Velkuriss' cold blue eyes snap open. The big, brutish looking iksar looks around. He was back in the cell, stapled to the wall with chains and hooks. Not that it was a surprise to the shadowknight, not anymore. When they had been first captured, he had been shocked that the two continued draw breath. The shadowknight would have expected them to be used for in a necromancer's experiment. The fact that were allowed to live meant something. Some sort of political game, was what Velkuriss had thought at the time. The spirits only knew how long ago that was.
Methodically, Velkuriss goes about testing his bonds, looking for any weak points. Not that he had found any yet, but his captors would slip up eventually. And when they did, he would be ready to take advantage of their mistake.
Sagging in his chains, the ash-grey iksar's muzzle twists in a grimace. Several metal bands encircled his snout. He had torn out the throat of one his attacks during the ambush. Velkuriss had woken after the attack with it on. He could open his muzzle wide enough to eat gruel and that was about it.
Thinking about the ambush once more, Velkuriss had to give his jailers some credit. Their timing had been perfect. The two had just turned over the heart to the Overlord. Filled with pride, he and Kspress had just left and where getting ready for their next task when they had been blind sided. They had fought bravely, but were rather quickly overwhelmed.
Mostly, Velkuriss was angry with himself. He should have expected someone attacking them. The Council was little more then a nest of vipers. Instead, he foolishly thought that they had been giving the chance to save the bloodline. Having found a bit of burnt flesh and bone from one dead emperor, and the forever beating heart of another, the shadowknight had a faint idea of what was happening. He was certain that the necromancers and others were going to try and rebuild an emperor. Or some how breathe life back into the Royal Bloodline.
The shadowknight would have been proud to serve. Instead, he was treated like some kind of traitor, or spy. He didn't know why he was left alive, and was past the point of caring. Velkuriss knew he was going to kill whomever was responsible. Slowing, with a dull knife and by scaling them alive. He wasn't sure if his people were even worth saving anymore. The council was overdue to be destroyed, that much he was certain about.
Markus made the slow and steady climb back into consciousness, regretting it as soon as he opened his eyes. His hands were manticled together, placed behind his back, no way for the cleric to do any finger wagging or with the ability to repair his wounds.
The raid had gone so well, until the pocket of resistance that had been hidden for so long in the city fell. Then it had been a slaughter, the others that Markus had been with died quickly. The last thing that Markas could remember was a sharp pain then blackness.
The first time he had woken up was when the jailer kicked him in the ribs, Markus returned the favor by kicking the Iksar knee, hard enough to dislocate it. After that it was another blow to the head and blackness, of course they left the human in the dark.
Markus hated the fact that he was now chained and imprisoned, knowing that there might not be a chance to escape. Markus wondered if there would be a chance to get free, with a sigh he knows that the time might present itself, he would survive and get back to his wife.
With a snort, feeling the trickle of blood oozing out from his broken new nose, he sits up as best as he could, his ribs were broken again. Waiting for what little guel and water they would bring him.
Sajeek and Bast pick their way into the ruins drawing the others along beside them. The plan to walk the city is a solid means of gathering intelligence, but perhaps there is a rationale behind conspiratorial whisperings.
Hunkered down you each find a crack in the dull grey bricks to spy from. Nearly all vantage points are covered, which allows you to know when to fall silent, and when words can be exchanged. The ruins are in fact the remains of 4 separate businesses that have fallen to disuse and ill repair. Each of you can slink into each of the small businesses through tight holes in the walls.
One piece of information has been acquired: the high elves have not exploited their knowledge, if Calitri has informed them of the fireport rooms, oft enough that the iksar have become aware of the city's access point.
From your tight vantage point (you stand at -400, +800, using the top number first) you glean enough of your surroundings to get a general understanding of the area around you.
- East of your position, beyond the walkway, is a expansive arching stone bridge that rises high over the swamp waters below.
- Northwest of your position (1) is the home of the Crusaders (shadowknights), and it is a beehive of activity. It is discerning to see numerous shadowknighs walking around literally having just bathed in warm blood.
- North of where you hunker down is where all the frogloks run to and fro from. Your slitted nostrils catch breezes from a place outside of the city.
- West, across the waters, you see several businesses with kloks hocking their wares in a subdued manner (2, 3, 5-7), and a bank (4).
- South of your position are more merchants (9-21).
- Southwest is perhaps the scariest thing you can imagine, the Iksar monk's guild (8).
Lister agrees that a nearby base is a good starting point. Once there, he looks around, making mental notes of all he surveys.
He whispers to the others, "Perhaps we just watch for a short while."
" Sounds like a plan, I am very worried about walking among the Iksar Shadow Knights and the Monks. Very, worried to say the least, I doubt that the person we are looking for will be in the dungeon, or where they are keeping non slaves at." Kwen whispers to Revery, the rogue is almost hyper alert, knowing that anything could go wrong; forcing himself to relax knowing that being edgy would do the group no good.
Frogloks stream by carrying all manner of burdens, and return half dead with exhaustion. You watch a Crusader cut a froglok in twain for seemingly no reason other than it looked him in the eye.
Insects float in the air, causing your stomach to grumble.
Fenris looks torn, which is incredibly impressive considering how inept iksar features are to convey emotion. You realize that he has been dragged along without really understanding how important and dangerous this mission has become. Should anyone offer for him to leave he will take them up on it, wish them well, and gate out immediately.
"Alright, before we start wandering around the city, hoping to find.., our target, we need something resembling a plan," Sajeek whispers. He glances around at the others. At first glance they seemed good, a bit nervous, but good. Looking at Fenris, a slight frown darkens his scaled muzzle. The druid look about ready to flee. And since Sajeek was planning on using the druid's magics to get them even further away from the falling apart capital of the iksar, having him freak out was not part of the vah shir's plan.
"You holding it together?" Sajeek had leaned in and whispered to the changed druid. He looks the druid over. "We need you in one piece, no one is expecting you to get in a fight. But we will need your gifts to move people great distances once we zap ourselves out of here with our target."
Reaching out, he squeezes the transformed elf's shoulder reassuringly. Nodding to the druid, he turns and looks at the others.
"Alright, at some point, we are going to have to start looking around. I recommend more listening, then asking questions. Unless someone is feeling particularly silver tongued that is," A faint grin hits Sajeek's scaled muzzle.
Looking over at the merchants, Sajeek thinks for a few seconds. His stomach grumbles audibly. He signs, trying to remember when he last ate. A lot had happened in the last day.
"Okay, if we do have to spend any coin, let's stick with the lie we found it on some dead elves outside of the city," He pauses as he thinks." We were outside on a task our master sent us out on. If we are asked about said master, we are unable to speak their name under penalty of death."
"Okay, I think we can eliminate the frog pens. I don't think that they would be keeping such an important prisoner with them," Sajeek pauses looking out in the direction of the slave pens. The magically inherited knowledge took some of the disgust out of his mind of the slave pens. Some of the disgust, but not all.
"Does anybodies "borrowed" memories help?" Sajeek asks, looking at his friends. "I don't really "remember" such a place, and kinda doubt such a place exists. We don't really seem to be the taking prisoners for anything but slaves kinda people."
Fenris' head cocks to the side, "I have no such magics. Only incredibly powerful druids can transport their companions great distances."
The group carries a device for short-range teleportation, but otherwise they are walking out of here. Considering that they expect to be holding a most valuable hostage, who undoubtedly would have trouble blending in whilst departing, the item's magics are crucial to Firiona Vie's escape from Cabilis.
Fenris takes a deep breath and nods. He looks about ready to bolt, but for the moment remains.
No one has a clue of where prisoners would be kept within the city. It appears your memories are what a broodling might have. You are confident of how to move around the city, keep your eyes low when passing your betters, and some non-verbal nuances that will keep you from being identified: after that you're on your own.
The klok offers up wares most disgusting, and seems confused at first by your inebriated version of the lizardman tongue, but the deal is completed without issue. You are surprised by his/her lack of interest in your coin, suggestive that the common coin of the realms is also the common coin here as well. Also, the klok does not meet your eye: you have found a class of this race that is below broodlings.
(please use roleplaying flair to describe whatever disgusting, raw meal you are eating)
Kwen nods, paying for his brunch, his mouth watering, the first bite held the perfect satisfying toughness that only raw meat could have, the splash of blood that was still trapped in the flesh, made the copper tang mixed with the texture of the food, taste all that much better. Giving a small growl of satisfaction once the meal is completed, the Iksar rogue, licks a few stray drops of blood off his hand.
Thick vitreous body rolls down Fenris' scaled chin, lingers in the recesses and then drips to the moist grey stones below. A clot of blood hangs just below his mouth ridge, and is quickly swept into his maw by a deft maneuver by his forked tongue.
The druid shakily joins the group, but as the only one that doesn't speak the language, you all understand that he could be a liability.
Selecting a large chunk of some kind of giant centipede, Sajeek looks down at his meal after passing over a few coins. He had picked something for Bast as well, fairly certain it was some type of fish. Whatever it was, the shape change tiger didn't seem to mind. Peeling a the shell of the big bug open a bit more, the beastlord digs in. The meat was slightly spicy, and surprisingly juicy. It almost seemed to me a meal and an drink all in one.
Growing up in the wilds of Luclin, he had eaten a wide variety of things. While it looked pretty odd, the giant bug was pretty tasty. Best of all, it was still pretty fresh. Such was the case here, plus, the magically grafted memories helped out about. The iksar had little need for cooking their food. Preferring freshly killed prey.
Looking over at his friends, the beastlord thinks about the druid. It had been a bit impulsive to drag the druid along. Admittedly, the druid could have said "No thanks," and stayed. 'That's not really fair. We were running around way to fast for him to really get an idea of what we were going to do,' the transformed vah shir thinks to himself as he eats. 'And I dragged him along because I thought he would be able to teleport us out. And he said he couldn't port us around. Plus he can't speak their language, so that could be a big problem.'
Sajeek leans over to Fenris as they are eaten. The beastlord asks if the druid would feel better returning home, if he had the power. He whispers to make sure that they the klok's didn't overhear a noniksar language. The beastlord was in the habit of throwing peoples lives away.
After the druid makes his decision, he looks over at his friends. Raising his eye ridges and then looks around.
Revery chooses the least crazy thing on offer by the klok. Getting some raw fish, he recalls that some humans actually eat this. Why can't he recall who? His memory seems to be less powerful than it was before - hopefully it's not a permanent loss.
He brings the food back and forces himself to eat it. His Iksar body and memories help immensely, and to his great surprise, he does not gag on it, or vomit. He just hopes there is no disease in it.
In Iksar, he says, "So, the first plan is to do a very nondescript tour of the city, and then come back here and decide what to do next? Perhaps if our hands were full of ..." he pokes at remains of the businesses, the walls of where they are hiding... ".. of this, but not too much. If we drop them we don't want to be spending a long time picking them up."
He wonders if there are any cakes, or something else sweet. What have they been feeding their Elf prisoner? Centipedes?
He finds a very quiet and private spot, pulls out his spell book, and reviews one spell (Bind Sight, giving up Sanity Warp).
Fenris quietly departs with an immediacy that surprises no one. He offers to teleport the group, when his power grows, if their paths should ever cross again. You get the impression that he will die to protect the forest, or a wild animal, but feels uncomfortable risking his life for people.
Your path crosses with the most interesting people, but your core group remains rock solid, and that group consists now only of people that can speak the iksar tongue.
You walk the southward, passing by dozens of your "fellow" iksar, knowing when to avert your gaze (just about everyone), and when you can keep your eyes straight ahead (slaves, klok). Near the wall you see a number of races, other than frogloks, smoothing stone walls with large rocks.
Among their number you see some humans, an elf or two (1 wood elf, 1 dark elf), and a few others. No women are among their ranks.
Revery is a little surprised when Fenris leaves, but shrugs his shoulders and hopes the best for him. Once he makes it to the wilderness he should be okay.
Upon seeing the slaves, he notes the humans and elves and continues on. This time round they would just be ears and eyes.
He keeps his ears open to any talk or other sounds of interest. He watches Iksar (showing appropriately deference, of course). They would probably need to talk to someone soon, ask questions. But for now, they must be vigilant and stick to their plan.
Kwen nods at Fenris leaving, the druid getting out of the city waz the best choice. After all sense he can't speak Iksar, Fenris getting out of the city alive was ideal. Kwen notes the slaves, trying to free the human and elves would be fool hardy to say the least.
Markus was talented enough to heal his ribs, but knew he had to wait to cast the spells. With a grunt he starts to rest as best as possible while being shackled.
Sajeek thinks about what Revery said about carrying chucks of rock with them as part of a disguise. He shakes his head slightly.
"I think if we walk with a purpose, like we are actually in a hurry to get somewhere, we should be fine," Sajeek rubs Bast's muzzle as he quietly speaks. "Carrying rocks, we might be thought more like the kloks, or worse, slaves." The beastlord blinks a few times. "Okay, maybe not slaves ."
Looking over at Kwen, he nods to the transformed half-elf.
"Although, our sneaky friend here would know best about how to blend with crowds, and find out what is going on," Sajeek says with a quiet chuckle. "I jest, my friend. Although, any tips you might have for us would be helpful." The beastlord's muzzle twists as he smiles.
"I completely agree with the fact that we need to do some exploring around the city, keeping are earslits open as we go," Sajeek looks at his friends.
Kwen gives a quiet snort at Sajeek's words then he nods, he whispers to the beastlord " Alright, but we are going to need to find a quiet area, there are a number of things I can show you, we need to run throw some non verbal cues to converse the last thing that we need is someone paying attention to us as we talk in another language.." Kwen glances around, knowing that what Sajeek was asking for finding out what would be going on in the city, was going to be fraught with peril.
Kwen starts to observe as he is walking, trying to find the subtle pulse of the city. Things were very different in the Iksar's rule, but there was always was to ask questions without drawing too much attention to one's self and motives. Lacking any contacts in this city would work against the rogue, but they couldn't spend all there time wondering the city.
Keeping an eye out for a place where the group could not be noticed and so he could start to show the others some of what they would need to help blend in with the crowd.
Two pairs of almond eyes drift your way and immediately sink to the ground. Though the more perceptive of your lot catch a slight sneer to their lips. Likely a nonverbal cue unknown to the seemingly emotionless, and cold-hearted, iksar, but something you recognize immediately. Their bodies appear to be fully intact, unlike each of the froglok, all of whom have lost a flipper, forcing them to cruelly hop about upon a raw and bloody stump. Though you do not share a common tongue with the frogloks you discern the despair their lives are.
After scouring the city, you glean that all of the slaves in shackles continue southward to a single room (#26) and return from the same room. Finding a klok is easy, since they are set up all around that room, offering all manner of wares, which permits you to get close enough to sit down for a meal and watch the room for a bit.
Glimpses are piled together and eventually you have discerned:
- What lies beyond the door is the warrior guild
- You are immediately rebuffed from getting near the door by the three short-tempered guards
- Slaves are kept beyond the secret door, judging by the screams
- Iksar that are arrested are also taken down below
Markus, Velkuriss, and Kspress wake to a warm bucket of fetid swamp water being dumped on their heads. Each is chained to the other, and the end of the chain runs to a deeply fashioned steel ring on the wall, affixed by a strong lock.
Food consists of what they can grab skittering by: rats, insects, et cetera. A trickle of swamp water leaks through the wall, providing fluid, but it makes everyone sick. You are forced to drink, lest dehydration sink in, but it is a fine balance between hydration and poisoning yourself.
If there's one thing to say for the 5'x5' cell it is that it is immaculately clean, since you are the ones that clean all of the cells, something made all the more difficult for Markus since light sources are few and far between.
Talking is forbidden, so to this point only a few whispers have been exchanged, lest you incur the expected punishment that comes from being whipped by barbed chains.
This day you are all but dragged to a cell that you have never been to before. Within it has a thoroughly beaten and savaged high elf female. You will not talk to her, or even acknowledge her existence, lest you be beaten by the guard that escorted you here.
Markus had to trust that his body as wracked from the long hours and the abuse of being a prisonser, would manage to keep the sickness at bay from the swamp water. With an inward sigh at this constant existence, Markus would give a lot just to be able to at the very least kill this guard.
Markus wanted to get out of this cesspool, but at the moment there was nothing that he could do. Reflecting on the fact that his ribs were at least letting him move without too much discomfort. Upon seeing the beaten elf, Markus brings his eyes to the floor, not wanting to be beaten so early in the day. Markus had to relay on his other two cell mates for a bit of guidence when it came to areas that he couldn't see, this cell for a change had some light, and for the second time Markus actually wished that there was no light. That way he wouldn't be forced to see what he had saw, if Markus had his morning star he would have killed the guard in a heartbeat.
Keeping his wits about him Markus makes mental notes of the cells and the passageways that he had been able to see, trying to run a possible thought of escape, one of the few things that helped him get through the day.
Kwen starts to make notes in his head:
1. Slaves are kept in the warriors guild
2. Iksar dissidents are taken to the guild as well
3. Getting passed the guards will be difficult
4. Killing the guards and not having any witness, may be tricky to say the least.
5. At least one of the slaves has not been fully broken in spirit.
6. Once getting in, finding out if the target is in the same building.
7. Once in, to create confusion, the best way would to be arm slaves, and have them run a muck.
8. Not having slaves and prisoners trying to kill the group.
9. Not getting killed or captured.
10. If captured how to secure some of his tools to open locks
Kwen shakes his head, a few plans already starting to form in the rogues mind.
Kwen starts to glance around, using his head to make the smallest movements possible, he starts looking for patterns in the guards route, how many slaves are around in this location. Any way nearby that could give the group an edge in sneaking around to get the drop on the guards.
Velkuriss had awoken with a snarl when the swamp water hit him. Feeling that he wasn't attached to the wall, the shadowknight had almost acted. He could feel a heavy shackle with a chain still around his leg. As his eyes opened and the light from the heat of his body and the others, Velkuriss can see he is marginally better off then before. At least he wasn't stapled to a wall. With a quick glance he could see that he was chained to two others. Kspress and a human that he had seen once or twice before in the cells. That gave the shadowknight a glimmer of an idea.
Given that they were under almost constant guard (or so it seemed), it made talking or plotting extremely difficult. Nothing more then a few words could be whispered. He was glad to see that the monk had survived. The two iksar had completed a number of near impossible task. Not that it really helped them.
Velkuriss had gotten the humans name, in exchange for his own and it had earned the dark knight a few lashes. He was chained to the softskin. He didn't want to end up being whipped for something the human didn't do. Especially, when it came to cleaning. It was painfully obvious that the human couldn't see a damn thing, in the near darkness of the cells. He had used the chain that bound the three together as a guide line when it was necessary. Velkuriss found that a simple tug on the leg chain was good enough.
One thing he had noticed with rather keen interest, was that the guards didn't expect them to attempt to keep the human in one piece. Most iksar would have probably tried to kill the human for food. Given the ample amount of food that lived in the dungeons in the shape of rats and large insects. Water was more of a problem, their only source tasted like it came from a stagenet swamp. Which it probably did.
Apparently, they three were "trusted" enough to clean out the cells. Velkuriss passed the time envisions himself using the barbed chain that he was occasionally struck with to saw off the guards head. The thought always managed to twist his muzzle in a cold smile. More importantly, it gave the shadowknight the layout of the building. It was one of the many times that he was glad that everyone thought he was just a big, dumb brute. They could keep thinking that while he memorizes and plots.
It was a surprise to Velkuriss when they were taken off their normal routine and almost dragged to a new cell. In the cell was an elf, Velkuriss was fairly certain that it was a female, but it could be hard to tell with softskins. The elf had definitely spent some quality time with a torturer. One that was skilled at that. He carefully glanced at the elf while they methodically cleaned the cell. His mind whirled over reasons as to the prisoner, and why she was not chained to anybody else. 'Perhaps she is an general or the like,' Velkuriss thinks to himself. He was curious to know why she still drew breath. The elf looked like she had been a cell for awhile. He was somewhat surprised to find he didn't really care if the elf was an enemy. His hatred was more focused on the treacherous council.
The very thought of the fools that were strangling the life from the iksar, brought a flicker of black lightning to dance around his right hand. His blue eyes burn brightly with life for a few moments, before he regains his composure. He blinks a few times, his eyes seemingly dulling.
Kspress makes a small map in his head of the prison, in the remote hopes that in the event of an escape, he can make the best possible educated guess about which way to go. He also keeps count of all the different guards he sees, and any other individuals.
Kspress looks over the elf, and the human one more time. Since spending time with softskins he has noted some differences between the two races. The ears are the most obvious differentiator, but there are others, he is learning. Their females' bodies are quite different from their males' in several ways, most notably their facial hair and the organs for feeding their young (which all mammals share). But the elf males do not have so much facial hair, so even that trait must be used carefully.
Now he notes that the elf's facial features are finer, as is her hair. And from what he's seen, elves tend to be thinner.
Revery whispers to the others, "We can always question a klok. I think one would not mention a strange question unless asked about it.
If our quarry is considered not too valuable, it may be with other prisoners. Otherwise it may be in a special cell. Then again, even such a special cell may be in the main prison."
He forces himself to eat the food, and to pretend it is normal. At least these Iksars are not so expressive (he hopes) and thus he does not have to pretend to enjoy it. Satisfactory is satisfactory.
Revery finds himself appreciating the Iksar a little bit. They seem to know what is expected of them, and there does not seem to be any dissent or crime here. Their seeming cruel nature is a bit much for him, but there are certainly things other societies could learn from these lizard people.
Kwen nods at Revery's words then whispers " Not a bad idea, the Klok might think it is merely a test, so no harm could be seen from these questions. I'm currently trying to think of a few ways for us to get into the door." Kwen finishes, trying to work out ways he could teach the other's how to talk using body language, which in the Iksar form adds a bit of a challenge.
" I'll ask the questions, I might be able to glean something that we could use." Kwen whispers to Revery, his mind whirling with thoughts and plans. Looking over at the guild door he spends time thinking more on a distraction that they could use to sneak in. Killing the guards might work but to many things could go wrong with that plan, too much noise. Poison would probably be the best route in the door the rogue thinks to himself.
The stench of excrement and urine assails your nostrils as the stone door is opened. The small food slit in the door tried to warn you of what was beyond, but you refused to be turned aside.
An emaciated and filthy Firiona Vie stares at the iksar guards with a coldness that you are frankly surprised doesn't slaughter them instantly, considering their innate weakness towards cold.
The guards do not take her eye contact kindly, and show their disdain as they smash her in the face with the pommel of a very sharp longsword. She crumples, but remains conscious, though shaky, as blood flows from a large gash running across her right cheek.
Those in the cells had long since determined where their gear was kept, not that it mattered much considering the sheer volume of highly-trained iksar warriors stationed in the guild halls above their heads. Your cell door, and a solid stone door stand between you and being fully armed and armoured.
With the very bucket that woke you, and some hardy moss, you work to rid the room of the filth that has accumulated over the time that the princess of the high elves has been staying here. You are surprised to see that they have been feeding her, and giving her clean drink. Unlike you, it matters if she dies.
Clutching the rags of her clothing, in a futile attempt at modesty, she looks up quizzically at the trio that is cleaning her quarters. The guards are in conversation, permitting a very short attempt at communication, perhaps only a handful of words.
Her eyes implore you to not avoid the corner closest to her.
Kwen feels confident that finding an entrance to the warrior's guild is nearly impossible, though absconding a slave or prisoner as they left the underground stronghold, and this is the only building you've seen below water level, would be much easier.
As to the number of slaves, there are very few non-froglok slaves, all men, and perhaps hundreds of frogloks. Only the non-froglok slaves are accompanied by slavers. The frogloks are sent on tasks seemingly without further direction.
The guards that patrol the entrance are battle-tested veterans. The walk with an impressive fluidity that belies their gear, and make you wonder how well you would do against them if it came to blows, even with the drop on them. You are left with more questions than answers, and are sure that you would like to avoid combat if possible, considering the awesome reputation the iksar have in terms of martial prowess.
Revery's suggestion appears to have merit, considering the deference the kloks give to the group.
Velkuriss feels a mote of respect grow for the elf. She continued to challange the guards with her raised gaze. Given her state, and the amount of filth that was in the cell, she had definitely been in here long enough to figure out that what the guards expect of their prisoners. Another point of interest was that it appears as though this elf was important. A softskin that whomever captured him felt was important enough to keep alive, was someone that Velkuriss would free. Just to anger his captors that much more.
As he and the others begin cleaning her cell, the shadowknight met the elf's almond eyes. Velkuriss was surprised to see the strength in that gaze. This was not an elf who bowed to anyone. No matter what the circumstances, there was steel in the spine of the elf. His muzzle twists as he grins. He certainly could respect that type of strength of character.
The elf's eye shift ever so slightly to the corner that she was standing near. Velkuriss follows her gaze, and then looks back at the elf. The shadowknight nods slightly. The elf had something there that she didn't want the guards to find.
"I'll say nothing, other then we all need to escape," he whispers in common. Velkuriss was whispering barely louder the sound of a breath. "Velkuriss," he whispered with another micro nod. With that, he "cleans" the corner that the elf is nearest to. The shadowknight was careful to not disturb whatever she had hidden. It looks like they might have an ally. One that would cause their captors a great deal of embarrassment.
At the mention of asking a klok, Sajeek almost slaps his forehead. He grins looking over at Rev.
"That is a great idea!" the beastlord says happily, sending a nod the enchanter's way. "I don't know if Kwen sees anything, but, I think those guards that are patrolling look pretty nasty. I'd bet gold that they are magically enhanced somehow." The transformed vah shir shrugs briefly. "So, unless Kwen spotting something, I think getting in there is going to be really damn difficult." He pauses thinking for a few seconds.
"Of course, we're not even sure if what we are looking for is in there yet," Sajeek says with a slight frown. Looking around at their surrounds for a few moments, he turns his gaze to Kwen.
"I think your probably the best to be asking questions, you silver tongued devil, you," A roguish grin lights his reptilian muzzle. "I don't think my tongue skills would be as appreciated by the females here."
Kwen gives a smile then says in a low voice " No way that we can get in there above ground, I'm thinking under the water is the best choice, unless we could walk through walls." he finishes; pondering what he could remember when they group had teleported in.
Looking at the Klok, Kwen starts to ask a few innocent questions, letting his Iksar memories help him avoid pitfalls that might alert the Klok that something strange was going on. Dwelling deep into the Iksar memories to bring insight into his questions. Blending the rogue's guile, his ability to read people, and lie. This was difficult for the rogue, but his enjoyment in having to stretch tales.
diplomacy
gather information
sense motive
bluff
Markus kept cleaning as best as possible, with what little ability that he would be able to see, trusting the Iksar named Velkuriss, to help guide the cleric as needed. Markus felt foolish, that he had to relay on others to be his eyes, Markus made sure that his area was as spotless as possible.
Markus felt the anger rising in him, this existence of being a slave was infuriating to say the least; Markus made a vow at that moment that he would only act like he was broken; that he find a way to get out of here, with his other cell mates. Markus would not let these two that had helped him, stay behind; he would listen to the others in what little ways of conversations that the three had been able to have.
Kspress commences cleaning, helping out the blind human when he needs it.
Hearing Velkuriss speaking in the human tongue, he wonders if the elf knows it. The softskins they had met in and around Firiona Vie all spoke it, so it was a good assumption that this elf would. Besides, the only other option would be Iksar, and she probably doesn't understand that.
Kspress wonders again how similar the human and the elf are. His mind begins to wander, speculating on how the female could hatch young elves, or half-human-half-elves, if she doesn't have eggs. But of course, she has them, only they are inside her. He wonders if the human would attempt to fertilize the eggs, were conditions favourable to such a coupling. But how would he know if her eggs were ready? Likely, she would have to tell him. He had seen where the fertilizing cells on the human were stored; indeed, he knows well that the very glands that produce such cells are two of the weakest spots on the already-weak and pain intolerant human male.
It marvels Kspress just how entirely alien these softskins are, and even more that the Iksar have much to learn from them. He speculates that their brains are good, and that they are more flexible in their thinking. As a monk, he knows well that although strength is important, fluidity and flexibility are also paramount. The bones are rigid, but they are connected by flexible sinews that give them mobility and flexing muscles that drive them. The whole is thus more than all the parts. This, perhaps, is something Human, Elf and Iksar all share.
A roach escapes Kspress' dirty rag, and he deftly picks it up between two claws. He washes it with fetid water, and is about to eat it when he gets a whim, a thought. He offers the roach to the elf woman, attempting a smile. He hopes perhaps she and the human will find an opportunity to couple, and when they do he would like to observe. And so, he hopes she remembers this offer of protein.
Revery whispers to Kwen, in Elvish, "Tell them how vigilant the guards must be, to guard such horrendous criminals and hot-blooded creatures. Suggest that they must never let down their guard."
Shackled together does not afford the group much room to maneuver, but it greatly assists Markus' ability to be of some use. There is no light sources whatsoever down below, for the iksar need none, but they do have fires for warmth, and those unintentional light sources afford Markus the occasional ability to see his surroundings, as doors open in other parts of the underground complex.
The high elf shakes her head at the monk's offer, offering it back to him instead. She whispers back in response to the shadowknight's words, after nodding her agreement to what he said, "Firiona."
Velkuriss uncovers a clockwork figure, 7" tall, and only a couple pounds in weight. Its head, once turned backwards, spins around, and its head cocks to the side as it takes the iksar's measure. Its eyes, forehead and stomach glow a soft warmth that also release some heat.
The princess softly begs the group to take "WIDGET MCMXCIX" with them, since there is no place for it to be hidden once they leave her cell clean.
No further words can be exchanged as the second iksar walks away, leaving the party's escort with only the group to attend to.
Any of the trio can grab Widget and attempt to hide it.
(please include a DEX roll, whomever decides to "palm" the clockwork automaton)
You have seen no underwater means of gaining access to the underground, which is likely, considering that it would likely be flooded otherwise.
The klok, with eyes cast down to bare feet, agrees that the troopers fight a never-ending battle against the forces of darkness. Between the enemies of their people, and the slaves, one misstep could prove to be fatal, especially considering the damage the could be inflicted upon their people before the insurrection was put down.
You realize that getting a klok to talk is not difficult. What is difficult is dealing with the fallout of being seen breaking the caste system and addressing those you are better than.
Kspress looks with surprise twice. Once, when the elf named Firiona, like the city, refuses his offer of a cockroach. And again, when she shows them her clockwork figure.
He briefly looks at it to see if it's an elf or a human, or something else, and then takes it from her and tries to hide it in his arms.
Palming automaton:
Doing this dangerous action makes him think about escape, and he tries to imaging breaking the chains, as he has imagined so many times before. Do they look like they can be broken?
Your chains have suffered all manner of abuse, but they have been built with iksar craftiness in mind, as well as the strength of a lizardman. You need the key, or lock picks to open them (DC 30 pick lock roll).
The tiny feces-bedecked automaton does not appear to have been fashioned after a specific race, though it is slightly reminiscent of a gnome with its short stature, slightly round belly, and from the right angle its "ear flaps" (for lack of a better term) have the appearance of the unkempt hair of a balding gnome.
While the klok has no specific knowledge of the slaves, and looks daringly raises her eyes to your knees, wondering why the question would be posed, she speaks of a strange request that has her fellow merchants all a tizzy, since it is unprecedented.
A request for "elf softskin food", whatever that is.
With a devotion to the sewing circles of any kingdom she relays how this request was deemed strange. They had never before cowed to the culinary whims of their prisoners, but this prisoner was important to the war effort, which had prompted so many additional troopers to guard their guildhouse.
Kwen ponders this new information, at least they now knew where the elf was being held, now it would be a pain trying to get into the guild, where she was being held.
Kwen wonders how they were going to get into the guild, without being seen, then he remembers that Revery could make a person invisible from sight. The only problem with that is that the spell fades at random times still it would be a boon to bypass the guards. Taking a calming breath the rogue, ponders how to broach the subject of other means of getting into the guild, then asks how is the food delivered.
gather information
trying to find out if there might be another way into the guild, besides be a prisoner/slave.
Kwen discerns that food is brought in through the entrance the group knows of when troopers come out demanding it, which is why so many klok merchants are set up so close to the guild house.
They wander through, picking the choicest morsels, then have each of the kloks deliver it a few hours later, once they have had time to present it properly. She asks if one of your number would like to act to deliver her wares, and then suggests that they make it worth her while.
You feel the extortion vibe entering her words, and while you are her betters she is wise enough, a trait that iksar are known for, to understand that nearly every combat-ready iksar in the city is your betters.
Revery looks around the area for another potential place for the group, or at least for an individual, to hide. He is aiming for something within 600 feet of the guard house entrance.
" What were you thinking." Kwen asks the Klok, money wouldn't be too much of a problem. Kwen was also wary of a double cross, the last thing he needed was to be arrested, or anyone else in the group to be as well.
Noticing that Revery was doing some scouting for a better vantage point was smart, something that rogue normally does, brought an inward smile to Kwen.
Markus noticed that the other's were able to whisper a few things to the elf prisoner, wishing that he had some of his magics to bring light the cleric keeps his wits about him, the last thing he needed was another barbed chain coming down on his back.
Watching quietly as Kwen works, Sajeek buys a few hunks of fish. One for Bast and then one for himself. He hands over a few gold, not bothering with any change, and let's Kwen make his offer. He briefly thinks about who should go in place of the klok. Kwen was probably the smartest choice to go in. After all, he could more then likely escape if he was caught. 'Of course, so could Rev,' he thinks glancing between the two.
As he eats, the beastlord glances about, making sure that they weren't drawing undue amounts of attention. Sajeek looks at the female klok curiously.
Sajeek was interested to find out that the iksar weren't all quite as rigid as his magically grafted memories had lead him to believe. The female klok rather boldly trying to extort them was rather refreshing.
A brief grin hits his muzzle at her mention of making it worth her while. The transformed vah shir closed his muzzle before he says anything. He could think of a few things. The beastlord scratches the top of Bast's head and glances around casually, trying to keep from chuckling out loud at his thoughts.
Seeing Kspress go over the corner that the female elf, Firiona, had been hiding something, the shadowknight returns her nod with a minuscule one of his own. After that he goes back to cleaning, pretending that she didn't exist. The guards sounded like they were finishing up there conversation He didn't want to give them any cause for suspicion.
Velkuriss wanted the guards lulled into a nice false sense of security. It might increase their chances of escape to the realm of not impossible. Which, given what the two iskar had accomplished, escape was definitely possible.
There was a brief second where Velkuriss wanted so badly to rip the throat out of the remaining guard and drink his blood. The chained shadowknight forces himself to remain calm. They had to make form some sort of plan before they attempted to escape. He was certain of where his gear was being stored. Which was a nice plus, even if was going to be as hard to break out of their cell as it was to get their gear.
Glancing around at the cleaned cell, Velkuriss waits for the guard to realize that they had finished. Not that was in a big hurry to continue cleaning cells today, but he did want to get back to their shared cell so they could plot. As best as they could anyway.
Spots to hide are easily found near the entrance of the guild house, though maintaining a continual sightline is difficult, but possible. No iksar remains idle for long, but you have found a spot where you can spend a few minutes without too much chance of being accosted.
The klok rubs her chin and tells each of the others that she will give up her spot to one of them, if all of the others scratch her scales and massage her muscles until their companion returns.
A pattern is formed from the chaos, and the guard's rotations are discerned. They change their guard every hour and replace the two at the door with a fresh two. Another trooper wanders about along the same pattern. Slaves and prisoners all go in down the stairs and turn left and disappear.
Iksar Spot (Casual):
After a long day of cleaning cells, and having princess' automatons confiscated by the guards (who give the group a thorough beating for their insolence), you find your raw and bleeding forms back in your new cell.
If there's a positive that goes with the beating it is that you have been moved right across from your gear, and right next to the princess' cell. It is almost like your guards are trying to figure out where the hell you might have acquired a clockwork in your travels, and have deduced it came from your old cell.
The new cell is filthy and horrific, but it has a nice view through the slit of where your gear is held.
Blinking a few times, Velkuriss' eyes move around the filthy new cell, wondering how he woke in such a place. The fire dancing across his back was a quick, painful reminder of what had just transpired.
They had been beating down after the guard had spotted the elf's metal doll. Kspress had palmed the item. Just not well enough to keep it hidden from the remaining guard. Shifting his head slightly, he fixes one of his dark blue eyes on the monk.
"You really need to learn how to steal better," the shadowknight whispers to the other iksar. Not that he was being critical of the monk's skill. He had at least managed to snatch it up and keep it hidden for a little while. Velkuriss doubted that he would have been able to snatch it up without the guard spotting him right away. His twist slightly as he shifts his prone form.
Mentally shaking off the latest beating, the shadowknight examines the cell from where he lays. His gaze eventually looks over the human that was still chained to them. Velkuriss found it somewhat amusing that the human wasn't the cause for them being beaten. It looked like he was still alive. The iksar was impressed that this Marcus still survived. He seemed like he might prove useful, if they managed to escape.
It isn't too long before Velkuriss realizes that their new cell is within a stones toss of their gear. Not to mention right next to the elf's cell. Both of these were a shade of good news. Of, course, they still had to get fre of the chain, get the doors open, get the elf and their gear, and then figure a way out. But at least they were slightly better off then they were a day ago.
Sajeek couldn't help but grin when the female klok delivered her price. He had been expecting money, but this was.., so much more fun. The borrowed iksar memories and thoughts recoiled in his mind. The magically grafted attitude of the iksar that he wearing almost demanded the klok's head for her daring to suggest a thing. But he was a vah shir. More importantly, he was Sajeek, not some nameless broodling iksar.
"Sounds like a fair trade. You do look like you could use a nice, relaxing rest for awhile," The transformed vah shir has a roguish grin dancing upon his iksar muzzle. He looks over at Kwen.
"Would you care to take the foodstuffs in?" he asks of the rogue. He was confident that Kwen was the better choice. He was much better then either Rev or himself at being quite and sneaking around. Besides, he was certain that the rogue had done something similar before. He did tell a few tales of breaking into places, back before he had ended up with Pravus Mortis.