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 Mitra and his chosen mortal vassals.
Condemned, you face at best a life of shackles and servitude in the nearby salt mines. Others might await the “gentle” ministrations of the inquisitors so that co-conspirators may be revealed and confessions extracted. Perhaps, some of you will be spared this ordeal. Perhaps instead you have come to Branderscar to face the final judgment. In three days, the executioner arrives and the axe falls or the pyre will be lit. Through fire or steel, your crimes will be answered.
You have all been chained together in the same communal cell dressed in nothing but filthy, tattered rags. Manhandled and mistreated, any finery
you once possessed is either ruined or long lost. No special treatment has been given any prisoner – male or female, commoner or noble – all of the forsaken are bound and imprisoned together. Your feet are secured by iron cuffs tethered by one long chain. Your arms are secured to the wall above by manacles. A guard is posted right outside the cell day and night. Little thought is given to long term accommodations. At Branderscar, justice comes swift and sure.
Escape seems hopeless. You have all been well searched and every attempt to conceal anything on your person has failed. And if you could somehow slip your bonds and fly out of this prison, where would you go? Who from your former life would want anything to do with the forsaken? Despised, alone and shackled – all that you can do now is await your doom.
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?
"HEY YOU GAVE ME THE WRONG LETTER. M. IT'S AN M, FOR MARIUS!" Laughing wildly, Marius slumps back in to his bonds, before staring around the cell. "Well... The Kings Suite has seen better days..." Sighing, he begins to tug at the manacles.
'Bastards will burn for this, every last one of em. The Jester shall be avenged. I'll gut the world to do it!'
"Oi... You, at the end! That pig ugly Guard still out there?"
At the end of the line sits the newest arrival to the cell, a man tanned as though by a sun from another plane, or perhaps the fires of the Hells. His rags do little to hide his exquisite physical form, nor do they interrupt the tattoos that run down his arms. From elbow to wrist, and down each index finger, long and sinuous black lines circle about his limbs. Occasionally, a line stops it progress to form alien characters before resuming its course downward. Those who know the language of the devils would see the words 'Hate, Blood, Fury' spelled out on each arm, the final character etched into the back of the man's strong hands.
Sighing in consternation, the man answers back in a low tone that seems to speak to a hard-bitten life. "Which one? I had thought them all rather piggish myself."
Who cares about a few guards? The real enemy isn't anywhere near here. Not like I could do anything about it right now. My kit was taken from me, and they've likely recovered the gun too. Those damn Darius bastards are going to rise to the top of the world with MY family's secrets!
Tall and lithe, Devon would be handsome, but for the seemingly permanent contemptuous sneer that graces his face. That, and a biting sarcasm that he uses to demean those he considers weak, make him a less than likable fellow. He does not hesitate to show his disdain for the prisoners that are despondent over their condition, lashing out at whimperers or those that beg for mercy.
"Mercy! Hah! You are a worm, worth nothing. If you aren't strong enough to meet your fate like a man, you should rejoice that they are ending your miserable, useless life!" Devon says to a neighboring prisoner that is bemoaning his fate.
Devon glances towards Marius as he has his outburst and gives him a somewhat begrudging nod of respect.
Marius laughs softly and nods. "Aye that they did stranger. Every last one of em with the stench of hog on em. Pigs for the slaughter and nothing more. They'll get theirs..." He slips in to sullen silence for a moment, his thoughts turning to revenge, as usual.
"All poor Marius did was dandle a few Lady's on his knee, that and nothing else..." Sighing softly, he drops his head back against the wall once more. "Wasn't my fault they was kidnapped and on the way to a slavers market at the time!" Laughing softly he grinned at the prisoner opposite him, a rough looking young woman with lank black hair.
"You ain't no lady, that's for sure but I might try a grope if me hands were free!" Laughing softly he looks to his left and right then shrugs. "Then again I'd grope anything if me hands were free right now. Even one of them fat piggy guards. Grope em while I slit their throats!"
Anchoring the chained group is the veteran of the cell, Dantes the dwarf. He glances up at the newcomers making noise. Save your strength and keep your eyes open. They've been making noise about sending me to the salt mines for a week now, but they still haven't acted on it. They just keep bringing more of you in and chaining you up to me.
The memories flood back into Lyrysa's head. The attack on her home by the church of Mitra. Her stepfather's death at one of their holy warriors. Her subsequent trial. She knew the punishment's for the crimes she had committed, but to actually be in that predicament, it was like another world.
The outburst of another prisoner brought her back into reality. How she must look now. Once she had long beautiful blond hair, flowing past her waist. They had hacked most of it off when she was escorted to this prison, and it had not been cleaned since the attack, covered in filfth and blood, matted in strands around her head covering her face. Protuding up from outside her hair her ears stood, showing her elven heritage. The fine gowns she used to repair replaced with prison rags. Insufferable treatment.
During the trial she had reflexively fallen into her stepfathers training. She was just a mere pawn being used, another slave. Many were convinced, but alas the judge was not. Her heart had not been in the attempt, still in despair.
Now her heart was in this. These people had taken everything from her. Her home, her stepfather, her freedom, and now intended to take her life. She would have vengeance against them all. Not kiling them, no that was too easy. She would bend them to her will, make them her prisoner's in their own bodies. But first to escape.
She scanned the cell, examining her cellmates, as she was taught when buying slaves. Half the people in this room would've broke in less than a week under my stepfather's care. But we do have a few choice selections. Something to work with. Now an opportunity is needed, watch and wait.
The tall lean man opens his eyes with a long, slow exhalation. He calmly observes the chaos occurring around him with a keen eye, studying those around him and analyzing their responses.
Those that manage to make eye contact with him are more than a little startled at what they find looking back at them, deep pools of inky blackness full the sockets of eyes dominated by vaguely luminescent rings of deep violet.
His handsome face expressionless, even wearing nothing but filthy rags, he seemed draped in shadow, as if they clung to him for comfort.
"That will end soon.The time they think they have is an illusion."
Laughing softly, Marius grins down the line at the Dwarf, to which they are changed. "Well aren't we a mixed group? A Dwarf old timer, a group of ragged criminals, a Pirate Prince, and..." Looking toward Ezekiel at the top of the line, Marius arches an eyebrow. "You, at the end, what has you here? What has all of you here in the Royal Suite?"
A man to his left begins to speak, through his sniveling. Marius cuts him off with a rough bark of laughter.
"I was talking to the people here, not you you wretched dog. If'n I could get to ya I'd give ya something to snivel about. Bite your tongue pup and let the men speak!" Marius leers towards where Lyrysa sits. "Or the women!"
Laughing softly, Marius sighs, turning to look at the Dwarf. "Or you oldster?"
Ezekiel smiles slowly, a hint predatory pleasure in his eyes. "I tried to kill the king." He chuckles under his breath. "Not quite as romantic as being the last great pirate, but I'll bet I top the broadsheets tomorrow."
"Oh I bet you will... The set on you. Big brassy ones to try kill the king!" Marius laughs softly, shaking his head with a bemused smile. "I bet you'd love another shot hmm? I just bet you would!" Sighing, Marius shakes his head in wonderment.
'I'd like me own shot and all, that I would!'
Attempting to assassinate the king? Interesting. Ambition, stupidity, sickness of the mind? He may be of use.
Lyrysa speaks in a quiet voice, eyes peering between the strands of hair on her face. "So what went wrong with your plan? The king is not dead, at least as far as I know."
"What brings the downfall of any great plan? I trusted in a fool. He's most likely resting elsewhere in here. He altered the function of my weaponry sufficiently to cause failure during its firing. Had it functioned as intended, the king would be very much dead."
"A pity. His death would have been the beginning of great change for this kingdom. Mayhaps the next attempt will be more successful."
"His death would have bought little change, unless their was someone sympathetic to people such as us, in a position to take over after it had happened!" Marius speaks softly, a thoughtful look crossing his face, finally showcasing the fact that he is not just a pretty face and a crass thug, but that he can be serious when he needs to.
Slevin has no intention of sitting in this hole waiting for the executioner, and his insticts tell him Shar may have sent him exactly what he needs. He remains quiet, studying each of those who stands out from the average whimpering simpleton, accessing their talents.
The quiet one in the shadows merely observes and listens as the man shares his story.
A group of six guards, each heavily armed with multiple weapons and heavy armor, approach the cell, with Sergeant Thomas Blackerly at their head. Each of you recognizes Blackerly. He was the man who held the brand that marked you as Forsaken. He laughed as your flesh burned.
The Sergeant steps forward and opens the door of the cell, having his men walk in before him and then following. "You there." He says to Slevin with a sneer. "He's the one. Get him unshackled." He says to his men, with a flick of his head, then looks around. "Any of you gives us any trouble you'll get a thorough thrashing."
"Today's your lucky day scum," Blackerly says as Slevin is dragged out of his manacles. "You've got a visitor. How you warranted such a fine lady is beyond me, but seems she wants to say goodbye." He motions with his head to walk ahead of the men. "Step lively. Wouldn't want to keep her waiting for you."
Slevin is aware of no one who would come to visit him.
Interesting.
Laughing softly, Marius throws a wink at the guard, as he begins to undo Slevin's manacles. Sighing softly, he clicks his tongue in thought.
'I wonder what this is about...?'
Ezekiel laughs as the guards escort Slevin from the cell. "I don't think that this visitor is going to be anything good for that one. What kind of people are associated with criminals such as ourselves? We certainly aren't the type of people to have friends to visit us here."
Slevin tilt his head to the side as if trying to determine if the guards are setting a trap then shrugs at the manacles are removed, standing tall, a man obviously unbroken by his incarceration.
"Well then, shall we proceed? It wouldn't be polite to keep her waiting."
"Well unless this visitor is holding an axe and wearing a hood I am sure he will be fine!" Marius shrugged to loosen his shoulders, frowning up at his manacles. "Ya know... If I had a sliver of metal or something I might be able to pick this. That or wriggle out of it... Then I'd need help..." He shrugs and looks at Ezekiel.
"If I got free and opened them manacles would ya help or kill me?" He laughed softly the sighed. "Doesn't matter I suppose. Ain't got a pick..."
Slevin is escorted roughly down the hall and up a short flight of stairs, then pushed into a small wooden chair. In the little interrogation room there is little decoration. Only two chairs, a wooden table, and a burning candle atop the table. Across from the inquisitor is a hauntingly beautiful woman in a black dress, dressed as though for mourning. Her hair, so platinum as to almost be white, falls luxuriously around her bright, piercing green eyes, peeking over a white silken veil.
"Oh Dearest!" The stranger proclaims loudly. "I'm so relieved to see you alive." She turns awkwardly to face the guard sergeant. "Please Sir Blackerly, can we have a moment alone? I need to talk to my dearest one last time."
Tomas Blackerly seems to go blank for a moment, then nods. "Of course milady. I will be right outside the door should you need anything."
As soon as the guard leaves the woman's whole attitude changes. "Have you forgotten me, my dearest?" She asks with a knowing smirk as she drops her pretense at grief. "Call me Tiadora. We possess a mutual friend who would like to meet you and your cell-mates. Those you deem worth him meeting anyhow. Unfortunately my friend simply will not come down to meet you in your current... rather shabby accommodations."
Dantes listens to the stories quietly. When the guards come, Dantes perks up, his eyes taking in all that happens, watching closely.
After they leave with Slevin, he comments to Rose Lockpicks, eh? If could reach you, I could snap the bones in your fingers until a workable shard broke through the skin. But you know... he pulls the chains around his wrists taut, showing that he can't reach him. He grins to show that he's probably kidding. Keep your eyes open; an opportunity may yet present itself. Maybe when they bring him back. You know, if they bring him back.
Marius laughs softly, grinning at the Dwarf. "I'd gladly let you snap my fingers if it got me out of here. I'd give ya a kiss and all for it. The beard wouldn't bother me. I've bedded a Dwarf woman before!" He laughs softly, shaking his head and sighing.
"I'll do what you said Master Dwarf. Thank you for the tip!" Clicking his teeth against the roof of his mouth, Marius settles down to wait.
The beard wouldn't bother me. I've bedded a Dwarf woman before!"[/b]
Ah, a man of distinguished tastes. Then maybe you are tough enough to work with finger-bone lock picks.
After that exchange, Dantes seems more forthcoming to the others. I'm Dantes. I'm in here for theft. Its funny, cause of all the things I've done that these Mitra-kissers would look down their nose at, theft is probably the least of them!
Marius looks over at Dantes and nods politely. "Marius Freyd. People call me the Bloody Rose. I'm in for theft too. Well... Theft with a ship. So Piracy..." Marius grins, looking down at his feet and nodding his head softly.
"I'm the last of the Silent Jester. Not that their is a Silent Jester any more..." Marius grabs the ragged end of his shirt sleeve, with his teeth, and pulls it down his arm, to expose a tattoo on his inner wrist, of a Rose, its stem covered by a Jesters mask with no mouth. "Got this when I became the second in command!" He barks a rough laugh. "Guess I am first now!"
"How could I ever forget you?" Slevin replies with a smile.
He looks around, taking in the room.His face showing a wariness.
Then I suppose we need to make me presentable."
Gary McBride
Fire Mountain Games
"Not quite darling." Tiadora keeps smiling. "Instead, you'll have to escape and meet him somewhere nicer." She giggles at your look. "Don't be so dour. Just because it's never been done doesn't make it impossible. 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. Our mutual friend will be waiting there. That's all I know. Here." She removes her silken veil and presses it into Slevin's hand. "Something to remember me by, my dearest."
sense motive first time
Devon glares at the guards and listens to the byplay of the others. He watches the guards carefully and hopes in vain for one of them to make a mistake and get within his reach.
Slevin smiles back, taking the veil in hand, his mind racing at the possibilities and the challenge that lay ahead.
"I look forwaard to it with great anticipation."
He grins, leaning further forward and dropping his voice, "Why do I get the feeling this will prove quite memorable indeed?" he says as he palms the veil.
Her message delivered, Tiadora rises, and then knocks on the door. The Sergeant enters once again and Tiadora's face is suddenly the picture of grief once more. "Oh I just can't bear to leave you!" She says as she leans over to kiss Slevin on the cheek. Her kiss is cold, alien and odd. Thomas shakes his head at her. "I'm afraid it's time to leave miss." Tiadora stands and looks deeply into Thomas's eyes. "Thank you for letting me say goodbye. You're a good friend Sir. There's no need to search my dearest now." Thomas stands slack-jawed for a moment. "Such a good friend." He repeats mechanically. Then snaps out of it and bows politely. "It's been a pleasure madame."
As she leaves, unveiled, Tiadora turns to look into Slevin's eyes. Three days, comes an echo in his mind, as if from his own thoughts, Don't disappoint my dearest. The guards calmly escort Slevin back into his cell and rechain him with the others.
Ezekiel snorts with amusement. "If you get me out of here, I would certainly place killing you far from my mind, at least so long as you don't try to cross me." Shrugging his shoulders as best he is able while in shackles, the man smiles. "Ezekiel Aumarch. My family once had great station in this land, back before House Darius gained the throne. Now, we are merchants and mercenaries across the sea. Few of them care what happens to this Mitra-blighted land anymore, but let's say that I, at least, follow in my ancestors' footsteps. A pleasure to meet such distinguished antagonists of our dear King Darius."
"Cross you?" Marius laughed softly, shaking his head. "Never fear that. There might not be any honor among thieves but murderers? That's a different kettle of fish all together..."
As Slevin is lead back in to the Cell, Marius perks up, sitting forward eagerly. "Well your head is still attached. That's good at least..." Nodding, he shrugged his shoulders softly and wiggled his wrists in the manacles a little. "We just ordered dinner. Hope Duck suits?" Marius turns to the guard outside the cell and begins to speak. "Oh waiter, yes, you! Good. Another order of the duck please and your finest bottle of wine. That's a good man!"
The Guard makes a rude gesture at Marius, who begins to laugh, before moving back to his spot.
"Pigs... Ripe for the slaughter!" He begins to twist at his manacles in earnest this time, seeking to slip free.
While Marius feels as if he almost gets free he can't quite manage. You get the feeling it would take much luck combined with lots of skill to slip out. You notice the manacles are rather old and rusted, and could perhaps be broken, though that would likely be very noisy.
As the guards leave, Slevin produces the palmed silken veil, shaking it out and studying it intently.
The flimsy piece of fabric, upon closer inspection, has a few very small, sewn on patches outlining several items. You've heard of such things, and in most cases the patches will become the item when removed.
A lantern
Rope
A Sack with an Arcane Sigil
Lockpicks
Window
Vial
Bag of Gold
Unholy Symbol of Asmodeus
Dantes watches with interest as Slevin returns. For a moment he watches as Slevin examines the cloth. Then he turns his gaze to the door with its single guard. He keeps a unflinching close watch for any sign that they are drawing the attention of others outsid ethe cell.
Slevin regards his cellmates, his face expresionless, he speaks in a raspy whisper, his tone as nonchalant as if discussing the weather.
"So who's skilled at picking locks?"
Ezekiel raises an eyebrow at the brashness of asking such a question with guards about. "Certainly not I. So, how did your visit go? Anything interesting to learn?"
"Blackerly's a damned thief. I swear the cards was rigged last night." One of the guards says to the other, hitching at his pants.
"If it's rigged why keep going back to the gatehouse?" The thinner guard says sensibly.
"Ale's pretty good." The other remarks nonchalantly.
"If by interesting you mean that I'm getting out of here tonight then I suppose so.And If you happen to have the skills to make it worthwile, I may just have a few openings."
"Do you have a plan to deal with our doormen after the shackles are off?"
I only have a few spells, and no way to replenish them. But it's better than the headsmen.
Light – A firefly
Daze – A pinch of wood or similar substance
Sleep – fine sand or rose petals or a live cricket
Color Spray – Red, yellow and blue powder or sand
Let me know if you need any rolls or anything.
Marius grins and holds out a hand. "Give me the picks friend and I'll get us all out in the blink of an eye!"
Slevin nods, removing a patch from the silk veil, the strip of cloth changing in his hands to become a set of lockpicks that he hands to Marius with an easy stretch.
"If we have to, although I prefer stealth when possible. I've got a few more tricks up my sleeve."
Grinning broadly, Marius takes the picks and sets to work on the manacles.
'Thank the Divines I did not let that Dwarf snap my fingers...' Laughing softly to himself, he sets his mind back to the task, working slowly and quietly.
Marius begins to grow frustrated at his work and is soon to give up, when he hears a small click as his manacles fall off.