Triss sits up slowly after he removes the gag. "T..thanks Adrien." she gazes lost in thought. "He was like the rest of them. So full of hate without ever even knowing." she sighs and watches Adrien and Ozz work on the pin as the night rolls on.
Adrien remains crouched on his haunches, watching her.
"You okay?" He asks cautiously.
When she gazes off, lost in thought, he turns her chin to face him again.
"For every one of you, there's a hundred other Drow undoing your work. You're fighting an uphill battle, Triss, but it's a worthwhile one even so. Behind you, all along the road you walk, are people who will remember you when others speak ill of the Drow, even if they see another Drow commit some evil, they'll know that at least one of your kind is gentle and beautiful. It's not much, but it's enough."
A sharp contrast from the bondage joke a breath earlier, yet somehow both sides are equally Adrien Cavell.
He works with renewed determination on the lockpick, keeping calm and his head cleared by Trissae's quiet singing.
At first it was likely pride that made him provoke their captors, but once he learned that they would be executed in order of best behavior, he had to give his friends as much time as possible--by cutting to the front of the line. Adrien would never admit to it, and he'd much rather help them all escape than become a martyr, but if everything fails, he'd die for them.
"F$&+ing hold it still Ozz, your fat g#~~!#n sausage fingers--do you have any idea how precise this is?"
Trissae smiles lightly. The small things always mattered a lot to her, and Adrien did well to remind her of her plight and its value.
She sings quietly for a bit, not to alert the authorities. Afterward when Adrien barks at Ozz she stops the two of them and gives each a small hug, as best she can with bound hands.
"If you're damn human eyes weren't so weak..." Ozz mutters back, easily keeping the manacles steady.
Adrien mutters but has no retort.
Trissae's hug makes him a bit embarrassed.
The next two days are fairly uninteresting. Lord Frostheight and his aids seem to have locked themselves in their carriage during rests, leaving the handling of you to Captain Wen. He and a few men usher you back and forth from the wagons, give you food, guard you as closely as a treasured relic, and generally don't give you a bit of privacy outside of the carriage.
Captain Wen makes a strange sort of contrast to Lord Frostheight. Where Myer Frostheight was a facade of congeniality covering negative emotions (at least when dealing with Trissae), Tibalt Wen, the descendant of immigrants from Thay, is on surface a thoroughly unlikable man; strict, harrying, uncomfortably watchful, and utterly insulting. Nearly every third word from his mouth either profanes the Gods or is obscene to men. Any conversation directed at him or his men is met with a kick from his eternally burdened mount (who receives equal verbal abuse from its rider), or a slap from a spear butt followed by an answer or response of sorts, interpretation withstanding.
The rest of the time you are stuffed in the confined carriage as it bounces itself down the road at an uncomfortable pace, trying to make Yartar Quickly. With the devotion of purpose not limited to an almost certain execution, the three of you pour effort into shaping the belt pin into something you can use on simple locks. You do this with great successes. So much so, that instead of turning out to be a simple improvised tool meant to provide only the bare minimum of functionality, the small pin progresses to a point where the shape and size of it is so precisely matched to the application of these manacles that it would do so as well as a tool built while NOT under duress and with a proper shop to craft it in.
Evening of the last day you ride into town, the men pushing extra hard to finish their mission.
You are driven through the city streets for a short while until you pass into a gated and guarded area, walled up and self enclosed within the city. It appears to be part training ground, part prison, and part stables. The Shield Tower, home to the 150 mounted guards of Yartar. Your carriage is thrown open after being unlocked and the three of you are taken by Captain Wen and some men toward your cells.
"We'll just get you out of your f**&ing bogshark rags and into some godsdamned respectable uniforms. You'll love them, they'll let people notice what outrageous f$*@ing bastards the lot of you are. After that, I'll throw your worthless asses into some cold, stone homes and let you think about your spacious surroundings and incredibly noxious personal hygienes until you cry yourselves to sleep. Expect to have Auril-kissed-waters poured over your ugly f@@&ing faces at first light, and we'll put you to work for once in your gods damned lives."
Trissae is cordial if quiet with Captain Wen, her personality much subdued after Frostheight's outburst.
After a bit of time with Wen she eases a bit on her reserved nature and shares a bit of insight on how they managed to elude him for so long. She also explains to him what she explained to Frostheight in defense of their actions and inquires which of the others survived the ambush.
The rest of the trip she spends most of her time singing small songs or recalling tales of her companions feats to bolster her friends' moral. At night when she thinks they are asleep she says small prayers to Eilistraee for guidance and protection.
Once they've arrived at Yartar Trissae gazes in a sort of wonderlust at the town they had for so long been the bane of. The wonderlust turns to concern as Captain Wen bellows, as she's learned he's not a man much for overstatement.
As they journey to the city, Adrien makes a point of occasionally pickpocketing little trinkets off the guards, tripping them when the opportunity rises, making disparaging remarks about them, and overall being a nuisance.
With Wen, however, he continues to be respectful, answering most of his questions but being evasive on the Bogshark's most successful tactics, trying to use them as leverage to get some sparring out of the man.
The night the lockpick is finished, he holds it up in Trissae's dancing light. "It's... actually rather quality. If I had more tools like this I could get into just about anything. As it is, I'll only be able to open our manacles," he flashes a smile, briefly.
"I haven't thought of a way out of this though--anyone? As it stands, we may have to wait until we're in the city. Which complicates things, but may be easier. We'll need a rather elaborate plan, with this," he raises the pick slightly, "As one piece of it."
Once they arrive, Cavell eyes the city suspiciously while he listens to Wen. "Cold stone home, outrageous uniforms, spacious surroundings and incredibly noxious personal hygiene? You're making us Bogsharks feel right at home, Captain. Maybe try a tiny hearth-warmed wooden house and fancy clothes, that'll put us out of our element!"
You are led through the grounds and into the shield tower's side door, which appears to be the prison side. The door is guarded both inside and out, and looks rather secure. Inside is a short hallway, lantern lit, with a door on the right side and the far end. The door on the right has a barred window and formidable looking lock. One guard turns a key into it and allows Wen and the other guards to push the three of you into this room. The guards enter, locking the door behind them.
"Make this quick. Everything but your manacles on that side. Your self respect in a pile against that wall. You are allowed to keep your hope and good manners, the rest and f$!~ off and be discarded." Wen says while unlocking one arm, and one foot free to allow you to change. One of the guards is holding whitish linen clothes in a bundle in his arms, waiting for you lot to get rid of all your remaining possessions before he'll allow you to dress.
As Wen unlocks Ozz's foot, he'll attempt to knee the man in the face in an effort to grant Adrien enough of a distraction to gain advantage on his slight of hand check. Assuming I get advantage (Which I can since I'm the GM and can do so) since Wen is surprised, initiative not having yet been rolled for a fight, I'll roll twice.
Wen takes the blow on his cheek, falling back in surprise, two of the guards lower spear tips at Ozz, the other two not holding clothes lower theirs towards Adrien and Trissae for good measure, after a brief moment of surprised gawking.
Adrien mutters as they're led into the room, but doesn't say anything more. He lifts his shirt up over his head, deftly hiding the pick in his cheek again in the same smooth movement. When he can see again, the guards are pointing spears at Ozz. Seeing the tension in the room, he drops his trousers--underclothes and all. "Right, toss it. The uniform."
Trissae is aghast at the idea of stripping down in front of all these men, though more terrified of being undressed in front of Adrien and Ozz. Growing up in Drow culture, flesh was decadence, and it was one of the many traits she tried to doff as she came to the surface. Others sharks would note the efforts she'd put into dressing and bathing in private.
"I...but.. You..." she stutters a moment, and uses Ozz's distraction to slink into the corner, hoping to go unnoticed.
Captain Wen grins fiercely at Ozz, as he slowly stands up, looking at if he were about ready to fight the half-orc. Slowly, his expression fades.
"It is the date with the noose you now fight. Every blow against me is simply a blow against your own damned time left. You don't actually think you are getting out of this f~+~ing tomb, do you? By the gods, your pretty violences and thefts..." he says, looking over at Cavell. "... Do nothing but hurt yourselves. F%&~ if I care, but I'd imagine the lot of you cave-dwelling, swamp-drinking bastards would have more sense than this."
He raises a hand, and the men lower their spears. At this time he notices Triss in the corner, and after a moment of shock, spits on the ground, intended for no one in particular. "Foehammer take me, a spider-lover with modesty."
Allowing Ozz and Cavell to dress themselves entirely in a shoeless, gloveless, pocketless, warm but dirty and stained white outfit, Captain Wen has three of the men escort you back out of the room and then waits for Trissae to finish. "By Tempus and Tymora, you understand it's my duty. Get on with it." He is almost gentle in voice as he makes this demand of her, uncomfortable but resolved to do his job proper.
Ozz and Adrien and led back outside and down a small, stone staircase beneath the tower to a basement dungeon. A single strong, barred-window door opens into a mostly dark room, a single large cell. The guards walk you in and shut the door behind you. Only the light from the flickering torch in the stairwell provides any illumination.
"Oy... Keep it down, ya?" a groggy voice mutters from the darkness of the cell as the door slams shut and locks.
Triss sighs dejectedly and gives into Wen's demands after he has the other men escorted. After her shackle is unlocked she turns her back to him to undress then dresses into the plain linens. She fidgets with them and turns to Wen with her old outfit folded in her arms to hand over.
"Thank you sir.." she says as she hands the outfit over and holds her hands out to be locked again before being lead away. As they walk she continues to fidget and adjust the clothes quietly.
Bloody nosed from Ozz's attack, Wen nods to his men who unlock the door and begin to lead you out. Wen grabs your arm before you have left the room, leaving just you and he in it.
Quietly, but calmly he speaks to you while maintaining eye contact.
"You know Lord Frostheight's game, his plan. I intend to perform my duties and report honestly about difficulties presented by you and your friends. What he does with the information at that point is up to him."
He pauses briefly, trying to get a read on you.
"Lord Frostheight will consider your being a drow an automatic difficulty you have presented. You already have a mark against you. He has his reasons for why he feels this way... Not that I agree with him, mind. You should expect yourself to be bumped up his list for that alone. Give him any additional excuses for him to use and you might just find your neck in the noose beyond the others next week, bloodied noses ignored." This has been the longest you have ever heard Wen speak without profanity. He waits for a reaction of some kind to show him that his warning has been absorbed.
When Trissae looks embarrassed to be stripping, Cavell says, "Sorry Triss--" the rest of his sentence was probably going to be a flirtatious joke, but he trails off, leaving it at that.
As the guards lead the two out, but Trissae is left alone with the captain in the dark cell, Cavell suddenly resists, twisting free from his captor and taking a half-step towards Wen threateningly--but when he meets eyes with the captain the tension eases out of his posture and his fists unclench, apparently reassured. He grunts as the guards haul him away with renewed enthusiasm, but says nothing. No smart-ass quips.
Trissae listens to Wen, at first startled but then with determination in her eye, when he finishes she cuts in with a low tone.
"By rights you are our hunter and us -your- quarry. I'll sooner give you reason to cut me down then let him hang me like a dog to appease his deprave appetite for torment."
She nods slowly at his warning. A clearly inquisitive glimmer crosses her face as if to ask something but she shakes her head not wishing to push the captain's good graces any further.
"I will try to be the model prisoner for you sir, I cannot promise for my companions but, I will try my best to keep them under control.. for both our sakes." She says with a light smile before being lead to her companions.
Captain Wen nods at you slowly, letting go of your arm. "Good. Now get to your new f~~&ing home, you gods damned nuisance." The other guards lead you to the same dark cell that has a windowed door that looks upon the stairway down and dark sky.
"Not a-f~&$ing-gain," complains an exhausted voice from the dark. "Some of us are trying to die in peace over here.
The room appears to already be occupied, at least a dark corner of it is, by a lump of a figure in white linens.
Ozz will ignore the voice, nod reassured at Trissae when she comes in, and then lay down flat somewhere and try to sleep.
Cavell laughs, "Die in peace? How many do you think die in peace? Old rich merchants in their silk beds?"
He walks along the wall of the cell, looking for weak points, openings, or other things to make future note of.
As he walks, "Anyway, worry not my new friend, they plan to hang us in not too long of time. The price of banditry, I'm afraid. Exciting though, isn't it? I'm Cavell, this is Triss and Ozz."
It was odd at first that Adrien might introduce himself as 'Adrien Cavell' with a strong flourishing 'ell' at the end, but when using his last name as a casual nickname, he always pronounced it 'Cavel', like gavel or gravel. Just a quirk of his personality.
Trissae smiles when she sees her friends, adjusting the uncomfortable and slightly wrong sized shirt, while stepping into the room.
"Adrien! Your tone was entirely too eager back there." She says warningly but also lightheartedly.
She makes note of the figure in the corner and walks over. "Who do we have here?" She says in a low tone to the lump of a figure.
The lump shifts and scratches itself, and turns toward you, chains chinking softly against stone as it does so. A pock-scarred and dirty dwarvern face blinks annoyed back towards you. This dwarf is shabby by even prisoner standards. It as if someone had searched long and far to find the poorest, grimiest, trashiest dwarf and then asked to be shown their ugly friend. Blackened teeth, pock scars, greasy unkempt hair a beard, and breath that could kill at range answers your curiosity with a tired frustration.
"If'n it all be thuh same to ye both,"[b] he begins in a rapid fire, and rancid tongued cadence. [b]"Thuh name be Tease, and that'll be a good enough start 'til sunrise. If'n ye be dead by then, well I'll have saved some breath fer the lot of us, ya?" His manner of speech is as if a copperless, low-born peasant had been living especially meager for most of his life. His social graces would be counted in negatives.
Wiping the snot from his nose with a filthy sleeve, he begins the process of rolling back over, away toward from the light.
Voices of guards can be heard coming in through the window.
Cavell does his best to sound hurt, "Eager to see a lovely, athletic, beauty strip nude? That doesn't sound like me at all--I am wounded by your accusation m'lady," partway through his little drama he begins examining the cell door and lock, brows furrowed in thought. He stops, listening to the faint voices.
He whispers, "They're putting our belongings into storage."
After spitting the lockpick into his palm, he tests it on the cell door, feeling out the pins, whispering again, "I'll definitely need something else to open this. Nothing as fancy as our exquisite handmade pick though, just thin and strong enough to apply pressure to the cylinder."
Walking back to Trissae, he says, "So keep your eyes open. You too Ozz." He gestures down at her manacles. "I can probably get those off, if you want to do your routine. Just have to put them back on if a guard comes, and before you shut-eye."
Ozz waves lazily at you, his sign that he is going to get some sleep and is no longer participating in whatever game, argument, planning is going on around him. Many times have you seen his lazy wave, more like a shooing gesture, besides a fire in one of the Bogshark's hideouts.
She looks to Adrien and in a low tone she whispers. "Let's go ahead and lay low tonight, scope out the town tomorrow. The only thing is, we need to find a way to get my disguise kit and at least one of my instruments and hide them somehow."
She then offers up her hands for him to unlock the shackles, after days in the carriages she's been dying to get some practice in.
Adrien nods slightly, weariness showing through a brief crack in his composure, "Good, tomorrow, it's a plan."
He rubs his face then runs his fingers up through his hair, "Alright, let's give these manacles a shot."
Cavell works on the lock for nearly a half hour, exhaustion showing more visibly as time passes, and he begins to get frustrated.
Finally there's a distinct click from inside the lock, and the manacles open. Adrien hangs his head in relief as he sighs deeply, which turns into a weary chuckle. "I think I need to sleep, as much as I'd like to watch your routine. And I'm going to have nightmares about these damned manacles."
He stretches stiff muscles and walks a few paces to the wall, away from the 'fragrant' prisoner, and lays down, turning on his side and using his arm as a pillow.
Cavell stands suddenly, pick held tightly in one hand. He mutters, "F!@%ing, godsdamned, c@&+ f$*&ing s!+!. I'm going to sleep," and walks a few paces to the wall, away from the 'fragrant' prisoner, and lays down, turning on his side and using his arm as a pillow.
After a long moment of silence, when you think Cavell is asleep, he says quietly, "Sorry Triss."
The night was cool and mostly uncomfortable. The Bogsharks are no strangers to roughing it, but they usually at least have a bedroll or some hay to separate them from the cold stone floors of their caves, and a fire to ward off the cold. Chill winds blow in from the cell window from the autumn outside, and sounds of horses and rider coming and going, and watches calling out becomes the background noises of night at the Shield Tower.
Manacles relocked, and pick stored in Adrien's cheek. From the beating at the hands of Farlyse the other day, Adrien's face is puffy enough that he can safely store the pick in his mouth without suspicion, talking with a bit of an impediment would be expected.
The door unlocks at first light, far too early for any non-elves to have gotten enough sleep since the caravan pushed hard through some of the night to get back to Yartar. Several guards enter the cell, and with the quickness of practice, upturns a chilling bucket of water over each inmate. ()
Apparently Captain Wen wasn't kidding when he mentioned the Auril-Kissed-Waters. It is chilling.
"Alright you lot. I'm Sargent Dianne Silvers," comes a piercing, sing-songy voice from under a Helmet and armor. Blue eyes gaze at you merrily from a handsome woman's face, another human officer. "Captain Wen has left your orientation to me, as he is getting a much needed day off and rest in a warm bed."
"Oy, fekk off, will ye, Silvers?!" Comes the harassed voice of the soaking Tease.
"Oh Tease! Teasey teasey. If you wanted to get a full night's sleep, you have to get your work done quicker!" She laughs. "Bogsharks, Meet Tease, the most wretched of our long-term guests. He'll be joining you on your community service duties, or rather, you'll be joining him. Now, get up, get up. Let's get you warmed and fed before we march the lot of you out into the streets and get to work."
She gestures toward the open cell doors, and walks out them and up the stairs. From outside, you can see the bright sunlight on an early morning. The sounds of many soldiers, horses, and chirping birds is drowned out by rattling chains from something Silvers is doing just out of sight at the top of the stairs.
"ARRGH!" Ozz bellows as he is doused by the chilling water. He rolls quickly to his feet and for a second looks as if he is about to attack the man, but with a quick look around the room and its armed inhabitants, decides to simply glare maliciously at the man instead.
Gasping and panting awake, Cavell stands quickly, wiping at his eyes. He mutters under his breath, exhausted still.
He forces a smile on his soaked face, "Great, I'm starving. What's for breakfast, something fit for kings I imagine? Maybe a massage to go with it--do you prefer Dianne, or Silvers?"
Wishing he felt as chipper as he sounded, he wonders how difficult it will be to eat alongside the lockpick.
Triss dances whimsically to her feet, avoiding the rush of water and then bowing.
"Good morning!" She chimes. After the Sargent is finished She follows her out humming a tune.
"You'll have to forgive my friend, he has a weakness for pretty faces." She says with a smile to the woman.
The guards guide the four of you up the stairs and out into the warming morning sunlight. The Tower's yard is full of horses being led from the stables and patted down, fed, mounted, and ridden out of the gate near the tower itself in the east wall. Guards are everywhere, a lookout on the tower itself oversees the comings and goings of the compound, shouting the orders to open and close the gate.
Silvers is waiting next to a rather large horse with chain barding. "Silvers will do fine. This is Rascal. He outranks you," she says with a warning look broken by a return to a pleasant expression. "This way!"
She cheerily leads you to a small firepit near the dungeon stairs. Next to the fire is a jug of water, three half-loaves of bread, and a small bowl of stew. "You have twenty minutes to eat and warm up before we get to work."
The guards in the yard take notice of the four of you with an amused interest.
Cavell's eyes go from guard to guard, then up to the tower, making note of everything. He tried to keep his miserable mood hidden behind a cheery smile. "Ah you shouldn't have," he says as he eases down next to the fire and eats hungrily.
He notes the guards staring, and waves. "Work sounds so tedious, can't we all just play some cards? Surely you lot have a deck around here somewhere."
Then he looks to Trissae, "Feeling better? I see you avoided their wake-up call."
Shielding her eyes with her hands as they first step out into the tower yard and holding them there while they listen to the instruction. She follows quietly but confidently as they make their way to the eating area and sit.
"Elves do not need wake up calls." she says in an almost pompous tone. She stares monetarily at the meal and fire and then breaks from the trance.
"Ozz, Adrien, you two split the stew. You'll have need of it as likely you'll be doing the more grueling tasks to come."
Her eyes dart from Ozz to Adrien. "Remember, polite or quiet. Choose one and use it today. We're scouting and we need everyone to be up to par." she puts a hand up to Adrien's puffy swollen cheek and shakes her head. Then turns her gaze to Ozz.
"I'll wager it's no coincidence they put the honey-dew lipped maiden guard as our taskmaster. Our caretaker wants all of Yartar to see what savages we are by contrast." It's clear by the tone in her voice she has spent much of her meditation contemplating their situation. A gleeful sneer creeps onto her face afterward and she takes a big bite from one of the half loaves.
"I will play the crowd should there be any." she says between chomps. "I will gauge the common man's fear of my kind, and sow doubt into their minds of the stories they've been told. More over, I shall weave a tapestry of song and tale that will endear the Bogsharks to them. We will find allies in this place I am sure." She shoots Adrien a fiery glance, one he'd recognize from many of her performances to distract. "Time to go to work..."
With the bit of remaining time she gets up and winks over toward some guards who take notice and begins to 'warm up' by doing her pre-routine stretches, those that she can while in manacles, and quickly grabbing some water afterward.
"Bogsharks, eh?" Tease questions between slow, deliberate bites of his food.
"I heard of yer lot. Causin' all sorts of stress to thuh merchants tryin'a get to Everlund and beyond, and not jus' thuh honest ones. 'Should we pick up anny extra muscle, should we use a humble wagon so as to not attract their eye? Do they attack more durin' thuh winter or thuh fall?'
He swallows a well chewed bite of food and gestures at the three of you with the last chunk of bread before popping it into his mouth. "You've pissed people right off."
He chuckles, "They don't need much rest either. You look chipper." He glances at Ozz, trying to discern if the half-orc feels as bad as he does.
Cavell grins when she touches his cheek--a bit lopsided from the swelling. "I'm always polite, that was...an exception."
Shrugging, he says, quieter, "I'm not so sure Silver's here for contrast. I get the feeling she's good at her job. Maybe not as good as Wen, but don't underestimate her. Out of all these guards, she's the one I'm worried about."
"You're the master of working a crowd, I'll leave all that in your capable hands. Only bit of advice I can offer is that people love the underdog, the rebel, the charming rogue," he winks.
Raising his voice back to normal-level, "Bogsharks, that's right. Famous are we? I thought the merchants would be too embarrassed to tell their tales, but rumors do have a life of their own. Glad to hear it got their smallclothes in a bunch, that's half the fun of the job."
Finally taking a moment to really size-up Tease, he takes note of little habits and body-language.
"Tease, was it? What are you locked up for?"
"Oh... this and that, ya?" Tease says evasively.
Silvers, who had been tending to Rascal nearby, overhears this exchange and lets out a merry laugh.
"Believe it or not, my friend Tease here got put away for impersonating nobility. Quite well, too from what I understand. He got his exeution waved for ten years of community service!"
"Impersonating a noble, they must have been royally pissed when they found out. How'd they catch you? How long left on your sentence?"
Adrien splits the stew with Ozz, eating as he barrages Tease with questions.
"Lady Silvers, do you have a favored song or a regional specialty you'd like me to perform while we work? No reason we can't entertain while we work." Triss says with a smile, bending at the waist when she stretches.
She looks at Tease, genuinely impressed."Tease! you'll have to give me some pointers, I could always use some more practice in acting." She says with a chuckle.
"Nine years..." Tease mumbles sourly.
Sargent Silvers chimes in again. "Well, impersonating a noble was really only part of it. He almost successfully robbed some locals as part of his act."
Tease looks back and forth between the three of you, and Silvers. "Thuh original plan was ta convince some merchants that I had decent enough credit with local coin counters that they would be able ta take a missive from me and get thuh money fer all thuh stuff they handed over ta me. From there, we'd take thuh swag and go ta Everlund."
"But you didn't go to Everlund, did you?" Says Silvers, real amusement in her eyes as she goads Tease into telling more of the story.
"Of-f#&#ing-course not! Not with these a%$~!$!+s looking fer a tasty score! With all thuh work we did ta get thuh Goldengrasp house believed, if we went close ta thuh moors you'd better believe you damn sharks would've swept down and collected all thuh reward fer my hard work! Instead I took thuh heraldry down, turned thuh wagons back around after about a day, and came back through Yartar ta make Waterdeep."
He pauses for a long moment before continuing, his eyes on his hands. "By this time they had already tried ta exchange thuh missive. Never got through thuh citadel with the stolen goods..."
After Trissae's question, Silvers thinks for a moment and answers. "Shield's Honor would be cute!" She answers with a wink. Shield's Honor was a song adopted by the Shields of Yartar as it so appropriately describes the defense of others from ne'er-do-wells and monsters of the wilds.
Cavell listens attentively to the story, having already finished his half of the stew. He smirks at Silvers as she becomes more amused, beginning to understand why.
When Tease begins explaining why he got caught, a deep chuckle is building in Cavell's gut that grows slowly into boisterous laughter. "Either way you were getting robbed!" He keeps laughing, eventually wiping his eyes.
"Thanks for that, Gods," a short chuckle escapes. Adrien stands up and stretches; cheered, warm, and food in his belly. "Shield's Honor!" He grins at Triss, then raises his voice, empty soup bowl in hand as if it were a tankard. "A toast, to the bandit gang slightly less feared than us--The Shields!" He tosses the wooden bowl at the nearby cleaning stand, aiming for one of the wash barrels.
It bounces off the side of the barrel and lands next to some other dishes, clattering. Cavell doesn't pay it any mind.
"Hells, it seems like being so damn feared bit us in the arse though, didn't it? Maybe you Shields got it right." He grins at Silvers. "We should be working together, don't you think? You Shields decide which caravans can be guaranteed to arrive safely, let us know, and we'll split the premium merchants would pay for that luxury," He chuckles again. "A brotherhood of thieves!"
"My word Adrien, always with your scheming, it's as if Mask himself whispers in your ear for the glint in your eye." Trissae says as she walks toward the Sargent Silvers.
"Shield's Honor eh? You are indeed a woman of good taste." She says not knowing the particular significance but appreciating the woman's choice all the same.
"Perhaps you would care to join me, in the starting at least as I am a bit rusty with this one, and you have a lovely voice." The statement was not untrue, but there was a hint in Triss's voice that her friends would recognize. She often liked to sing with others as a sort of test of her own skills and she reveled in it.
Either way she begins to sing, allowing for a slow build up should Lady Silvers wish to join in.
Even Ozz cracks a smile at the dwarf's story of how fear of the Bogsharks screwed him over in the end. A bit of pride escapes behind his mask of general anger.
Some of the soldiers caring for horses, eating, or idling in the yard notice Adrien's toast. Some of these cheer, apparently just responding the his enthusiasm with similar, but oblivious energy. Some others notice what his toast actually consisted of and grow a sour look. Silvers just smiles, apparently unaffected by Cavell's antics.
"Oh no, I actually have a horrible singing voice!" Silvers says unabashedly. "Totally tone deaf, I'm afraid. If it helps you work, feel free to sing. Now hold still while I tie you to your friend here."
She has a couple of lengths of rope with her as she approaches Trissae and ties it around her waist with a sturdy knot. Leaving a bit over 10 feet of slack between her and Ozz, she approaches him and ties this end around his waist. "Scuse me, muscles."
"And you, mister entrepreneur. You get tied to Tease." She takes the other rope and ties you two together in a similar fashion.
Mounting Rascal, she whistles and six guards (a mix of cheerers, the offended, and non-committals) rank up and casually surround you in a unaggressive perimeter.
"If there are no other business propositions, let us be off!"
One of the guards (a cheerer) is softly singing along with Trissae.
"Honor's task of iron and wood
encircles our land for miles
for o'er the hills and forests we stood
and watched for the wicked whose ambitions could
reduce our homes to burned piles."
Tease mutters bitterly to himself as this all occurs. "Merchant King, save me..."
Adrien smiles quite smugly as Silvers gets in close to tie the rope around his waist. "Gentle darling."
"Well Teasey, I'm sure you'd much rather be tied to the lovely elven bard, and Tymora knows so would I, but it seems this is the hand we were dealt. Mind if I walk ahead of you? You've got a bit of an odor. No offense friend, I'm sure I will too by the end of today. They really don't let you have baths? That's just bad news for everyone, even the guards that have to smell us."
He walks with relaxed confidence, arms crossed, a smile still plastered on his face from the Story of Tease's Fall, looking around the new surroundings.
"What'd you do before all that, Teasey? Where'd you pick up those skills? Some kind of bard? Actor? Grow up in the slums maybe, little dwarven urchin child puttin' on a good sympathy show for coin?"
Cavell doesn't seem to care whether or not Tease answers him, enjoying the song and the walk. They'd been cooped up in carriages and prison cells for too long.
Triss gives Silvers a pouty face as she refuses but continues to sing. she does so quietly as she is rounded up with Ozz and then with the compliment of guards.
Once she realizes one of the fellows has caught the singing bug she gets more into it, setting them up for bits and getting a merry jaunt in her step as they are lead off.
"Ye got here on bath day." Tease mutters back to Adrien and then doesn't answer any more questions, uninterested in humoring his curiosity while being treated with little respect.
Silvers directs Tease and Cavell to drag a tool containing wagon behind them as they walk.
"Alright!" Silvers chimes at the guard overlooking the second floor balcony that overlooks the gate.
"Open the gate!" This guard shouts to the ones who only take orders from the balcony. Using a large key, they unlock the gates and pull them open allowing your group of 11 to leave the yard of the Shield Tower.
"Not every tool can take a blow
Not every man can stay awake"
As you empty out into the streets outside of the tower's grounds you are able to see more of the Yartar. Though probably not the first time for any of you in this town, it is as prisoners and you look upon it with a different perspective.
Large walls defend the city, encircling it completely except where the river fulfills this role. These crenelated walls are thick enough to support patrols on top of it and loom over all of the city except for the Shield Tower itself.
The tower is maybe 70 feet tall, several stories housed within a stone fortress speckled by windows on all but the lowest floors. The large yard houses many stables, as you've already seen, and its walls separates it from the rest of the city. The Tower has a strong inner wall and a crumbling outer wall. The ring of bare ground between them has pit traps, and rubbish, Outside the wall are paddocks for caravans, and drovers selling horses and livestock.
As you slowly make your way eastward on the streets, you get a glimpse of the local church behind you. The Happy Hall of Fortuitous Happenstance is built like a fortress of grim, forbidding stone, its arched windows look down on the town from the temple’s own small hillock and seems to watch you as you walk away from it.
"Not any virtue can bestow
The honor earned with sturdy bow
As the watchful who never break"
You get to an area not far away () with a bunch of shattered or overturned bricks in the street. In the back of the wagon you do notice bricks and tools that are clearly to be used with repairing this street. About a 100 foot length of road seems to be in pretty poor repair.
"Make it look nice now, I'll be keeping an eye on the aesthetics. Tease started this yesterday, so you can learn from his mistakes already made." Silvers says in a sunny sing-song and Tease begins to show you how it's done.