuse the dwarves as they carry him along to the new room. The old duergar looks at Urf with an almost bored expression. "Urf Rotnose, knight," he finally says. He looks over at one of the guards. "Go make sure his mount was taken alive. I imagine he's going to be significantly less capable if it perished." The heavily armed and armored dwarf grunts and disappears through a side door.
Melaina notes the groups being taken periodically being taken away, the crowd progressively thinning and making the room seem even larger, all things considered. And the selected groups were growing smaller, and notably stranger as the duergar picked through their catch. When she’s finally taken, she’s almost convinced that they’d made some kind of error. It was certainly an… interesting assortment. She notes the strange and rather… let’s say bold goblin being dragged along, as well as that massive drow man. In fact, they were taking a few drow, a male that she thought she’d seen in one of the corners with the little rat woman that they had also taken, and a woman who seemed to have abandoned the rags she’d been given entirely. Needless to say, she was much easier to identify.
Regardless, Melaina makes no protests as she’s taken away, determined to keep her expression as neutral as possible. All she could do was see where this would lead… Which as it turned out, was only a smaller room with another dwarf behind a table, at least for now.
The little rat woman, Rissi she called herself, spoke up, and was almost immediately beaten for it. Melaina notices the dwarf's actions, and easily recognizes the spell. It seems that for once, lying likely wasn’t going to do Melaina any favors.
“My name is Melaina Tyrrell.” She answers, seeing no reason to try to dodge any questions. “Sorceress, illusionist, shadow mage. I’ve done any number of tasks before.” Anything that kept her out of trouble, really; the young woman was used to adapting to different situations by now. Besides, she was relatively certain that problem child, troublemaker, and attempted escapee didn’t count as previous occupations.
Xarann, despite the fact that his body tenses as if ready to strike, allows the duergar to escort him from the cell without complaint. He opens his eyes, although you can tell he continues to mouth his mantra as his breathing remains cool and collected. As they push him forward, he watches the symbol glow with light; however, he seems too concentrated on his own musings to catch the spell.
"My name is Zarann Imbros; I am a guide."
As the duergar come and go again with various groups of slaves, Illiana sits in quiet contemplation. As the crowd continues to thin, she can't help but wonder if she's wasted an opportunity. Fewer slaves means less chaos. Ah well... another chance will present itself.
She looks up with disgust when the lecherous dwarves leer and comment on what she might do to their... manhoods. He's not wrong, she thinks with a sneer.
Then the group of prisoners is led to a new chamber where one of the little ashen creatures takes their names and occupations for their records. Illiana watches as the little rat attempts to lie only to be discovered by means of some spell by the looks of things though, which, she cannot guess.
After, the large drow male who seems to have some fiendish influence—a tiefling if Illiana had to guess. Next, Urf announces himself with such an air of self-importance that under different circumstances, she might decide to keep him as a pet. They want to give the little goblin his mount back? the drow priestess wonders as the next two prisoners state their information. What could they possibly want with us and how can I use this to my advantage?
Finally, they come to Illiana. She briefly considers a moment of defiance, but dismisses it as pointless. Though they wouldn't likely kill her as the duergar aren't ones to undervalue slaves, it wouldn't help her escape and that is what's important right now.
"I am Illiana Vahadarr, priestess of Nocticula," she declares with indifference.
"Mage... guide... priestess. Ah, I remember you being brought in. You caused us some trouble." He grunts and makes a few more quick notes in the book. "Hmmm, interesting bunch you've provided me with. But they might actually be capable of what we want. Take them to the armory by the arena. We'll see if they're capable enough or if we throw them all in the mines. Now get them out of my sight. I still have more slaves to catalog."
With that, the group is quickly rounded up by the guards and moved out of the room. They're led down another almost featureless stone corridor until they're brought to a large set of double doors. The guards pull the doors open and shove the party inside. The room is indeed an armory, and a rather impressive one. Racks of weapons and armor line the room with enough steel to equip dozens of men. "Equip yourselves quickly," one of the duergar commands. "One weapon and one armor set a piece and make it count. You won't like the consequences of making a disappointing show in the arena."
As one of the dwarves is fool enough to push him, he turns. The others around him seemed to have more wits as one elbows the offender while grasping his weapon as the others do. He notes the dwarf for later but lets it go for the moment. As they are brought before the armory and instructed he looks down on the commander.
"You took my weapons and armor, you lack such replacements here. Return them if you wish to see a glorious fight. My black sash with silver oni upon it and my onyx ring are the equivalent respectively."
His weapon was his body and wrapping himself in armor only made him a target. Why take a strike when it can be avoided or misdirected, even if you are forced to endure the armor only dulls your ki so you can not weaken the offenders and neutralize much of their attack. His weapon was strength and his armor was of the kind unfelt and unseen. Their pieces of beaten and forged metal would never reach such high requirements.
"You will not have anything I require, either," Xarann says. "I will need my robes and blade; the robes are that of a Sarenite, and the blade is an ancient weapon of the surface elves. I suspect they will not be difficult to locate." Xarann, upon realizing they've been drafted for a gladitorial arena, seems to have finally found whatever inner peace he was looking for. No longer relaxed, his posture is taught and aggressive. "The other items in my pack could prove useful, but they are not necessary." Given that the duergar told them to equip themselves quickly, Xarann takes a moment to close his eyes and bring his hands together in a few small motions.
"يجوز لل زهرة الفجر توجه لي شفرة ، وحماية لي من الأذى," the half-drow says quietly, as a pale glow envelops his body before disappearing.
Illiana looks around the room for something like a chain shirt and a whip, but makes no move to acquire either if she spots them.
"I require my circlet," she informs the duergar simply.
"Any enchanted items on your person were identified well before now," the same guard says. Perhaps he's an officer, or perhaps he's just more talkative than the others. "You don't need a belt that gives you superior strength to win a fight. We're not here to make this easy for you. You'll make do." The grey dwarf points toward one wall. "Elven weapons are over there. You'll be able to find something that works."
At Illiana's request, he grunts. "That one I'll allow." He turns to the duergar on his right and nods. The other man leaves and returns perhaps five minutes later with the circlet. Meanwhile, Illiana is easily able to find a black leather whip and a polished steel chain shirt.
"Hmm... very well," Xarann replies, before pulling a long, curved blade from its place on the racks. Nearly as long as he is, the weapon seems almost an extension of his arms as he tests it for balance. With blinding speed, Xarann whips the blade around through a series of cuts and slashes, with the final slice aimed at some imaginary opponent's throat. The blade stops short, and the half-drow gives a nod of satisfaction. "This will do."
Tlugos glares down at the dwarf.
"You don't need a hammer to cave in some fools head and yet here you have them. A weapon is an object to give you a slight advantage in a fight, my sash does not grant me skill. It only gives me a slight advantage. The same as my ring over your clumsily made armor."
He moves towards the weapons, purposely bumping the dwarf aside with force. His strength was already superior. He removed a simple javelin with it's accompanying sheath that he sling across his chest, letting the thin spear peek over his shoulder.
"I suppose I'll keep this in case any try to run. Or I find a tempting target among those watching."
His pupil less eyes gave off the sense that he may have been looking at the dwarf when he made that comment.
Upon hearing the old duergar talk about his mount, Urf felt a wave of warm relief wash over his heart. That had to mean that Itchy Butt was still alive and well, it just had to! Muttering to himself in Goblin, it was very obvious he was happy to hear that he most certainly would be reunited with his companion. Then came the topic of taking them to an armory, and about an arena, and Urf knew that he was about to fight. He really hoped that he would get to fight some duergar; those arrogant cave dwarves needed to learn respect due to a member of the Cockatrice Order.
Urf attempted to fight back when being led down yet another corridor, but there wasn't much he could do about it. When reaching the room, he quickly looked around for his own stuff, to which he was disappointed when he didn't see any of it. "Where Urf's stuff?!" he demanded, though he knew he wasn't going to get any of it. "Urf's lance better be in good shape, as well as Urf's belt that make Urf feel strong! And the firemaking metal and stone thing! Urf gotta make fires!"
Despite his outburst, the goblin eventually just grabbed a lance of his size and some hide armor, taking the time to make sure it was fastened properly. He was so used to his own set of armor, it was a little difficult, but he managed to secure it and cover up his most vital areas. He looked around at the other slaves that came with him, and wondered just how they all would fight. It seemed the half-drow obsessed with flowers preferred to swing a blade around, and the big burly drow-looking tiefling that the armed guards, for some strange reason, were afraid of wanted to use a javelin, or at least have one around. It was hard to see what the nude drow lady wanted, though it seemed to Urf that clothes were still not one of them. It would be rather distracting to everyone if she went out nude, which certainly worried him.
Shaking his head again and looking over at the duergar that brought them there, he walked up to them and then said, "Urf almost ready to fight! You bring Itchy Butt to fight, too! Urf don't fight without Itchy Butt!"
Rissi follows the guards, looking downtrodden and terrified, as they lead them to the armory. While the others make their demands, she quickly finds a rapier, some daggers, and a tailblade, presumably left from some other poor, kidnapped ratfolk. A chain shirt in her size is rustled up from one corner. Once she's equipped, she approaches the guard gingerly.
"Er...your worship," she says quietly, "There were some things I had on me when your men captured me that have...sentimental value to me. They're not magic themselves, but I find them...helpful. An amber pendant, a silver necklace, and a...gold coin about this big, with strange runes on it?"
"Your rat will be waiting for you at the arena," the guard tells Urf, clearly beginning to get annoyed. "Now stop talking already. You don't need your tongue to fight for us."
Rissi is able to find a rapier and a brace of a few knives, as well as armor in her size. However, it seems that a tailblade is something that the duergar didn't think to keep on hand. Perhaps they just don't see enough ratfolk to make it worth keeping the weapon around. "Focusing items. Yes, we've seen wizards with that sort of thing before. Never three that I know of, but fine." A guard brings the items after a few minutes, dumping them unceremoniously at Rissi's feet.
"Are you slaves done yet?
As soon as she gets her hands on them, Rissi squeals and clutches the items to her, feeling her breathing and her pulse slow as her anxiety begins to dissipate. Oh thank every god there is...I thought I'd never see you again! She looks over each item quickly. If only I had more time...
If anyone tries to bother her before it's time for...whatever it is that's about to happen, they find Rissi completely absorbed in her objects.
Once her circlet is returned to her, Illiana dons the chain shirt she located previously. She also secures a rapier and a whip.
I wonder if we are expected to be enemies or allies.
Tlugos leans near the dwarf, pretending a yawn. His mouth opens wide to show rows of fangs behind the veneer of his more humanoid teeth. When he closes his mouth with a hand to stifle the last of the yawn. Again the dwarf get's the impression he is looking at him.
Arena? So they intended to use them as entertainment then. Melaina supposed that she could have been worse off. Though it did raise plenty of questions. Was she among allies or enemies even? She has little time to think on the subject though, as their group is quickly whisked off again.
The armory presents very little of interest to Melaina, though she spends a minute trying to decide if it’s worth requesting anything. Judging by the dwarf’s reactions to other requests however, she abandons the idea. She’d had a few items that certainly would have been helpful, but nothing that she desperately needed, nor that he expected them to agree to returning. “I can make do.” She says, and she grabs a dagger, though she doesn’t really expect to use it. It was still better to be prepared as she could be though, even if that was rather minimal.
Urf was so ecstatic to hear that Itchy Butt would indeed be in the arena for him, he even let the rat comment slip by. "Take Urf to Itchy Butt right now!" he demanded, bouncing up and down, having also ignored the comment to zip it. [b]"It been hours since Urf saw Itchy Butt! Itchy Butt better not be hurt, or you be sorry!"
"Whom will we be fighting?" Xarann asks, casting an eye over the others. "Will we be allies in this bout, or will we be fighting amongst ourselves?"
"You'll see who you're fighting when you get there," the guard says. "And you'll be working together. We're looking for a group that can at least function as a team. Now get moving." The group is once again led away, taken a bit down the hall to another room, this one just an antechamber with a large portcullis barring the way in to a large dirt floored arena.
"In ten minutes, that gate will open and you'll meet your opponents. You will not fight to the death. The losers will be sent to the mines. So if you don't want to dig iron for us for the rest of your lives, I suggest you fight hard. And use that ten minutes to get to know the people your lives now rely on and prepare for battle." The group can hear a loud hissing and a scrabbling sound as two more guards come in, carrying a large cage with a horrendously ugly creature that is some unholy mixture of rat and dog inside. They set it down and open it, letting the beast run straight to the goblin and tackle him playfully to the floor. "Good luck," the guard says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You'll need it."
"If their weak then don't send them to fight me."
He comments to no one, such nonsense. They wanted him to fight and do so without the intent of killing his opponent. Then why offer blades and lethal weapons. Their words and actions were misaligned, actions rarely lied. If his opponents feared death, they would surrender or run from him. It was as simple as that, he did not dig. Not even graves for the fallen, they burned. At the dwarfs exit and parting words he can only hope he would be among the crowd and he still held his javelin. He would plant it in that ugly gray face, he silently promised.
Left alone with the others he looks them over for a moment before speaking.
"Are any of you useful? Half of you are sorcerers of one kind or another yet not enough to escape the grey ones. What can you do?"
He had little love for sorcerers, their ilk always considered themselves so grand. They knew little of honor and proved wanting when their spells were wasted or you stood directly before them. Still he had known some to be useful and if properly humble they could be very cunning. Then again he had found few with honor in this land, fewer still with sense not placed in them by fear or punishment. He could always hope to be surprised but he did not expect it.
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At first, Urf feared that he was lied to and that Itchy Butt wouldn't actually be present in the arena as they were led into the antechamber. About to speak up, though, he heard the familiar hissing noise of his goblin dog, and turned to watch the dwarves bring him in. "ITCHY BUTT!" he yelled as that cage was opened, spreading his arms wide to receive that pounce from his mount. The goblin then proceeded to wrap his arms around the creature's head, nuzzling him and letting him lick his cheek, all the while saying things in Goblin; those that could actually understand him would probably cringe.
It took the goblin a good chunk of time to settle down, just in time for the burly tiefling to ask his question. With Urf still holding onto Itchy Butt's head, he made a few gestures, and the goblin dog threw his head back, letting Urf fling himself into the air and land right in the saddle on the goblin dog's back perfectly, holding his lance out in his hand; there were many failed attempts in the past to get that trick just right. "Urf and Itchy Butt most useful!" the goblin confidently proclaimed. "Itchy Butt run fast at bad guys, then Urf make them go splat on lance! Big people don't keep kneecaps when Urf making them pay!"
Then the goblin turned the tables on the tiefling. "What YOU do?" he asked, pointing at him with his lance. "You may be Urf's underling, but Urf not sure just what you do. Cave dwarves seem scared, but Urf not see why. If they not cower from Urf, they no cower from you, unless you know dark secrets...like they sleep naked!"
"Urgh, that's...alarming," Rissi mutters as she watches the goblin cuddle with his Itchy Butt. "That's what he's been after?"
She says nothing during the first few moments of the exchange, but as Urf tries to turn the tables back on Tlugos, she speaks up. "I'm guessing he can fight all right, Mr. Urf. Which is a fair amount more than I can say for myself. I'm not much of a toughie...but I'm not afraid to get my blade dirty, either." She looks Tlugos in the eye (even though this requires craning her neck). "If you keep them busy, I'll happily stick them with my sword. And I...may be able to do one or two other things to them. Or to us! That would be better, maybe. Things to protect us..."
Tlugos gives the little green thing a cool look, again his muscles shifting in ways that don't quite match his movements. He grabs a near by bar, tightening his grip, a groan escapes from below his fingers. He removes his hand, leaving marks more akin to claws then fingers upon the metal. His rumbling voice replies.
"Pray you do not find out what I am capable of personally. Claim to be my master again, and you will."
At the ratfolk's words he shifts his gaze.
"Do not worry about me attracting their attention. If they ignore me, they will suffer for it. What exactly can you do to protect us? Unless you can throw balls of fire and such."
Illiana sits quietly, watching the reunion of the goblin and his mount with a mixture of interest and disgust, as she waits for the gate to open. She had already stated quite clearly that she is a priestess of Nocticula and has no intention of repeating herself. Besides... she wants a better handle on the situation before offering up too much about herself.
"Um, no, not that flashy. But uh...I can give everyone a slight shield against misfortune!" Rissi frowns. "It doesn't last long, though, so best to wait until we hear the...horn? Signal."