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?
Arcanes spellcastes that prepare spells ahead of time, has all his spells too, but will not be able to prepare until you find a spellbook.
A thin young woman, slightly on the tall side sits in the corner of her cell, and if not for the brand on her arm, she might look out of place.
She was coughing when they brought her in, and she's still coughing now. Every few hours or so, she coughs up blood. Her skin has taken a sickly pallor, and her thick brown hair is a matted mess. Perspiration covers her body, but somehow she smells like roses...
"Please...bring me water. Let me see the sun again." She pleads to the guards.
The guard, knock the door at his side and says:
"Ya heard it Jim? 'lil witch wants water! Ye won't be needing water, cause y'll be burning in three days." He says wryly."Now shut up that foul mouth of yer, else you will get to know my better my 'lil friend here." He says slamming his club in hand.
"Don't bother with that scum." says a deep voice with great strain. The sound comes from what appears to be a tall, strong being with dark hair covered in old burn marks and some very fresh bruises. He seems draining of his strength and will to live except his eyes. Red piercing eyes filled with hate and malice.
The young woman chained up at the far end of the room - next to the girl pleading for water - sat quiet and still, legs crossed and reclining slightly against the wall as though she were resting in a well-cushioned chair in a drawing room rather than on cold, hard stone. Her eyes were closed, but she was not asleep - she was listening, taking time to form an opinion of her gaolers and fellow inmates.
On another wall leans a young elven woman, her back against the wall, her hands up holding the cool chains that run through her shackles, supporting her weight with her arms. She seems weary, with bags under her eyes, dirt smearing her pale complexion, and a dirty scab on a split lip.
Up until now she had been staring at the ceiling of the cell, but she turns her eyes, one of blue and one of green, to the coughing woman and says, in a cracked, raspy voice, "If you wait on them for water you'll die before they'll spend the effort on one already being dealt with. Though the closest thing that I have to a useful suggestion is to lick the walls, which shows you either the predicament we're in or how little help I am. Feel free to choose which, as it's about the only freedom you have left."
Seeing the woman's coughing fits and the blood that spews forth from her, the elven woman asks, "And what is wrong with you dear? The guards treatment or a touch of plague?"
Eric takes a moment from his prayers to listen to back and forth converstaions of the guards and prisoners. Not once getting up from his knees since arriving in his cell, Eric decides it best to take a break from his prayers. Brushing back the dark brown hair from his eyes, Eric stands and walks over to cell bars.
"You there, Guard. Give her some water so she can shut up! If we are set to die, at least give us the decency of silence," demands Eric.
Upon the man's outburst, a hauntingly beautiful song can be heard being sung from the once Ravishing Aasimar hung on the back wall beside him. The rags no longer sufficient to hide the patches of rotting skin and muscle, she seems resigned to her fate, her shoulder hung low, her body dangling off the manacles above her, blood dripping from the cracked skin on her wrists. Seren looks up at the pious man beside her, piercing blue eyes peaking out between her platinum bangs, A small smile creeps onto her face as she continues to sing, ignoring the rasping pain it causes in her throat.
If I am stuck with this fate, let's at least make it a little interesting.
The guard posted just over the door, comes closer to the cell, while the other stay behind with a sgnal horn ready.
"'Tis is ye last warning! Shut yer filthy mouth else ye will earn a beating." Says the guard hiting the cells with his club, and then returning to his guard post.
A short time later, There was a horn signal and you all saw the guards shifting, the ones that were guarding you left, and now others stands guarding the cells in the same spot.
The ones posted next to the door walk over and says in a friendly manner "Sorry miss, we're not allowed to feed or give water for the forsaken, I know Rodger was not kind to you, he did not meant ill, you see, his family was killed by cultists. I can't garantee but I'll try get you some water later on, just don't keep making noises, else we will have no choice but to beat you senseless. Nothing personal miss, 'tis was just my orders. 'Tis is for you too big fella." And then he walk over to his guarding post.
Marsella regards the strange elf suspiciously, but then seems to decide that things couldn't possibly get worse for her the knowing. If you inspect her face, you can see that there are no tears, the sweat seems to stick to where it is rather than running down, and the blood she coughs comes out nearly dry. She whispers over the song of the other prisoner.
"It hasn't finished yet." she cringes but continues, "It's taking the water from my blood. I can feel it."
As she hears a promise of water, a smile breaks over her face. She stops whispering and sits back, still dry coughing.
Leaning back against the wall, Eric sighs dejectedly. At least I won't have to listen to those other guards for awhile... Rodger. You shall be the first on my list.
The elven woman looks up at the guard for a moment before shaking her long, black hair out of her eyes and saying "It's nice to see kindness from someone who still has their civility and manners, even after spending day after day watching such wretched creatures as ourselves come and go... and never return..." The woman looks away for a moment, biting her lip, before continuing, "And while it probably doesn't mean much, tell your friend that I am sorry for his loss. I know what it is like to lose family."
"C'mon take the bait, remember all the people you've seen sent to the gallows, look at the four of us. Young, beautiful women. Look at the two with obvious illness and let me see that pity that might be our ticket out of here..." the woman thought to herself.
Seren song having died out with the threat from the old guard, looks up again when their new jailer mentions the water.
Pity for the forsaken? hmm, a weakness to exploit. Remember this guard, he may be of use to me.
Hearing the elves reply, Seren looks at her curiously. What could she be playing at?
Bluff = 1d20(8)+8 = 16
Guard Sense Motive: 1d20(4)+2+5(you are a forsaken after all) = 11
The guard walks over again, e lean close to the cell bars, with a pained expression in his face.
"It's really hard miss, you see, I was raised to be a priest of the church of Mitra, that did not worked well for me, but I really belive there's not a soul so bad that it can't be forgiven. But that is not for me to decide miss. I'll tell Rodger you're sorry, and I'll bring you guys water later, just stop talking else I will need to gag you. 'Tis time with no other warnings." He look at loss of what to do for a instant, and then he walks over to his guarding post again.
The elven woman says nothing but nods at the guard and breaks eye contact, sinking her head down against her arm. When the guard turns and walks away, momentarily, a small smile will creep across her face, underneath her hair, and then it is gone.
What was that? Am I imagining things? Hmm"
"There's something... That fortified cell. Did you hear it? Behind her." he says softly looking in Sozia's direction.
The elven woman looks over and whispers, "I didn't hear anything... and who would they keep locked up tighter than us ", mockingly, "forsaken?"
Marsella follows Zerik's gaze to Sozia, and leans back, resting her head against the wall she shares with her.
She closes her eyes, and her expression becomes blank, though it's difficult to tell if he's concentrating or fantasizing about water.
"It sounded like... " Unable think of a better word. "Some kind of monster. " he says sounding more curious than concerned.
-Posted with Wayfinder
"Bah, are you all deaf? Because you're making me wish I was," says Eric with an angry tone in his voice.
After a short moment of listening to make sure no guards are coming, Eric begins to whisper to his cell mates, "I say it is best to give the guards as little reason as possible to come check on us. The name's Eric. Though in the coming days, that may not matter."
The elven woman turns to Eric, and whispers "Maybe, but I'm not so sure yet. About the guards or the coming days. And you can call me Adanna."
Adanna spends a moment looking Eric up and down before asking, "You any good in a fight, Eric?"
Zerik tries to pick the manacles. Perhaps...
"No. It was never going to work... Wait, what was that. These are no tricks of the mind. I hear that."
His spirit starts to rekindle. "Hope, a slim chance but not nothing. If intelligence and skill are brought to bear, perhaps that hope can turn to opportunity." "There is something in the other room. I cannot know for sure, but I would guess, from what I hear, the creature is large and heavy. Presumably dangerous the way they keep it under guard. More concerned about it than us. The name is Zerik and I have a feeling whatever is in the next room, it may may be of help to us."
"This time I don't think I'm going to be able to get out of this alone. I wonder what talents this lot has if any. Some look like spoilt nobles, guilty of upsetting the wrong people no doubt. But get out and then what? Surely I cannot return to the master. I do not know what I might have revealed about him during these interrogations, so much that I do not remember. But first the task at hand.
Adanna whispers, "Or at least provide a distraction."
"Perhaps. How we can use it to our advantage we shall see. First, we must see what we have to work with. I trust none of you is stupid enough to want to stay in here. What skills of use do you possess?" he says scrutinizing each one of them.
Adanna frowns before saying, "Unfortunately, very little right now, beyond a distraction and looking pitiful."
Marsella shakes her head and begins "Mars- but then bites her tongue.
"I'm not sure...but I feel stronger. If I can just...get through this." She whispers, then she's wracked with coughs, spitting out a clump of blood.
"Seren" Seren whispers bowing her head in mock greeting. "unfortunately, I will be of little help in physically escaping this cage." She tugs on the the manacles and chain, realizing both are well above her ability to deal with.
These chains can't be dealt with but, those guards... it might be time to play on their weakness.
A wicked smile crosses her face a moment later. "but the guards...if we can lure them closer they won't be a problem for long. I have a habit of turning friends on each other... and for that I don't need my hands."
Breaking her silence, the young woman opens her eyes and says in a low voice, "I have a couple of tricks up my sleeve. I doubt I can get us out of the prison itself, but I may be able to get us out of our shackles once the guard comes back."
Continuing to whisper, Eric says, "If any of you can find a way out of this cell, you can trust me to crack a few jaws. I've never been one to shy away from a good fight. As far as luring them in here, I might have an idea. Anyone interested?"
"Duly, though it would be foolish to proceed without caution...the position we find ourselves in is far from strong. What did you have in mind?"
"Well, because they wish for us to be silent, I thought I could make alot of noise. When they came to gag me, or beat me senseless, or whatever it is they have planned, that would give our friend, Seren was it? That gives her the chance to do whatever it is she says she can do. If she can't, well, it's not like I'll be leaving all that long to regret this..."
"Before we go taking out the guards. Do we have a way out of these shackles? Disposing of a pair of guards only does us any good if we have a way out of this cage afterwords. The guards will be replaced quickly and I for one, seem to still be securely locked to a wall." Seren mentions, jangling the manacles for good measure.
A group of eight guards, heavily armed and ready for trouble, come into the cell led by a fat well-dressed sergeant of the watch. Each of you recognizes Sergeant Tomas Blackerly. This was the man who held the brand that marked each of you. He laughed as your skin burned. Right now, though the sergeant seems a little dazed.
He points to Eric and says gruffly:
“You there! That’s the scum! Get ‘im unshackled. If any of you makes trouble, you’ll earn a thrashing! Today’s your lucky day, scum. You’ve got a visitor. How you ever warranted such a fine lady is beyond me. Seems she wants to say good-bye. Now step lively. We wouldn’t want to keep her waiting.”
“Oh, dearest,” proclaims the unfamiliar woman. “I’m so relieved you’re alive!” She quickly turns to Tomas. “Could we please have a moment alone, good sir? For pity’s sake?”
Tomas goes blank for a bit and then quickly agrees. “Of course, my lady. For you,’ tis no problem.”
As soon as the guards leave, her demeanor immediately changes. She drops all pretense of grief or concern. She is immediately all business.
“Have you forgotten me, dearest?” the unexpected visitor says with a smirk, dropping her pretense of grief. “Call me Tiadora. We possess a mutual friend who would like to meet you and your fellow cell-mates. Unfortunately, our friend is unwilling to visit you in your present rather shabby accommodations so it seems you must escape. Don’t be so dour. Just because it’s never been done before is no reason you can’t be the first. “If you manage that, cross the moors on the outskirts of town. On the old Moor Road you’ll see a manor house with a single lantern burning in the second story. There our mutual friend waits. That is all I know. He did want me to give you this.”
She takes off her silken veil and wipes away a few fake tears with it.
“Something to remember me by, dearest.”
"Tiadora is it? Eric takes the veil, while looking all the while puzzled.
"I have few friends, but you do have my interest. I'm in. I'll see what I can do about the others," says Eric with a smile on his face.
Seems he has answered my prayers afterall...
Eric then awaits for the guards to take him back. He tries to take note of which guards carry keys and what weapons are available.
Tomas shakes his head. “I’m afraid it’s time, miss.”
She looks deep in Tomas’ eyes and says, “Thank you for letting me say good-bye. There’s no need to search my dearest. You are such a good friend for letting me see my dearest one more time.”
“Such a good friend,” Tomas repeats his voice almost mechanical. Then the watch sergeant seems to snap out of it and bows politely.
“A pleasure, madam,” She leaves unveiled.
Her eyes meet your one last time and she briefly gives you a wicked smile.
“Three days,” telepathically echoes in the your mind.
“Don’t disappoint me, dearest”. The visitation concluded,
you are taken back o your cell by a cadre of guards and shackled once more.
Eric left for some time, and some minutes later he is taken back o his cell by a cadre of guards and shackled once more.
They leave without saying anything.
Adanna, upon seeing the eyes of the young woman, stares for a bit, and is then quiet, as if in contemplation. However, she does perk up briefly upon Eric's return.
"Not to be too nosy, but what was that about?", she whispers, looking him up and down, "You don't look any worse for wear..."
As soon as the guards have left and Eric feels it is safe to speak , he begins to whisper as soft as possible to the others.
"Keep an ear out for the guards. I have much to tell you. Most of which will have to wait until later. My visitor was named Tiadora. I'll tell you more when it is safer to speak. All I can say for now is there is someone that wishes to meet us. All of us."
Eric then begins to tug on his chains testingly.
The guards don't seen to be paying to much attention to you. Tiadora seens to have all attention for now. After all, is not every day a beaultiful woman visits a forsaken.
Testing your chains, you get know if you use all of our str, you can break free. But it will do a hell of a noise.
Still whispering, Eric continues, "He have about three days to reach someone. I don't want to give away too much in case we are over heard."
Eric tries his best to undo the veil and show it to the others. "She gave me this. Though she wiped her tears on it, I'm not sure why she'd bother. There seems to be all sorts of images on it, but I can't make heads or tails of any of it. Any of you care to take a look?"
How did he get that veil into the cell? and why? Curious.
"That's not an ordinary veil" Seren says curiously.
"Any ideas of whom this person is that wants to meet us? Don't much care for going from one prison to another" Seren Whispers, clearly intrigued by this turn of events.
Maybe there is a chance... has anyone ever escaped Brandescar?
I wonder if this is all some kind of trap? thought Adanna.
Taking a bit of time to look at the veil, Adanna whispers "I'm with you sister, but can it ultimately get worse than this?"
DC 12
You were able to cast your magic, the veil is indeed a magic item and it sheds moderate transmutation.
DC: 20
It's know as Veil of Useful Items.
This appears to be a fine silk veil of gossamer cloth. Only as it is
held and closely inspected can you see small cloth patches
of various shapes. One patch can be detached each round
as a move action. Detaching a patch causes it to become an
actual item. This veil contains:
• 2 daggers
• Lantern
• Rope
• Sack
• Thieves Tools
• Window
• Potion
• Gold pieces
• Symbol of Asmodeus
Once removed, a patch cannot be replaced.
Seren grins wickedly. "I know what that veil is.... our chances of escaping just increased substantially. the patches can be removed... and become the items they portray. Your mysterious friend just gave us the tools we need to possibly pull this off."
"I would suggest if we don't do anything rash here, We're still in a prison, and if we're going to pull this off the timing needs to be perfect."
A shadow of a smile creeps onto Marsella's face.
"Did you eat the entire pie yourself?" She whispers in hushed admonition to Eric.
You know, because in stories prisoners always receive their aid in a pie? It sounded better in my head. Another cough, this time forced to break the silence of her own bad joke.
"Theif's tools!" Zerik says, unable to hide the excitement in his whisper. "Those I can use to unbind myself." Eric, toss me the one with the theif's tools.
Zerik goes to work unshackling the others. "Who is helping us escape and why?" he wonders Not having time to figure it out now he focuses on the task at hand. First Eric. He takes one of the daggars. Then proceeds to unlock Adanna, Seren and Marsella last.
"I do not need the light to see, and that can be of aid to us. Stealth will be our ally. Open combat last, for we are outnumbered. Understood? I do not intend on dying in here for any of your foolishness." he says looking at the others. Then he goes to work unlocking the cell.
For all the actions relating to escaping.
Adanna perks up at seeing Zerik free, almost getting giddy. She whispers, "You're right, we need to be careful about this. Do you think you can get us out of the cell? If not, maybe we can surprise the guards when they come to bring us water? The last thing we need is the entirety of the guard on us."