Captured by the dreaded Drow, you were brought to this outpost to wait to be sent on to Menzoberranzan, the City of Spiders. Some of you will be slaves, others will be entertainment. All of you wear shackles and collars. The Drow have made your status as living refuse abundantly clear. They have forced you to perform menial tasks, many of which have been meaningless. They have subjected you to abuse upon the slightest whim. And they have harshly disciplined any rebellion against their authority.
You have been at the outpost for seven days. On the fourth day, one of the guards dropped a few gold coins near you. You managed to snatch one up without being noticed and you have kept it hidden in a tiny crack in the wall of the slave pen.
You awoke in the slave pen eight days ago. On the second day, you found a small hole as big around as your wrist in the slave pen. Peering inside, your keen dwarven eyes made out the small, hairy legs of a spider the size of your hand. You caught a cave cricket and threw it into the hole, watching with fascination as your small new friend seized and masticated your gesture of friendship. The spider soon learned to walk out onto your hand to receive a cricket when you tapped lightly on the edge of its hole. The small arachnid’s trust has been a source of solace in your slavery.
You fled the City of Spiders, unsure what your fate would be but knowing you must do your utmost to avoid it. But your unfamiliarity with the twisting passages of the Underdark betrayed you to your pursuers. You were captured and brought to the Velkynvelve outpost before being taken back the rest of the way to your once home. You’ve been here three days awaiting the arrival of a party of Drow to take you back. While cleaning outside the slave pen, you managed to snatch up a few strands of spider silk from the ground. Facing the wall while the others thought you were sleeping, you managed to weave together a small rope, 5 feet long, in the slave pen. You keep it wound around your waist under your garment.
You woke up here the day before. The Drow immediately put you to work cleaning. Your small, deft hands managed to palm a gold coin left out on a table while you were cleaning. Knowing you might be searched, you quickly hit it under a nearby sack. The absence of the coin was noticed almost immediately and you were searched, yielding nothing. Later, you managed to sneak the coin back into the slave pen, where you hid it under a few small rocks piled in a corner.
The Drow brought you hear 3 days ago. They put you to work cleaning their rooms immediately. One of the guards had a small flint statue that was knocked over by accident and shattered. They forced you to clean it up. While you were cleaning, you managed to palm a shard of the statue, thinking it might serve as a dagger should you find opportunity. You wove the shard into your hair to conceal it and have been waiting for your opportunity.
Eight days ago, you woke up in this horrible place. The Drow laughed at you, finding your status as a fallen enemy soldier amusing to no end. They forced you to move piles of rubbish across the Quaggoth den then move the rubbish back to debase you further. But when a guard’s back was turned, you noticed that one of the bars on the gate to the slave pen was rusted from perpetual dripping from the cave floor directly on it. You managed to pry it loose silently. To your dismay, you realized the opening was too small for even a Halfling to fit through but you hid the bar under the bones of a former slave in the slave pen, thinking you could use it later as a club.
You’ve spent the longest 10 days of your life in this place, serving the whims of the Drow. They ordered you to take a pickaxe to the wall of the cave, purely to show their power in forcing you to perform a meaningless task. Just under the surface of the wall, however, you saw a small, orangish stone that you had uncovered and mostly dislodged. You managed to pry it loose and hide it in your mouth without the Drow noticing. Later, you took it out and looked at it closely. It is a small, flawed carnelian and you estimate its value at 10 gp. You hid it inside the eye socket of a former slave’s skull in the slave pen.
Currently, you enjoy a brief respite from your labors and the presence of the Drow, huddling in the dimly lighted slave pen. Around you are a variety of fellow slaves, some surface dwellers and others residents of the Underdark. The shock and horror of slavery under the Drow has rendered most of you quite silent so that you have not yet gotten to know each other. Your attention is drawn to some in particular. The hairy, hulking form of the Quaggoth slave draws your attention, especially since you have seen the other Quaggoths of the outpost enjoying a life of relative ease serving the Drow. The twin deep Gnomes also draw your attention as they sleep back to back.
Irdril is of average height for a human female, but has something else about her you cannot discern. She is very pretty despite being dirty and you can tell that her ragged and torn dress once was very nice. She doesn't appear as down in the dumps as you would expect though, almost like she's been in a similiar situation before.
She speaks to the group in a low tone.
"My names is Irdril, how long have you all been here?"
Galenus looks like a prototypical dwarf: short, squat, stout, beard. His reddish brown hair is tangled and dirty, his clothes - once of good wokring-man's quality leather, is torn and frayed, with rips and tears where the whips and lashes struck.
His neck, wrists, and ankles are red and sore from the shackles.
Eight days, by my reckon, he says from the back corner of the cave. For anyone who's been down here for any length of time, this is where he spends the majority of his time, at least since the second day he's been here.
He moves his hand up to his mouth as if he had a cigar, then looks down at his hand longingly. He sighs.
Name is Galenus.
He looks around, and then asks something completely out of sorts with the surroundings, Anyone have a cricket?
Kanzen is a typical-looking drow, dressed in the remnants of fine-looking garments, though they are tattered and torn now. He seems to have been recently beaten, and his left eye is still slightly swollen. He bows slightly to Irdril. "Three days for me," he says in a smooth voice. "I am Kanzen, of... no house in particular." He peers out of the pen. "I don't know how much experience you have of the hospitality of my people, but we should expect things to get much worse before they get any better. If they ever do."
A male deep gnome slave, not one of the twins, replies to Kanzen.
Really now? How much would you bet that one of the guards hits this pretty young lass tomorrow just for fun?
He gestures toward Irdril.
A scaly, fishy humanoid managing to sit cross-legged in the corner (despite his chains) speaks up without opening his eyes. Jimjar, why must you gamble on pain? Would it not be better to dwell in peace?
Kanzen shrugs. "Even if I wanted to, I have nothing to stake. I will not gamble with what's left of my clothes. And though it may surprise you coming from a drow, I find no entertainment in the pain of others."
The mouthy goblin who was dragged in just the day before looks over from his resting place. "Something tells me thee wench can handle herself." He says with a toothy grin. The goblin paddles over to speak with the others and sticks a thumb to his chest. "This Seadog goes by the name o' Cyrus an don't ye forget it."
Kanzen looks down at the plucky little goblin. "You're a fish out of water. Where did they pluck you from?"
Tiberious Towers at a height of 6' 9", and his body still ripples with muscle despite the long imprisonment he has endured. Perhaps a boon gifted by his deity. His scales are a deep crimson red, his coarse pants torn and stained and his shirt lost long ago. His eyes burn like embers on a fire. When he is not knelt in prayer, he paces in the cage most of the time, despite everything he seems still defiant.
Tiberius gives Kanzen a deadly glare just barely keeping himself from spitting at the drow.
He then turns to regard the others. Pointedly avoiding the drow.
Tiberius, Tiberius Vorrack Kerrhylon , and as far as this camp goes, only eight days by my guess. Beyond that? Counting all the other camps and places I have been forced to endure? I cannot recall.
He turns to the dwarf before answering his question. And no, I usually eat what few things I find down here.
Kanzen notes Tiberius's contempt with a level stare, then shrugs philosophically. Who can blame him? My people are the scourge of the Underdark. We share that contempt, he just doesn't know it."
Galinndan rouses himself from resting against the wall.
His tattooed copper skin and green hair mark him as a wood elf.
Ruminating over being captured by the drow will accomplish nothing. There appears some life left in this bunch.
He walks up to between the towering dragonborn and the human - and sees the drow. He speaks up in common.
"I am Galinndan Siannodel of the Moonwood. I have spent ten days in this prison of the drow, after I spent my time hunting *them*."
He continues speaking, glaring with bunched fists, at Kanzen.
"And why are *you* here?"
Kanzen subtly changes his stance to better react to a sudden assault by the visibly angry wood elf. When the elf seems to be willing to hear a response before attacking, he considers his words for a few seconds.
"I'm here because I will not accept the ways of my people. For that, I expected to die on an altar to Lloth, but instead, I am here. Though you hunt my people, I hold no ill will towards you. I am not your enemy. They are," he finishes, nodding his head towards the tunnel beyond the slave pen. He maintains his stance, feet slightly parted, the left twelve inches in front of the right, left shoulder forward.
Irdril crumples her nose at the gnome.
"It is not polite to bet on such things. But if that is my future then I will take it standing up. I have seen and been party to worse."
Regarding the drow.
"Perhaps he is a spy, sent into our midst to watch us more closely.."
She turns to the dwarf. "I do not have a cricket no."
She eyes the dragonborn.. "Hmmm.. Now that looks like a good boadyguard." She smiles at Tiberius and inches a bit closer to him.
Kanzen turns his head towards Irdril as she speaks of him being a spy, and looks at her for a long moment. "Anyone could be a spy. The goblin, the quaggoth, even you, human. The drow corrupt everyone they deal with." Again, he shifts he feet to reorient himself slightly, now expecting to be attacked en masse. If this goes badly, they'll tear me apart.
Bah, Galenus spits out after the wood elf's inquiry, Don't matter none why anyone is here. We're all here regardless. We either find a way to work together, or we'll all be having our ways handled soon enough in Menzo.
His voice drops to a whisper, We got find a way out of this dump, and fast. There's enough strong minded folk here that we may be able to do something if the opportunity presents itself - or if we make an opportunity ourselves.
As for me, I've spent my time befriending this here spider. He likes crickets. He taps on the edge of a hole, and a little spider comes out and walks up on his hand. Dontchya, yes you do.
Don't know how I managed it. Couldn't make a friend out of a warbling vole, and them things preternaturally disposed to being yer friend. Guess it just took the patience of a dwarf.
Lotsa good use for a spider, I tell ya. Freak someone out, or maybe cause the drow to bow down an worship it or something. It's something we can exploit and profit.
Anyone else got an exploit we can use?
Glad for the dwarf breaking up the potentially lethal tension, Kanzen waits for others to speak up before stepping into the limelight so quickly.
"I agree that getting out of here should be our first priority. I can create minor illusions to could be used to trick the guards if needed. I have a few other tricks as well depending on the situation."
"I was plucked from the shores, marooned after some great sea beast throttled ar ship. Barely had time to get me bearings before I felt the sting of a dark in me back." Cyrus answers with a spit.
With the drow's responses and talk veering towards practical plans to escape, Galinndan relaxes his fists and stance somewhat.
"You make a fair case, drow. I will not pretend to fully trust you, but at least for now we seem to have common enemies, as strange as that is for me. I'm all for escape, and resuming my hunt. I found a gem and hid it away, would be worth some gold. Could bribe someone with it perhaps. I am best with twin blades, but I am quiet and swift."
"Lemme take a look at this cage door."
Idril quietly moves over and inspects the lock.
Two Drow guards in armor appear at the gate and you all fall silent. One lifts a key ring from his belt and unlocks the gate. They prod five slaves, a Drow, a Derro, a Dwarf (Eddrikk), and orc, and a female Dwarf, into the slave pen with their shortswords, jabbing much harder than necessary and leaving small cuts on several of the prisoners. Then they glance casually among the others to choose out the next work crew.
You. You. you. They jab their fingers at Cyrus, Tiberius, a small fungus creature in the corner, the twin deep gnomes, and the Quaggoth slave. They lead you out of the slave pen and lock it behind them. They then herd you down steps hewn in the narrow stone ledge to the right of the slave pen and into the Quaggoth den where you're put to work clearing out rubbish supervised by two Quaggoths while one sleeps in the corner. Given no tools, you are forced to carry bones, matted clumps of fur, and feces out of the den with your bare hands and throw them over the rail onto the cave floor far below.
Back in the slave pen, the Drow curls up against the wall facing the other prisoners and seems to rest with one eye half open. The derro glances cheerily at his fellow prisoners.
The small mushroom fellow attempts to help clear out the Quaggoth den, holding as much of the filth as he can at a time. His chains make it more difficult, however, and he stumbles in the middle of the path.
In the slave pen, the Derro glances cheerfully at his fellow prisoners, despite the small trickle of blood from a wound in his arm.
What we talkin' about? Come on, come on. Fill ol' Buppido in!
He smiles broadly and conspiratorially.
Irdril looks closely at the lock, peering carefully at it then scrambling back into the slave pen when she hears the guards approaching.
You think the lock could be picked with your dagger or perhaps even broken by one of the larger prisoners but it wouldn't be too easy, especially without any appropriate tools. In addition, it could draw the attention of the three Drow who keep watch from the hollowed out stalactite across the rope bridge from the slave pen.
Galenus repsonds to the Derro, We talking about how it ain't proper to gamble on other's pain.
He pauses a moment, and in a quieter voice he says, And maybe how to get out of here. Any of you new kids got anything useful to help in that endeavor?
Tiberius says nothing, barely bowing his head when spoken to. He takes to work, using matted clumps of fur as makeshift gloves to move the feces.
When the mushroom thing stumbles, he stops to look down at it.
Hm. Its trying to hard. It won't last at this rate.
Tiberius helps the mushroom thing up, taking a little of its load before giving a nod to it and continuing on in silence.
The Derro rubs his hands in glee. Yes, oh yes. My plans are all coming to fruition, as I foresaw. My power will lead us forth from this place.
The small fungus turns its head up toward Tiberius and releases a small puff of spores. Tiberius can't help but inhale some of them by accident. Then he hears a small voice in his head.
Thank you. I'm scared.
Cyrus sneers at the thought of the degrading tasks but continues his work regardless. Abuse was commonplace on pirate vessels especially so for short folk meaning he was at least familiar with the concept of being treated like a slave.
While working he keeps his distance from the drow captors whenever possible so as not to draw attention to himself. He knows the dark elves thrive on the suffering of others and makes no move to assist those who can not carry their own.
He hums a faint tune to distract himself while he works.
If presented with an opportunity Cyrus will attempt to Palm something useful. Such as a sharp piece of bone or even something directly from the Drow if they accost him.
Galinndan turns to the Derro.
"What power and what plans do you speak of? We could certainly help each other."
The muscular dwarf covered in blue tattoos turns to the drow prodding him with the short sword, Ya mess up me ink, I'll mess up yer face. and proceeds into the pen begrudgingly.
Sporting a short reddish-orange mohawk and long mutton chops pulled into three braids on each side, the brawny young dwarf is covered by only a scant loin cloth, and blue markings from his head to his feet. Tall for a dwarf standing about 4'9" but he will claim to be 5 feet tall.
Smiling at his to companions, Eddrikk, da pleasure is all yers, he chuckled giving his sparse covering an adjustment. In a much lower volume after hearing talk of escape, I'd be much more useful wit some weapons, I think they kept our gear somewhere 'round 'ere. And once we're I have a bit 'o skill at navigation.
The Drow warrior that Eddrikk threatens laughs in his face and backhands him with the flat of his shortsword, knocking Eddrikk to the ground.
He leaves the pen joking with his comrade. The angered dwarf shakes his head to clear the stars in his vision but the Drow has left by the time Eddrikk makes it to his feet.
Foolish squat-man. He learns slowly.
When one of the Drow guards turns his back, Cyrus's hand darts out nimbly into the guard's pocket.
Cyrus feels a round-shaped object and slips it out of the guard's pocket and conceals it in his hand. It is a small, reddish egg.
Buppido looks taken aback at Galinndan's comment and shuts his mouth firmly then turns his back and stares at the cave wall with his arms crossed.
He thinks you were speaking sarcastically.
whelp..
"Im pretty sure the lock can be picked, but I'm not sure it could be done without the guards knowing. A distraction would be needed for sure."
Irdril peers through the bars for anything within 30' that might be useful and can be handled by a mage hand spell.
The only loose things that Irdril can spot through the gate is some thick strands of spider web on the edge of the stone ledge outside the gate. She can't see very well into the guard tower the rope bridge leads to or see any loose items there.
Galenus goes to help the two new dwarves in the cage. You lot alright? he asks as his offers a helping hand.
Tiberius is caught off-guard for moment as a voice enters his mind. He then tries to think back.
That is quite normal. Just do what you are told, and keep your head down around them... are you able to let people communicate through the mind? That's incredible! If however, the mushroom thing cannot read his thoughts as he tries to project them, It is a little awkward as Tiberius stands there looking at stool for about 10 seconds, before finally speaking aloud, leaving out the bit about mind communication. He makes sure to start moving again very quickly, and not stop anymore. Urging the mushroom thing to do the same.
Yes, I guess I can do that. Thank you for thinking so. Most people don't seem to like me. he says miserably. The mushroom moves along as quickly as it can, imitating Tiberius by using fur as makeshift gloves with which to hold the filth. How long will they keep us here?
The female Dwarf responds to Galenus' offered hand with a grunt and shrug. She lets him help her to her feet but he feels the strength of her grip.
Aye. Thank ye. Them dang elves be workin' us somethin' 'orrible. Especially that Shoor. He's trying to prove 'e's fit for 'is new position.
She laughs humorlessly.
I'm Eldeth. What are ye names?
Fer a plan be made about pickin a lock, a plan sha be made about what come after. Eddrikk say still bleeding from the mouth. I think I needa nap.
Until we die, if we let them. or, well maybe not here per say, but, alls the same when you are what we are. Tell me, how many people can you link such as this? Is it only a two-way communication?
Buppido looks taken aback at Galinndan's comment and shuts his mouth firmly then turns his back and stares at the cave wall with his arms crossed.
Galinndan shrugs, unable to fathom the Derro's moodiness.
He turns to the dwarf.
"I am Galinndan. Who is Shoor? A supervisor?"
I don't know... I've never really tried...
Eldeth nods.
'e be Ilvara's right hand man, in a couple o' ways. Young punk just got promoted and wants to make sure everybody knows it.
I'm Galenus.
He ponders over Eldeth's words. Just promoted, huh? I wonder if we can use that to our advantage. Anyone got any ideas?
Galinndan looks interested.
"Maybe make a little trouble for him. If he's embarrassed and angry, maybe he'll make mistakes. We can exploit mistakes. Especially if he lashes out at drow."