"I told you, you were on my list."
He growled as his arms and legs flew in a flurry, he would deal with the archer then the fool at his feet. More ki was summoned increasing his own movements in a different fashion.
Urf could easily tell that things were certainly going in their favor, and that the obvious spellcasters were doing weird things to the others. Urf didn't care, though; all he knew was that Xaraan was taking care of the wolf, and he could finally charge that Drow again. "Urf not forget you!" he yelled as he pointed his lance at him. "Urf save souls!" It seemed the Drow was a little frazzled at that point; nonetheless, he made his charge, despite the wolf still being next to him; Itchy Butt's speed would make it difficult to hit either of them. If possible, Urf made sure to run his lance through that book as well as the Drow, though any part of him would do at that point.
The Wolf snaps at Urf one more time, tearing another strip of flesh from the little goblin. Nevertheless, Urf charges down the drow with the cursed book with abandon, his lance slamming straight in to the elf's chest and spearing him straight through. The drow makes a choked gurgling sound that might be an attempt to cry out in pain with blood in his lung before he slumps over, dead as a door nail.
Melaina is up!
A slight sound of irritation escapes her as her first shot misses horribly. At least the situation seemed to be well in hand, but she was definitely asking for her ring back before she got herself into another situation like this. Regardless, she attempts to weaken the beast one more time, fully expecting it to be put down soon enough.
Melaina's ray once again flies over the wolf's head, as it's rather hard to aim into the middle of a fray. Tlugos on the other hand, has no such problem. Every single one of his blows strikes the stunned half-orc, violently ripping in to his flesh. The green skinned man's chest is completely torn out, with blood an viscera flying everywhere as he crumples to the ground. The half-elf squeaks from her place on the ground as the mangled body falls next to her. "Oh gods! I surrender! Please don't do that to me too!" Her sword drops from her hands with a noisy clang. Seeing his master fall, the wolf howls mournfully, but seems to lose the will to fight, backing down from Xarann.
Combat ends!
For a moment, everything is silent, then the group can hear clapping from the observation platform. "Well done!" the duergar leader calls out. "A passable performance! You'll do well for the task at hand..." He turns to his guards. "Take their weapons back to the armory and make sure they're presentable then take them to the citadel." The guards quickly move to obey, several more appearing from side passages in to the arena. They quickly begin to deal with the survivors of the other team and begin carting the bodies away while a squad of eight guides the party back to the antechamber. Inside, they find some plain, but far better than the rags they're wearing, clothes. "Get dressed and leave your arms and armor here. You have ten minutes." With that, the duergar guards leave the party in the room.
Urf was preparing another charge towards the wolf that took several chunks of flesh out of his arm before the silence fell, and he realized that the fight was over. The goblin actually looked rather disappointed, slowly lowering his lance while grumbling to himself. His eyes looked over to the Drow he felled, prodding Itchy Butt to inch closer to the corpse. The blood oozing out the lance wound stained the floor of the arena, and it seemed like the green imp was, in a way, contemplating the impact that the death would cause. It was as if a monsoon of emotions were swirling in the goblin's head, like he felt with each life he took, the world around him became just a little darker, no matter the reason behind it.
Then he spat on the body.
The duergar started to clap his approval shortly thereafter, congratulating them on their victory. "Passable?!" Urf shrieked, sounding incredibly insulted. "That definitely a glorious battle! Urf surprised cave dwarf even able to speak after seeing such glory! No one able to be same after seeing Urf and his Itchy Butt charging into action!"
As the other duergar start to deal with the survivors and bodies alike, Urf at first seemed like he was getting ready to charge, but after seeing just how many there were, he begrudgingly lowered his lance and relinquished it to the dark dwarves. "Urf stay with Itchy Butt!" he did demand, however. "Itchy Butt not weapon! Itchy Butt part of Urf!"
When instructed to get dressed in the clothes offered, Urf remained seated in the saddle for a while until he was certain Itchy Butt wouldn't be taken away from him again. When seemingly assured that his companion wouldn't leave his side again, he slowly climbed down, giving his goblin dog a few rubs on the forehead, which the rodent seemed to quite enjoy. It seemed like all the clothes were pretty much the same for his size, so he just picked the closest set and stripped out of the armor quickly, leaving him briefly nude until he got the pants on.
"So big burly underling and cave elf obsessed with flowers know how to fight, kinda," he started to muse out loud as he got dressed, "but what rest of you even do? Rat thing just likes shiny things and getting behind people, naked lady probably part of one of those clubs, and stony lady not even do anything, really! So what do for Urf when escaping?"
Rissi glares at Urf as the party decamps to the antechamber. "For one, I know enough about escaping from places to know that one shouldn't usually talk about it when guards are not far away," she hisses quietly. "For another...well, my shiny things let me do things that you can't even with your lance." She briefly considers charming him to prove her point--the others probably wouldn't even notice--but decides it'd be rude, and if it didn't work...
"Perhaps of more use to you, if we ever do see a chance to get out of here and we find our stuff, I can open doors. Which is, y'know, not incidental to escaping."
Before he could answer the surrender with a kick to the throat, it seems the battle was decided.
"Good fortune for you."
He takes his javelin and brings it down, just for fun.
"You were not on my list this time."
The wooden weapon is stuck in the ground next to her.
They are escorted and given directions. He cared little for the clothes, his own nothing overly impressive to begin with but they were well made. These gray skinned little pest couldn't even weave to save their lives, no wonder they looked for slaves. He changes quickly, not caring if anyone saw ether tail of his. Which he promptly made room for one on the seat of his pants with a well aimed single claw strike. He tossed the rags over his shoulder. He ignored most of the goblin's little tantrum until he made his mistake. His limbs lashed out even while keeping the same movements he used in the arena just moments ago. Noticeably for those with keen sight his claw strikes used the flats of his form on the goblin.
"I do not make idle threats goblin, when I say I will teach you a lesson when you claim to be my master. I will do just that and I have. Challenge my word a second time and I will not be so kind."
He glared at the goblin ready for him. If the goblin or his beast tested him he would not restrain himself. It was the dwarves and their mystery task that made him consider things. While the goblin proved himself at least competent with his skills, everything else about him worked against him. If the little fool wanted to die then he would gladly kill him if he continued to provoke him.
Rissi squeals in panic as the tiefling turns toward the goblin, hatred in his eyes. They can't fight, they'll bring the guards down on us! Nonononononononono!
Desperately, she snatches at the necklace around her neck and swings out at Tlugos with her mind, trying to befuddle him. As the tiefling's strikes slow she cries, "Don't go hurting each other! They clearly need us to be some sort of team--if we want to--" she catches herself, looks around, then leans in and hisses angrily, "if we want to get out of here, we're going to have to work together!"
"You both ought to calm yourselves," Xarann says simply as he pulls on his clothes, watching Rissi carefully. "Your conflict is pointless, and will only serve to cause the guards to beat you half to death. Whatever modicum of bargaining power we now have, you'll lose it for all of us." The half-drow expresses some distaste for his clothing as it restricts his movement somewhat, but he shrugs his shoulders a few times and seems to be able to ignore it. "Is that what you want? To lose any chance of leaving the slave pits, and be cast into their mines?"
"I'd wager none of us want that," Rissi says anxiously, glancing at Tlugos and Urf to make sure the situation is diffused.
So they weren't simply to conquer the arena. It was some sort of test... which they apparently passed.
When lead back to the antechamber, Illiana inspects the clothes they are offered. It seems they're cleaner than the rags they were given before. She dresses and then watches curiously as the tiefling strikes the little goblin and a commotion begins in an unfamiliar tongue. Hopefully the fools wouldn't ruin her chances to escape, or she'd kill them in their sleep.
Urf was hardly paying attention as Tlugos struck him, having just turned around and getting the flats of his claws across his face. A surge of emotions and sensations went through the goblin's mind after that, mostly anger and confusion, and Itchy Butt snarled and poised himself for a charge. Urf hissed something in Goblin, however, and the goblin dog relaxed and quickly plodded to his master's side, laying down on his belly. For the while, the green imp had shown little signs of pain from the strike, aside from the slight recoil on the impact.
The look on Urf's face showed that he was ready to challenge Tlugos, not about to take this slight lying down, but Rissi spoke just fast enough to make him listen. He closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath through his nostrils. "You lucky you needed for escape," Urf hissed. "Urf not give challenge...for now. For now, we work together; you could work with Urf after this over, but that no longer an offer. Urf need respectable underlings for his Cockatrice status, not hotheads that attack just because words spoken. Urf not even know why you think Urf be master if you underling; why Urf try to have slaves when Urf not like being slave? Urf try and be ender of slavery, not maker of slaves. Urf tired of slaves being a thing. You make sound like Urf try and be slave master again, and it be Urf that teaches YOU lesson."
Obviously offended by the insinuation he would attempt to make anyone a slave, Urf let out another irritated breath and hopped on Itchy Butt's saddle, directing his mount to wander around the place. Shortly after he turned his back to Tlugos, his hands went up to his face where he was struck, hissing and yelping things in Goblin while retching in pain.
Tlugos bore down on the little fool, the last of his patience being devoured by his restraint not to tear the little creature apart for insulting him a third time.
"Underlings serve masters, if you do not know what a word means then do not speak it. If you claim to be my master, call me an underling, or challenge my word again once I give it. I will not hold back. I will fight you with all my strength. Is that clear enough for you little goblin."
Unless the goblin wished to provoke him farther he left it at that and turned to the ratfolk.
"If you meddle in my personal affairs again, you will be involved in them. No matter what side you choose."
He spared her a glare before informing these rather unperceptive people.
"I will not be involved in any escape attempts. I am not blind, deaf, or dumb in any manner. The city belongs to the gray ones and they are no fools. I would think the display earlier and your capture to begin with would make that clear. I bartered for a respite from my cell, even if not all were aware. They fear me as any creature fears for it's life but with their brothers besides them they are rightfully bold. As are those with real power. Try to escape, you will find yourselves in the mines at best, at worst they may find your value is greater in pieces then whole."
Ether they knew nothing of the slave trade or they were foolish. Freedom was simple concerning these rock mongers, buy it. The whole point of a slave was their value as a resource. The more powerful the slave the more expensive they were to control. Such it was easier and more profitable to sell them. Be it to another or to themselves as a form of earning their freedom. Even he knew better then to kill guards wantonly, the dead and wounded would out weigh his worth. He would be carelessly sold to recover losses or killed to prevent incurring more losses. Let them escape into a city full of slavers, if it was remotely like his homeland they would be captured in short order or eaten. Who would risk the wrath of the overlord for slaves. Even then where would they go in this unknown land. Such nonsense.
"Contemplate things as they are, not as you wish them to be."
He awaits the dwarves arrival leaning on a stone wall.
The tension in the room is thick, but the duergar officer arrives a few minutes later with his retinue of guards. He takes one look around the room and scowls. "I don't care what you think of each other," he says, hefting his warhammer meaningfully. "But I should tell you, killing another slave without explicit permission is punishable by a day of torture for each year of service you've robbed your masters of. Followed by execution by beheading. So I would suggest you shut up and behave. I don't have the free time to replace one of you, but I can rearrange my schedule if you want to cause problems."
With that, he leads the party away. They quickly find themselves moving upward, out of the slave pits and in to the city proper. As they emerge from the building, they find themselves in an utterly massive cavern. The vaulted ceiling goes up for thousands of feet, towers of dark grey stone holding the roof in place above their heads. Spirally staircases wrap around the towers, leading down to the massive metropolis below. Contrary to what they might expect, the streets are absolutely packed. Hundred of people from a dozen races walk the streets, duergar, dark folk, drow, humans, mongrelfolk, and more. The crowds part without a word as the column moves through. The party catches a few glances of sympathy from some of the surface dwellers, but nothing more.
The soldiers lead the group through the streets, heading to, of all places, the citadel. The massive fortress stands slightly raised above everything else in the heart of the city, it's size rivaled only by the towering steeples of the cathedral of Droskar only a few blocks away. Guards in massive plate armor patrol the walls in packs, warhammers and crossbows at their sides. The officer salutes the gate guards and you're let in without a fuss. "You will be respectful to King Orgukagen," he informs the party as they're escorted inside. "Because I swear to Droskar, if you so much as look at him wrong, I will kneecap you and throw you in the mines to rot. Am I clear?" The group finally comes to a stop not far inside, standing before a pair of massive double doors engraved with a colossal stag beetle.
"I haven't a doubt as to your sincerity," Xarann says, his tone cordial. "Your monarch shall be given the respect owed him by his title." Xarann stretches and rolls his shoulders, but otherwise seems very calm. "Forgive me if I am being rude, but may I ask why we're being brought before someone of such status? We have won a fight in your slave pits, but that hardly seems an accomplishment fit for meeting a king. Is there something I'm missing?"
Rissi, relieved that the fight's been broken up by their handlers, scurries to follow the guard out of their cell and into the streets. She gapes slightly when she sees the city--It's so huge! This is big as anything in the Five Kings!--but when the officer gives his warning she just nods, clearly nervous to the point of feeling panic-stricken. She listens intently for the officer's response to Xarann's questions.
The guard scowls. "Because the king ordered that a team of skilled combatants be captured and brought before him. I don't know what he wanted combat slaves for and I don't care. My job is to bring you to him without any... permanent maiming. After that, you belong to him and you're no longer my problem." With that, the large doors swing open. It takes a moment, but the group can see two more guards pulling the doors open from within and another dozen line the walls.
The room is certainly large enough to warrant such doors. The ceiling is easily twenty feet tall, held aloft by stone arches and columns carved with intricate, spiraling patterns. A deep burnt auburn carpet leads from the entrance to a raised dais at the far end of the room. Atop it, a throne carved from jet black stone and inlaid with glittering veins of gold stands. And on the throne sits a man who can only be the king. He's tall for a dwarf, even sitting down he's taller than just about every other duergar in the room. Standing, he could probably almost match an average human. A long grey beard hangs down to his knees, but he doesn't look old. It's tough to tell, but he seems extremely comfortable in a massive suit of full plate made from black metal. A crown with the same beetle symbol sits on his brow, made of pure gold and set with three huge gem stones. "So these are the slaves you provide?" he growls, his deep voice echoing slightly in the massive room. "I suppose I can only expect so much from slaves. Very well. Leave us."
The captain bows deeply. "Yes your majesty." He gives the party one last glare before he departs, the doors swinging shut behind him.
"Now," the king says, turning his attention back to you. "I have a use for slaves that are capable of holding their own in battle. You should be grateful, it's not often that newly taken slaves are given rights as slave mercenaries. But I have a problem that I require new blood to solve." He shifts on his throne, his armor shifting noisily as he moves. "I will be brief. Pay attention, because I have no desire to repeat myself. In recent months, there have been problems along the Long Walk. Caravans of slaves, forged goods, and coin have been disappearing. And no matter where I send my troops, they always fail to find these raiders!" He growls, slamming his fist in to the arm of his throne. "Adding guards to one caravan simply causes others to be attacked. Changing routes has as many ambushes as before. At least I must assume they are ambushes, because we never find any survivors. They have inside information and I cannot find the culprit! So I need new blood, someone who cannot possibly be subverted yet, to do the job my soldiers cannot."
Urf had been just wandering around the rest of the room on Itchy Butt by the time the guard came in to fetch them. The goblin had been grumbling to himself in his native language, and at first didn't even notice the duergar had come in until he was talking about torture. A sudden chill ran down his spine when the mention of beheading came up; he had seen his former troll masters behead a fellow goblin slave for daring to keep extra food on his person, and that image had stuck with Urf ever since. Besides, being beheaded would definitely reduce his standing in the Cockatrice Order, and it would take forever to build his glory back up! Glory leaves through the head, after all. It was certainly enough of a threat to keep Urf in line, at least in front of the cave dwarves.
Urf would refuse to leave Itchy Butt's saddle as they walked through the city. There was definitely a look of shock on the goblin's face to see so many people walking around underground. He said a few things in Goblin, mostly because he suspected the soldiers didn't speak the language, and he didn't want to get himself in trouble for potentially saying anything to make them mad; it seemed that underground-dwellers were touchy.
Then they all got into the citadel, and they were told they'd be seeing the king. A warning was given out, and Urf knew he had to be on his best behavior, and by that, it probably meant he'd have to shut up, since his Common was still rather poor. Besides, it would be bad to get on the worst side of a king; kings hold power, and therefore a lot of glory. If he were to get on the good side of the king, however...that would certainly raise his own glory!
When told to go inside, Urf lowered himself off his goblin dog and told him to heel, keeping a hand on its head to keep it calm. When the king made his comment about having to expect so much, it was very obvious Urf was holding something back, his body shaking and his arm squeezing his opposite bicep. He also did his best to pay attention to the speech that was given afterwards about how caravans were being attacked, but his attention did falter to wander around the rest of the room, trying to see how elaborate the decor was, and possibly getting ideas for how he would decorate his own castle if he lived long enough to get one.
When the speech ended and it appeared that his group would be tasked with solving the mystery of the ambushes, Urf looked to his party, hoping one of them would ask questions for him; there was no way he was going to let his broken Common tarnish any hopes of getting a king on his side.
Rissi inhales sharply when the king mentions that they're to be slave mercenaries, though she tries to keep her face blank. I'm not much of a fighter, really...but then, I suppose this is a chance to win some standing and then, maybe, our freedom!
Trying to keep her voice studiously subservient, she bows and says, "We are honored by your glorious attention, your highness. If I may ask, is there any pattern to what the thieves take from the caravans? A particular type of good each one was carrying? And, most importantly..." Her eyes narrow in thought. "When was the last attack, and did you recover anything--anything at all--that might have been left by the attackers?"
The king says nothing for a moment, examining Rissi's face, perhaps for signs of sarcasm or dishonesty. "The only pattern is the contents of the caravans. Almost every caravan was carrying slaves to other markets. Many were also carrying weapons and armor. A few caravans carrying large amounts of weapons, but no slaves were also raided. And the last attack... I was halfway along the Long Walk, several days due east, just before it turns north. The caravan was brutally attacked. All of the guards and beetles were dead or missing and all of the slaves were gone, along with thousands of gold in blades."
Rissi's heart quickens. Slaves gone, and weapons...it almost sounds like...a rebellion? Or at least a slave liberation group? Trying carefully to keep her voice neutral, she asks, "Do you have any suspicions as to whom the culprits might be, Your Highness? Any information would be helpful to us in making plans to meet with your enemies." And maybe join them, if they'll have me.
"You wish for us to track down your thieves, then?" Xarann asks plainly, taking in the information. "I will need my own things to be of the most use to you, Your Highness. While I am not... incapable without them, my efficacy in battle is heightened even beyond what I displayed in the arena. They will make the task you ask of us much easier, and I would think the items owned by my companions might do the same for them." Xarann, while clearly not skilled with such things as negotiation or honorifics, is obviously doing his best to be respectful if nothing else. "However, Your Highness, I cannot kill the perpetrators if they offer me an honest surrender, and I will not suffer my compatriots to do so either. As long as their surrender holds, I cannot abide any harm coming to them; it is against the way of the Dawnflower to cause such undue suffering."
"At least one of them is somewhere in my own house. Either a clan elder or a ranking officer of some kind. They're the only ones who have access to all of the information that would be needed to stage these attacks. But, I have no desire to see a bunch of cheap slaves blundering around my city causing a political sh*t storm. You'll be finding whoever is acting as their hand and stopping them, as well as bringing any evidence back to me."
The king smirks at Xarann's statement. "That is acceptable. Preferable even. Prisoners can be put to use or sold off. After they've been thoroughly interrogated."
"Xarann speaks wisely, your highness," Rissi says quickly. "If you'll return our possessions to us and give us any remaining information or instructions, we'll be on our way."
Illiana remains silent during the proceedings. It isn't to show any particular deference to the gray dwarven king, though she indeed respects the power he commands in this place, she simply doesn't care about his problems enough to ask any questions. The task has been laid before them, and she will complete it unless a better opportunity arises.
As they stand there, Illiana instead considers the others. The boisterous little goblin is being remarkably quiet. Despite having riled up the tiefling, who stands a considerable chance of crushing the imp, he has enough sense not to do anything so amusing now. That's comforting. The rat is clever and not averse to groveling... useful.
While she remains impassive during most of what passes, she can't help but roll her eyes at the thinblood's incessant talk of mercy. At least the gray dwarves are pragmatic in their reasons for not killing, but this poor fool... her lips curl a bit in the hints of the devilishly bemused smile as she imagines the suffering Xarann would have endured as he was cured of such ridiculous sentiments had he grown up in Zirnakaynin.
Tlugos had said nothing as he learned from everyone, not just the king. Yet it seemed a very simple thought had not been reached. His voice rumbles as he speaks.
"Your highness, I have yet to hear of our reward should we succeed unless it has escaped me?"
Granting them what was theirs was no reward, being a different form of slave did not matter to him ether. Out in the wild their was nothing and no one to stop them from simply leaving and never coming back. Or even joining those that were his bane should they offer them better terms. That was the source of his problem, his reach was short. His enemy was among his own but proved to have both cunning and greater reach. This king was in danger of losing his position, why else trust fresh slaves when you had so many others beneath your influence. No trust or honor perhaps. Then it would cost him, cheap men did not have comrades or friends after all.
"Your equipment will be returned by one of the overseers once you've left. I have no reason to bring your trinkets to my home." His gaze turns to Tlugos and he scowls. "And your reward, aside from not having your legs broken in six places and being sent to the iron mines for the rest of your very short lives, will be citizenship. You will have nearly equal rights to any of my people and you will be allowed to come and go as you desire. Be grateful that I offer you that much. Now, if you have no more questions, get out of my sight and get to work."
Rissi bobs her head, servile. "Yes, your highness. Thank you very much for your...clemency." Turning, she beckons the others out with a hiss, scurrying down the hallway away from the throne.
"Very well," Xarann says, turning to leave with Rissi. He gives a curt nod to the king, and then strides out of the hall back to the gray dwarf who had escorted them there. His expression was neutral, but he was ready to leave; he was used to the Underdark, and had traveled through it for months at a time. This task, as important as it may be, would be a trifle compared to what he had done on his own.
It was all Urf could do to keep his mouth shut the longer the moment lingered, the goblin noticeably shaking and gritting his teeth. Every passing question from his fellow slaves made him increasingly more paranoid, afraid that one just might be the wrong one and set the king off. At the very least, Itchy Butt was trained enough to keep silent, which probably was the best thing for everyone. When they were told their reward would be citizenship, however, he tilted his head, rather perplexed about it.
His curiosity didn't keep him from quickly exiting when the rest of the party was, however, the little goblin scampering out as fast as he felt was socially acceptable, prodding Itchy Butt to follow him. Once cleared from the doors, being very certain they were closed beforehand, he let out a sigh, then started to ramble about in Goblin, thinking the guards nearby couldn't understand him.
His last sentence, somehow, slipped into Common, which came out as, "There not even water down here for ships!" He then just grumbled incoherently for a while, hopping up on Itchy Butt's saddle, visibly irritated. His mind then remembered the part about the party's loot being returned to them, so he turned to the nearest guard and growled, "You hear king! Give Urf stuff back!"
"Ships?" Rissi glances at Urf curiously, then decides not to bother. She turns to the guard as well. "He may be rude, but he's right. We'll need our equipment."
The party is led away, taken back out of the main palace and off to what appears to be a barracks, or perhaps the headquarters of the guard. The duergar leading them seems mildly bemused by Urf's ranting, but otherwise unaffected. "There's always one who goes crazy..." he mutters. "Quartermaster! I need to belonging of these slaves. Numbers..." He quickly rattles off a string of numbers that are utterly meaningless to the group. A few minutes later, an older duergar arrives with a large crate. "This should be everything."
Without a word, Xarann reaches into the crate to retrieve all of his things. After rummaging through all of their belongings, he tucks all of things under his arm before walking a small distance from the others. He pulls off the clothes given to him by their captors and replaces them with his own robes; he also straps a finely crafted sword to his back and hangs a number of talismans about his neck, before finally tucking the rest of his belongings back into his pack. "When are we expected to leave?" Xarann asks the duergar, waiting for the others to find their own belongings. "I have cast several spells today, and would prefer to rest before we disembark."
Rissi squeals in delight and dives into the crate, rummaging around until she manages to get all of her belongings together. She hums as she straps a small blade to her tail and belts her rapier on. A chain shirt goes over her underclothes but under her outer garments, and a dark cloak completes the ensemble. She sighs contentedly.
At Xarann's suggestion, though, she turns to the guards eagerly. "Ooh! Yes, I vote for leaving tomorrow as well! And, er...if it's not too bold..."
"I wanted to examine anything recovered from the wreckage of the last caravan. If that's possible?"
Urf was quick to start sorting through the contents of the crate when it was brought to the group, grunting as he pushed all the other things aside. He first pulled out his lance, the weapon looking like it had seen some battle in the past, for sure. He inspected the pole arm, just to be sure, and nodded when he saw the several nicks in the middle that he had put there purposefully. His armor came next, which he immediately started to don while the others found their major belongings. Once suited up, he gathered up the rest of his things, putting on his belt, holstering his other weapons, then storing his mundane equipment in his pack.
Once everything of his was gathered, he returned to his spot on Itchy Butt's back, giving his lance a few practice thrusts, visibly delighted to have his trusty weapon back. "What need spells for?" Urf responded to the half cave-elf with a snort. "You got sword; use that! Urf not wanna miss action 'cause gray elf and rat want nap! Urf not need spells to make glory examples out of bad guys, so spells not important!"
"I could use my blade, but my magic will render me far more effective," the half-drow says plainly, folding his arms across his chest. "I don't need it, much like yourself, but it allows me to be far more potent. Perhaps you too would be more effective with some amount of magical prowess; given your people's hatred of books, however, I find such an event unlikely at best." Xarann shrugs, looking at the others. "If we must leave today, I will. However, I believe it might do us well to learn what we can of the previous attacks."
"Most definitely," Rissi says, nodding. "And not all of us are as strong as you, O Mighty Urf," she adds, hoping to placate the goblin slightly. "So, on that note...?" she looks hopefully at the two duergar guards.
Tlugos puts on all his items and checks that everything has been properly returned. Discarding the rags that they had been given without a care.
"It's pointless to enter unknown and hostile territory at anything less then full strength when it is an option. Go if you wish, I will not be leaving until the morrow."
If the goblin wished to rush in, like every other of his kind. Then he would share their fate, he had never known an old goblin after all. He would not join those that chose that path.
Immediately, Illiana digs through the crate for her enchanted blade, Ivy. She pulls the sword from the crate and, with a couple of swings and a thrust that extends at least 15 feet, confirms that it is indeed her weapon. The blade retracts and, satisfied it hasn't been tampered with, Illiana inspects her remaining belongings. The gray dwarves even returned all of her scrolls. They are impressively efficient.
Looking up from her belongings, she notices the others arguing in what seems to be the common surface tongue. Having no interest in an argument she can't understand, she approaches the nearest guard and asks where she is expected to rest.
"There's room in the barracks near the west gate," the guard says. "You'll be quartered there whenever you're in the city. It's better than the slave pens at least." He shrugs. "Before you go... quartermaster! I need to marks!"
The quartermaster grumbles under his breath and disappears back in to the store room again. "Here," he says, returning with a small chest bound in bronze. "There should be enough for all of them." He opens the chest, revealing half a dozen steel arm bands emblazoned with the same beetle that was on the king's door. "This shows who you serve. The guards at our other cities will acknowledge you as property of the king and allow you access to basic sleeping quarters and will give information related to your mission. Of course, once they go on, only the king can remove them."
"That hardly seems like something you'd be concerned about," Xarann says, shrugging. "I don't suppose these serve any sort of... alternative purpose, in addition to marking us as the king's 'property'?" While it's slight, Xarann's tone leaves no mistake that he finds that idea abhorrent. "It's all well and good that we'll have room to sleep, but I've worked as a guide through the Darklands for years; I can find my own food and shelter if need be." Xarann offers his arm to the quartermaster regardless, knowing he doesn't have a choice at the moment. "Still, I can't help but notice I haven't heard of a way for the king to keep track of us."
"You're a smart one, aren't you?" the quartermaster says, and he actually sounds genuine. "The bands also allow the priests or the king to discern your location whenever they want and make it easier to scry you if you decide to try to make a run for it. We're not foolish enough to allow slaves to run loose without something to keep an eye on them. Good warriors are worth a small fortune after all. They also allow you to send a message once per day, so you can immediately report in if something important comes up."
Rissi sighs, but let's the guard put an armband on her without complaint. "I was wondering how the king would be keeping track of his property," she says glumly. "Well, don't worry, we won't try to make a break for it. But I'm with Tlugos over there," she nods to the tiefling, "I think we should start tomorrow, after we've rested. Is there a place we can sleep tonight?"
After the guard responds, Rissi carefully approaches Illiana and speaks to her in Undercommon.
Urf groaned when even Tlugos wanted to wait for the next day to lure in the ambush and fulfill the king's orders. "Why everyone tired?" he grumbled. "Fight didn't even last long! Not like it was long walk to get to castle, either!" With one final noise of disapproval, though, he rolled his eyes and tilted his head back. "Fiiiiine, we take naps before doing glory things."
Shortly after his acceptance of the delay into action, the brands were brought to them, and after hearing what they did, Urf obviously had some reservations about putting them on. "Urf not for owning!" he protested, making Itchy Butt back away a few steps. "Urf proud knight of Cockatrice Order! Urf serve king because Urf best for job, not because king own Urf! King need Urf, so Urf help! Make good impress...improv...improve...immense...make Urf look good if king owe Urf favor."
Despite his state of denial, he saw that his fellow slaves were subjecting themselves to the branding, so he grunted and lowered his guard, gritting his teeth. "You better not make Urf regret this," he growled as he allowed the band to be fitted on his arm. His entire body was tense, his breathing heavy and deliberate as his eyes closed. "If this make Urf get kicked out of Cockatrice Order, Urf coming for you first."
"I think it'll be ok, Urf," Rissi says consolingly. "And besides, think of how much more glorious you'll be when you show off the band of slavery that you...uh..." she glances at the guards and manages not to say what she was about to. "Rose above. Yeah."
"Yes, of course. 'Risen above'", Xarann says, his tone at odds with his stoic facial expression. "You've bound us, where are we to stay? The sooner I begin my meditations, the sooner we can head out tomorrow and discover who it is that has been stealing from your King. It leads to sooner, uh, glory," the half-drow says, with a half-nod towards Urf.
Once everyone has their equipment and their armband, the guard leads them out of the building and back through the city. The trip through the streets catches far less attention this time, considering you don't have a full escort of guards anymore. It takes quite a while the make your way all the way from the central keep out to the walls, but you eventually come to a utilitarian grey stone structure just off the towering gates. "In here. There's a spare room immediate to your left inside. You can bunk there for the time being."
Rissi nods, scurrying ahead of the guard to stake out a space for herself. "Thanks very much, sir! Much obliged. Bye now!"
Once she's gotten a corner (or a bunk, if there are actual bunks to be had) reserved, she lays out her implements carefully to "rest" them and turns to the others. With the guard not in the room, she feels able to speak more freely. "Well. None of us want to be here, I don't think, but here we all are. So the question is this: what are we going to do about it? How are we going to get out of this predicament? And tomorrow, are there any special plans or preparations we can make for this caravan jaunt?"
Tlugos moves dismissively pass the gray dwarves and picks a defensible corner. He sits cross legged and seems to fall into meditation or sleep at once. Still even at seeming rest his muscles move below his dark skin, as if refusing to ever be still.