See Iymirra's spoiler
"Shall we send your goblin out into the rain, to see what lies ahead?"
"I will check this door to the right."
"Let's check these doors first, there may be other passageways."
Iymviira cracks open the first door on the left and peeks inside.
This room appears to be an office of some forms. A single cluttered desk, a couple chairs. Very little of note. Two torches light this room.
"We should put out all of these torches. Darkness favors us."
Iymviira moves into the room, and puts out the torches by snuffing them with a cloak soaked in the blood of a guard. She then searches the desk for things of value, using her ability to detect magic.
To the right is a large mess hall. Several tables are lined up in here. Banners for the keep are raised on the wall overlooking the chamber, a source of pride for the soldiers present.
Iymiira finds a map of Branderscar Prison, including listing current guard stations.
"This right door appears to lead into a mess hall. No guards seem to be present.
"I think I will add a small symbol of our appreciation to these banners"
Null begins thinking over the motions to brand the symbol of Asmodeous to the guards precious banners.
Armed with the layout of the prison, the plan to kill the Warden begins to become more of a reality. The need to leave a mark of our coming is still strong, so while the ogre picks up the dwarf to defile the banner in the mess hall, Iymviira and her manservant take positions of cover, attacks aimed at the door to the north end of the mess hall. Sneaky, of course.
Null carefully balances himself on the ogre's shoulders, occasionally using one of the beasts horns for support.
Null casts arcane mark to create symbols of Asmodeous on each of the guard's banners.
The banners in the mess hall, pride of the soldiers of Branderscar, have been defaced.
Defacing accomplished, Iymviira takes Firetongue to the door at the south end of the mess hall, both trying listen and notice what may be behind the door.
Beyond the door to the south, the sound of cooking can be heard. A man whistles in sync to the sound of a knife upon a cutting board, while boiling water steaming can also be heard.
Iymviira holds up one finger, then runs it across her throat, indicating that there is one enemy in the next room to be killed quietly. She motions for the dwarf to move up, since it will probably be necessary for him to rush in.
With the troops in position, Iymviira gives the signal for Grumblejack to open the door.
Null evokes the magic of his deep race, flowing it into his newly acquired longbow as Iymiira speaks her commands to the beast.
1 point spent from arcane pool to enhance longbow to a +1 weapon for 1 min.
The door is flung open to reveal two people beyond, cooking.
Iymviira pokes around into the open doorway and shoots an arrow at the male target straight inside.
Null releases an arrow from his enchanted bow at the first human he sees, which is Sam.
Firetongue belches a blast of flame at the male, along with the others, hitting him on and igniting him.
Iymiira and Null miss the target.
Firetongue
Iymiira
Null
Servant
Firetongue
Iymiira
Null
Servants
And another at the woman next round, the blast striking her like a blown kiss on the mouth as she's about to scream, burning up the air in her lungs before she can exhale the shout for aid.
With her Manservant pulling his weight and dispatching the humans, Iymviira quickly and quietly ushers the group into the kitchen, closing the door behind them.
Null is not concerned with his arrow, but does quickly search the room.
"Perhaps a quick search for anything of use. I am a bit hungry..."
Dot
Le dot
In the kingdom of Talingarde, many crimes may send you to Branderscar Prison, but the sentence has but one meaning. You are wicked and irredeemable. Each of you received the same greeting when you arrived. You were held down by rough hands and branded upon the arm with a runic F. The mark signifies ‘forsaken’ and the painful scar is indelible proof that each of you has betrayed the great and eternal love of Iomedae and her chosen mortal vassals.
Condemned, you face at best a life of shackles and servitude in the nearby salt mines. Others might await the “gentle” ministrations of the inquisitors so that co-conspirators may be revealed and confessions extracted. Perhaps, some of you will be spared this ordeal. Perhaps instead you have come to Branderscar to face the final judgment. In three days, the executioner arrives and the axe falls or the pyre will be lit. Through fire or steel, your crimes will be answered.
You have all been chained together in the same communal cell dressed in nothing but filthy, tattered rags. Manhandled and mistreated, any finery you once possessed is either ruined or long lost. No special treatment has been given any prisoner – male or female, commoner or noble – all of the forsaken are bound and imprisoned together. Your feet are secured by iron cuffs tethered by one long chain. Your arms are secured to the wall above by manacles. A guard is posted right outside the cell day and night. Little thought is given to long term accommodations. At Branderscar, justice comes swift and sure.
Escape seems hopeless. You have all been well searched and every attempt to conceal anything on your person has failed. And if you could somehow slip your bonds and fly out of this prison, where would you go? Who from your former life would want anything to do with the forsaken? Despised, alone and shackled – all that you can do now is await your doom.
For each of you, your old life is over. For each of you, hope is a fading memory. For each of you, justice will be fairly meted. And who can blame fair Talingarde after what each of you has done?
The three of you recall the events earlier in the day.
The prison creaks as you are rolled along. A chill wind whips around your bodies, a telling sign you are near some body of water, though you cannot see it. Your heads have been covered in hoods, your mouths gagged. Iron shackles bind your hands in front of you, attached to the floor of the wagon, while another pair of shackles bind your ankles, keeping your stride short. The only clothing you wear are rags that were provided you shortly after your capture.
The wagon stops for a moment, and you hear one of the men guarding you speak to another, though the words themselves escape you. The sound of an opening gate can be heard, then the wagon moves forward, taking you to what can only be your home for the next three days, Branderscar Prison.
The wagon stops just a short distance in, the cage heard to be unlocked. The guard can be heard speaking, "Bunch of bloody criminals", "they'll get what's coming to 'em", "keep an eye on 'em". The cage unlocked, rough hands come in and drag the four of you out, sharp tips that can only be swords prodding you onward.
The three march single file, blind and shackled, the only guide the taunts of the guards, as you are lead into what must be a building. Rounding a corner, you feel an oppressive heat wash over you as a rough voice calls out, "It would seem we have some new guests. The first thing we do here is your initiation." Several of the guards start to chuckle at his statement.
The first of the prisoners is brought forward. "Take a look boys, this here dwarf ain't no normal dwarf. He's a Duergar, down from the Darklands, up here trying to blasphemy against Iomedae in front of her temple. You know how we handle scum like this?" With that, he pulls a brand out of the forge as the guards extend out your arm. He shoves the brand into your arm, leaving the imprint of a runic 'F' there. [b]"Forsaken like you, marked for life. However long that'll be."
The Duergar is dragged away as the next is brought forth. "This here, boys, be a tiefling, a damned fool damned twice now. One fer his birth, another for his crimes. Decided it was good to go and kill a man, dueling to the death. This brand won't do for this filth." As he speaks, he pulls out a special brand, pouring a vial of acid into the handle, dripping from the end in sizzling droplets. It sears as he places it against your skin, burning the mark in.
The third criminal is brought up. "This here's a dhampir, spawn of a vampire. One of them Tian ones in this fellah's case. He's got blood on his hands, and he'll be paying for it with his life." The first brand is once again brought down.
The last of the prisoners is led forward, a goblin. "I'm sure you all know what this is. The little firebug burned down a building a drow was escaping from. Apparently the little bugger has taken a liking to her. Well, let's see how he like a little burning." The final prisoner is then branded.
"Take this lot away." The three of you are taken away, led up a flight of stairs. You can hear the sound of a cell opening, where the four of you are led inside and locked up. Your hands are attached to the wall's behind you, and a chain on one wall is looped through your ankles, binding the four of you together. You are able to sit. When all are secured, your masks and gags are removed, your first signs of your new accommodations. As your eyes adjust, you see the three of you are in a cell. There is a strange, very large doorway off to the right.
Several guards stand outside the cell, one of them the man who performed the branding. "My name is Seargent Tomas Blackerly. I'm in charge of these soldiers here, and I plan to make your next three days miserable." With that he turns and leaves the cell, only two guards left by the far doorway.
Hello
Super Dot
Fantomos looks to his peripheries as well as he can, a difficult thing since he is restrained a bit more than the rest. Once he had been sentenced, he decided to claim his last meal. While the guard's shoulder was tasty, his head is now covered with a Hannibal Lector mask that was chained closely to the wall. The sting of the acid brand still sharp in his mind, he eagerly waits for one of the other prisoners to make their move before he begins his attempts to break the chains that bind him.
Boy, I sure could go for some guard liver with fava beans and a nice chianti.
All that managed to make it through the mask and gag was, "Mrf muffle muffle ack ack."
Tinn silently looks down to his now naked body. The guards having taken everything from him after his first escape attempt when he was arrested.
Thinking "If I free myself maybe someone can kill those guards."
Escape Artist - 1d20 + 8 = (2) + 8 = 10
(well my rolling hasn't changed)
After finally regaining consciousness, Null takes in the reality of his situation. Perhaps things would have gone better if in response to the burning shank used to scar the "F" into his skin he hadn't cast his own brand back at the "torturer". Null could really care less about one more scar or mar on his ever rippling skin, however, that torturer might care that he now had the symbol of Asmodeous magically etched on his forehead.
Looking around it seems Null has some company. A muzzled tiefling and some variety of undead, maybe a vampire. Not uncommon merchants to his once underground clan. They might be valuable resources in an attempt to get out of this confinement. They are also most likely very unpredictable- which is not a thing Null appreciates.
Null is also immediately aware that Dream splitter is not at his side.
It sounds like the tiefling is trying to communicate through the muzzle. Hmm, either desperate, crazed, or unaware that the muzzle hinders sound.
In Common
"It seems we must break free. Staying chained will not be productive."
In Undercommon, whispering to himself
"I hear you XilIanizatora, do not ruin the slaves before I get there."
Well, it looks like the undead has failed.
"Let us test the strength of this human metal"
Null flexes and strains against the shackles, attempting to break them with sheer strength.
As both Tinn and Null struggle against the manacle, they find them to be quite secure. At the sound of the struggle, the door opens and one of the guards enters the room, padded club in hand. The other stands by the door, signal horn at the ready. "Quiet now, you, or I'll come in there and whack you a good one, you hear now?"
Looking at the guard. I try to see if he has keys for these manacles?
It's going to be hard busting out of this joint without a distraction.
Fantomos begins chewing on his gag, hoping that his sharp teeth will eventually chew through it so he can communicate with his fellow captives. Of course, there is still the issue of the mask. Normally he would be cool with this sort of thing, but not with this crowd... "Nom nom nom."
It seems these slaves know a little about working metal
Speaking to the guard in common,
"Have you ever seen a nightmare within a dream?"
A nightmare within a dream? What an odd thing to say. Although this one time, in paladin training...
"Gurgle cough hack pleh," The gag tasted like sweat and dried guard blood, but was slowly giving way to Fantomos's pointy teeth.
The guard waves the club threateningly at Null, "I'll show you a nightmare when I beat you into it, you keep this up. And you, stop making those grunts, ya hear?"
"Gulp," Fantomos has finished with his gag, but decides to remain silent. Not out of fear, but due to really bad memories from that last bondage party. Never trust a gnome in a gimp suit.
Obviously this guard needs to die. I will wait till he turns his back and try to free myself again.
Suddenly from outside comes Sergeant Blackerly and six of his goons. He comes up to the prison and bellows out while pointing at Tinn, “You there! That’s the scum! Get ‘em unshackled. If any of you makes trouble, they’ll earn a thrashing! Today’s your lucky day, scum. You’ve got a visitor. How you ever warranted such a fine lady is beyond me. Seems she wants to say good-bye. Now step lively. We wouldn’t want to keep her waiting.”
Tinn is led from the room and brought to a meeting room where he meets a hauntingly beautiful woman in a elegant black dress and a silken veil. Her hair is platinum white, with eyes a vibrant green. Eyes that clearly have been weeping. “Oh, dearest,” proclaims the unfamiliar woman. “I’m so relieved you’re alive!” She quickly turns to Tomas. “Could we please have a moment alone, good sir? For pity’s sake?” Tomas goes blank for a bit and then quickly agrees. “Of course, my lady. For you,’ tis no problem.”
As soon as the guards leave, Tiadora’s demeanor immediately changes. She drops all pretense of grief or concern. She is immediately all business.
“Have you forgotten me, dearest?” the unexpected visitor says with a smirk, dropping her pretense of grief. “Call me Tiadora. We possess a mutual friend who would like to meet you and your fellow cell-mates. Unfortunately, our friend is unwilling to visit you in your present rather shabby accommodations so it seems you must escape. Don’t be so dour. Just because it’s never been done before is no reason you can’t be the first.
“If you manage that, cross the moors on the outskirts of town. On the old Moor Road you’ll see a manor house with a single lantern burning in the second story. There our mutual friend waits. That is all I know. He did want me to give you this.”
She takes off her silken veil and wipes away a few fake tears with it.
“Something to remember me by, dearest.”
Hmmm this seems odd.
After the gag is remove, I roughly say to the others.
"This one doesn't seem himself