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, or etched with acid in
Eldros's case, 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,
and your only other company is the huge and
foul smelling ogre in the adjoining cage.
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?
Beyond his filthy, tattered rags, Carnadine is tall and slender with well-defined musculature. He appears statuesque with a milky white complexion and unearthly human beauty. His jet black hair, that is normally swept back to form a widow’s peak, is disheveled. But it’s his piercing blue eyes that grab your attention when you first saw him.
"It is strictly and philosophically true that there is no such thing as chance or accident; since these words do not signify anything really existing, anything that is truly an agent or the cause of any event; but they merely signify man's ignorance of the real and immediate cause." He says in the sweet diction of a classical actor. You think the line is from a play but cannot place it. He does not make eye contact smiling at the floor. He is probably mad.
The dank and murky prison cell proved to be warmer than it had been recently, what with the new company. For a lengthy amount of time Zaul hadn't paid much attention to his fellow prison mates, lost in his own thoughts about how he could best get out of here. Alas, he managed to finally raise his head. He didn't appreciate his lack of uniform at the moment either, but finally speaks after being shackled to the wall when the Dhampir does.
"I believe we're far past the time for poetry." he says as he raises up, standing for the first time in a while.
While out of his uniform, Zaul is lean, but far from muscular. However, he seems rather capable, and has short brown hair that you're all fairly certain was bald when you first met him. You'd be correct.
"Least I've the luxury of a woman to my right." he says as he turns to his left. "Could be worse." he points out with a shrug.
A short, skinny, ugly man with a bush of wild, unkempt black hair sneers as he hears the words of two of those he is chained with. His arm still burns faintly from the acid that forever marked him as one of the 'worst of the worst', and he brings his hand up to rub it, only to once again find the movement restricted.
When he speaks, his voice is raspy, as though he is fighting a bunch of muck just to get the words out. "Quite a philosophical statement for one who resides shackled in a cell. What crime, pray tell, landed you in here?"
He looks to Zaul, an expression of mild amusement on his face at the man's words.
"It's never past time for poetry." Carnadine replies with a beautiful toothy smile and sparkling blue eyes.
Then, he rolls his head, gaze, and brilliant smile toward the ugly tiefling. "Crime? I committed no crime," he replies obscurely in a smooth voice. "However, I do have an appointment with an axe-wielding executioner, suffice to say. And yourself, my inquisitive companion? What brings us together today?"
"You would think, wouldn't you, that for paragons of virtue, warriors of Milta would think twice about tying up a single women and leaving her her there...I ask you, how chivalrous is that?" Keres grumbles, examining the shackles with a faint note of interest.
"That said, if we are swapping war stories, all I did was try and persuade a rich man to give a large sum of money...like really, how is what I did different from what a charity does?"
Who can blame fair Talingarde? asked Paimon, but not out loud. Had she not rebuffed his ilk long ago? Did their catcalls not fall on deaf ears? His thoughts carried him away to a time before his circus. He saw his mother's eyes and her mouth moving. What was she saying? Come visit me awhile?
"I may die here." he whispers. He nods his head, accepting his fate for the first time. Perhaps the last time? What was his last meal? "T'is humorous. Here I face certain death and only now do I realize that I was bamboozled out of a good supper. On this day. The day I die! Could you not give me even a little taste of wine good sir? Is a sliver of oil for my bread too much to ask?" This last part he addressed to the guard.
He tests his shackles, thinking that maybe this time, unlike the 73 before it, they would break. Of course he was wrong. The fool sits back and lets the conversations around him continue, his outburst done.
Eldros laughs quietly at Carnadine's response, a sound that resembles the labored wheezing of an old man. "Of course, of course, you just happened to win the lottery! Myself? Why, I knew too much and said too little. For that, a life of luxury in the salt mines."
He looks askance at the woman, "Aye lady, it seems you are a saint among sinners. Let the magistrate come forth, so I may beg mercy on your behalf." He grins, his misshapen teeth pulled into as charming a visage as he ever gets.
At the outburst of another prisoner, he falls silent. He knows enough to not provoke the guards in this place. Simply put, they didn't care, and would beat you without mercy, nor cause. He had suffered enough indignity, he had no desire to suffer more.
The two guards attending exchange a glance as they unlock your cell. One remains outside as the other enters, bringing with him several heels of old bread and unglazed baked clay cups of water which he doles out to you. He does this in silence until he reaches Paimon, to whom he gives an exaggerated bow and flourish,
good sir, you had but to ask it. All the hospitality of Branderscar is yours. Here is your wine... as he pours a cup of water over your head before pulling out a slender, leather wrapped club, and your sliver of OIL! as he slams his club into your unprotected midsection as the second guard looks on and laughs sadistically.
take of nonlethal damage.
You scum will accept what your given and be thankful for every second you have left of your miserable lives!
He finishes his task and leaves your cell. The other closes and locks it before both, joking and laughing at Paimon's expense, walk to the guards' room at the south end of the cell block and close the door behind them.
Zaul cringes as they place the thick bit of the club into his stomach. Once the guards leave, he shrugs slightly. He fidgets with his manacles, not paying much attention to the situation after that. "It's a shame they keep these manacles so high, isn't it? These locks... they've got to be ancient." he muses. He thrumbs his finger about the side of them, listening for the tinking sound with his long uncut fingernails he'd sharpened to a point for the sake of keeping even more distance from the plague victims.
"Oh and for anyone wondering, I was caught for Forgery." He chuckles. "Though I'll admit I did worse." he says with a smile.
The tiefling greedily devours his bread and guzzles his precious cup of water, pretending to not notice the beating being administered a mere few feet away from him. To make eye contact was to challenge, and this was how challenges were answered in Branderscar.
He lets Zaul's comment go unanswered. To answer would be to pretend there was hope when there was none. He had resigned himself to his fate, terrible work in the salt mines until his body gave out, at which point he would perish as surely as these poor bastards in here would when they were burned, hanged, or beheaded. He almost envied them their quick death. Almost.
Sitting alone with their respective thoughts, mostly concerning themselves with an imminent demise. This silence, this pregnant pause, is rudely interrupted when Keres lifts her head and casually asks "So, does anyone want to play I Spy?"
Zaul jokes despite the situation. "I'll be joining you in those salt mines, actually." he says with a sigh.
Finally regaining consciousness after falling asleep and seeing the food placed in front of him Ogren devours the meal happy to have something in his weary body.
With his mouth still full Ogren says I was caught for High Treason. All I did was try and show the world who their leaders really are and because of that I'm forsaken. I guess The Fal...No I don't have to hide it anymore. I guess Asmodeus the divine is right in his teachings might makes right.
After finishing his meal he pulls on his chains to test the strength casts a sigh of dismay and says I spy with my little eye 5 allies who can help in my/our escape. What do you all say?
"How charming, the three of us together all having fun in the salt mines, swapping stories, and everything else that comes with it" Keres remarks before raising an eyebow at Ogren
"I particularly liked how you hoped we would help with just your escape...rather than us all escaping together"
The diviner huffs at Zaul's statement, then chuckles humorlessly at the woman. In another setting, the prospect of working with the attractive female would be exciting. Now, it serves only to remind him of his pending fate.
He sighs at Ogren's words, rolling his eyes. He wished he could be so naive as to still contemplate escape. Alas, the thick shackles of extreme intellect had him restrained firmly in reality. They were doomed.
Carnadine sits down cross-legged and surveys the banquet of a meal that the guards have brought him. He ignores the guard's hospitality with his companion.
The dhampir arches an eyebrow at the half-orc's praise for the Lord of Darkness. After he savors a small bite of stale bread, he makes some curious sounds with his mouth. Then, he addresses the half-orc, "You follow the Lord of Darkness? Has He shown you how to escape?" After his questions, he takes a sip of water enjoying every bit of its quenching nature.
Ogren chuckles to himself and gets a look of embarrassment on his face before regaining his stern look. I apologize I intended for us all to escape together. My youth in the Orc encampment has made self preservation a part of who I am at my core.
Then turning he says I do but as I assume you know our lord is to him this is just a test if we can not do what has not been done before what use are we to him?
The blow hurt his pride most of all. In its wake, and after his breath returned to him, he pushes the bread away. He may be a fool, but he's going to die with some god-damned dignity.
He tests his chains again. Unfortunately seventy-five is not the charm.
"It seems perhaps your Lord has decided you'd be of better use to him down in Hell. That is always a possibility...a far more likely probability, in fact." The small man snickers, looking greedily upon the beaten man's untouched meal.
Zaul wastes little time in eating his food, but after half of it's gone he proceeds to finish it much slower after having completely drank the water. "All this talk of Asmodeus is nice and all, but proudly professing your faith will see you dead sooner in here, if I'm correct?" he asks as he finishes the bread.
Looking to the man making the strange noises, he raises an eyebrow but ignores it. "Still. I wonder why they threw us all in the same cell. Rest're empty, aren't they?" he asks as he looks around.
Paimon looks up, noticing the tiefling's stare. "I suppose there is some victory in knowing that I could die keeping my bread." he says, nudging his food closer to him, but away from Eldros in a gesture that is more symbolic than defensive. "I took a beating for this. What would you give up to wrest it from me?"
To Zaul's overture of inviting death the Fool mutters, "Why delay?"
"The better to keep an eye on us, likely. Six chained together in the same cell take less looking after than each in an individual cell." Eldros nods at his own sharp intellect, then turns to Paimon, "As we are now, nothing. At best I would stave off hunger for a few more moments, and at what cost?" He sneers, giving the man a hateful look before glancing to see what the man making the weird sounds is doing.
A pout plays across the Fool's face. "We have hardly any time left, and very little to use as currency." he opines. "But we have our names. What say you sir? Tell your name for another parcel of bread?"
"They probably thought id be lonely", Keres says in a matter of fact manner, idly listening into the conversations. "I suppose it matters not, my name is Keres"
Paimon gracefully kicks the plate of bread in her direction. As it slides to a halt in front of her a wry grin plays across his face. "Well, hello Keres. Eat up."
And you sir what is your name? I am Ogren.
Also I see no reason why i shouldn't admit my faith what will they do? I am already deemed to die and if they have not figured out who I worship already from my actions they are greater fools than I thought.
Now back to the task at hand what skills do you all have that will allow us to escape? I am formidable with my fists and if I can get my hands on an alchemy kit I am able to bolster my strength.
After saying that Ogren attempts to slip out of his chains with an escape artist check assuming that the guards are still out of the room.
Carnadine repeats his curious sounds calling for rats and then savors another small bite of stale bread. He suddenly returns the tiefling glances with a look out of the corner of his eyes and smiles at the eye contact. "Some wear faith but as the fashion of their hat." He says to no one in particular in a sweet cadence.
When Keres introduces herself, Carnadine nods to her and says, "my lady Keres, it is a genuine pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Carnadine, at your service." He holds her gaze long enough to signal that he would normally be bowing and kissing her hand if they were not manacled.
Keres raises an elegant eyebrow "Charm and flattery...in a prison cell, will wonders never cease...still, one must appreciate the irony of finding better courtesy with a fellow prisoner than among the superior Milta faithful, still, you have my thanks Carnadine, forgive me if I do not curtsy in response, I'm a little tied up about now".
Keres. Ogren. Carnadine. He files the names away, though he does not know why. Two were doomed to die soon. One would die later, but soon enough. Old habits died hard...though he would soon grow so exhausted with his toil that he likely could not think at all. He had heard of such things...men turned into little more than beasts in such a life of servitude.
He watches the one named Ogren's attempts to slip out of his bonds with faint amusement, nodding minutely at the one's Carnadine observations on the divine. He wonders how savagely the half-orc will be beaten, and mentally takes odds on the possibility of it killing him.
As though responding to Carnadine's whispers and chirping, along with the nearby rats, a group of six 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 him as Sergeant Tomas Blackerly. This is 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 at Carnadine and says gruffly:
You there! That’s the scum!
Get ‘em unshackled. If any of you
makes trouble, they’ll earn a thrashing!
Today’s your lucky day, scum.
You’ve got a visitor. How you ever
warranted such a fine lady is beyond me. Seems she wants
to say good-bye. Now step lively. We wouldn’t want to
keep her waiting.
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, the mystery woman's demeanor immediately changes. She drops all pretense of grief or concern. She is immediately all business.
Have you forgotten me, dearest?
the unexpected visitor says with a smirk,
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.
Carnadine removes his smile when the guards arrive and appears as a docile prisoner.
"Thank you very much for the message, my lady Tiadora. However, you have me at a significant disadvantage. How exactly am I and my new companions going to make this appointment with our mutual friend? Can your veil deliver us outside?" Carnadine is hopeful but clearly clueless on how to get to the manor house.
"Well isn't he the lucky devil." Paimon says as Carnadine is hauled off. He begins testing his manacles. They are tight around his wrists, but a little loose around the bars. He knows the others can hear his awkward rattling and, ever the showman, he tries to iron some grace into his movements. He lifts himself up so that he can feel the chain resting on his shoulders. Though he tries, he can not remember the last time he stood at his full height. As over rested muscles pop, he sweeps his elbows back and leans forward to twist his arms until they feel like they are on the verge of pulling out of place. But then they don't. He then stretches his tired muscles, pushing the limits of his available movement in the chains.
"This may be naive to ask, but do you believe he has a pardon?"
More likely hes about to be executed Keres replies dispassionately.
Paimon's face contorts, clearly upset that he did not consider that. "I suppose I expected more spectacle."
It is a fine silk veil of gossamer cloth. Only as it is held and closely inspected can you see small cloth patches of various shapes.
She looks at you with cold eyes, and a predatory smile is the only answer she has for your question.
Her message delivered, she rises and the guards return. Immediately, her demeanor once more changes and she is again a perfect picture of grief. “No, I can’t bear to leave you!” She gives you a kiss on the cheek. The kiss is ice-cold and feels somehow alien and inhuman.
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 the yours one last time and she briefly gives them a wicked smile. Three days, telepathically echoes in the your mind. Don’t disappoint me, dearest.
The visitation concluded, Carnadine is taken back to the cell by a cadre of guards and shackled once more with the rest of you. The cell is closed and locked, the guards exit the block, closing the door behind them. From the muffled sounds of conversation and footsteps it's clear that Blackerly and the majority of the guards have left, though two would have remained as per the norm.
Still shackled, Zaul looks the man over as he approaches once again. Once the guards had left, he smiled. "We figure'd you'd been done justice early. Maybe a reward for the poetry?" he asks with a coy grin. Shaking his head. "Jokes aside, dear boy, what, pray tell, just took place?" he asks, looking the situation over.
The runt looks after the tall man as he is led away, expression neutral. Such a strapping man, likely he had a female companion wanting a last hurrah before he had his head removed from his neck. Such things were not unheard of, though a little macabre, in the diviner's opinion. Still, the blood ran hot in some, particularly those restrained, and he envied the man some.
As the man returns, Eldros' expression doesn't change much. He would not begrudge the man his final moments with his visitor, whoever she was. He looks on with mild interest after Zaul's question, awaiting the inevitable response as he gets into a slightly more comfortable position against the wall.
Carnadine again behaves as a docile prisoner getting reshackled until the guards are gone. They wait.
Then, he takes the proverbial stage. He stands and smiles and whispers, "Lady and gentlemen, we have all been invited to a brilliant party to celebrate life... in a manor nearby our current accommodations . It starts in three days." He pauses to lock eyes with each of them as if he was beginning one of his best plays.
"A beautiful and mysterious lady delivered the invitation, as well as left me her veil. A veil, you ask? It's what a proper lady wears on her head in times of grief, my man." He pulls it out of his ragged shirt with a flourish.
"It is a fine silk veil of gossamer cloth. Upon closer inspection, you can see small cloth patches of various shapes. There's a potion bottle, a bag, two swords, tools of some kind, a window, a lantern, a pyramid of brick, and a rope. Have any of you heard of such a thing? What do you think we can do with it? Also, do any of you know the local moor and roads around here to lead us cross country?"
"We need to make our escape soon, because our gift will not survive an examination of my person as we have all received randomly and thoroughly. So time is off the essence." He sweeps everyone again with his gaze.
The ugly man seems a bit taken aback, going so far as to shake his head. NO! He would not give himself false hope! Nevertheless, his eyes continue to be drawn to the garment, like a moth to flame, and a small kernel of him wants to believe it is possibly, logical or not.
Eldros speaks in a raspy whisper, to attract as little guardly attention as possible. "It seems it is time to experiment. Have you attempted to wear the garment? Shake it? Fold it? Pull on it? Hold it and think of something you need?" The tiefling speaks in a rush, in a hurry to get this kernel of promise dealt with. He'd rather not let himself be consumed with false hope, if he can help it.
Carnadine smiles at the ugly man and replies in a whisper, "Now is not the time to experiment. What happens if I do manage to get something useful, but we're still shackled to the wall? The guards will take our gift away. No, the time now is to understand what we potentially have and how we can use it to escape."
While the tiefling fought back hope, the Fool embraced it. Reinvigored, he listens to the exchange between the vampire and the diviner. "May I?" he asks in a stage whisper, eyeing the tools. "I may be able to do something useful with those."
As he waits he pops his finger muscles and prepares for delicate work.
Zaul watches the display with little intrigue and if anything, he holds back a chuckle at the man's flamboyant method of show and tell. "Strange women and play rehearsal aside, I've got a theory." he whispers. Leaning closer to them to avoid the ire of the guards just outside, he whispers towards Carnadine; "It's needless to say that we can't do anything with a veil. Our "Person of Interest" is obviously smart enough to send us something we can actually use to get out of this hellhole, yes?" he asks as he looks around at them.
Finishing his drink with a haste; he develops his theory openly. "The Veil has some rather... tasteless... workings on it. All the more reason to assume that this thing is magical." he says as he points at it.
"Tonight, when the guards are sparse and drowsy and the warden, or whoever runs this place, is nice and cozy, let's let me, or the fellow who seems eager to, draw the magic from that veil, which is very obviously magic, somehow, and cause a ruckus... the 6 of us might be unarmed, but I imagine we can take the guards if they still think we're chained up. Element of surprise and whatnot, yes?" he asks as he looks at the veil and back at the guards with quick darting eyes.
"Also, I should inform the lot of you I used to be a renowned plague doctor before I realized there was malpractice in the ranks... You'd do well to let me have the potion within that veil, if it works the way I think it does." he says sternly. "It won't be poisoned, I imagine, but it'd be good to know what it does. I'm not much use without a bow or my formulae book."
Note this is said in a wisper as to not alert the guards. This is also all said to everyone who will listen the Ogren.
Hah that's quite the lover you have there sir I'm curious as to how she was able to get that item beyond the guard. Blackerly is a bigger fool than I thought I guess maybe he hasn't figured out my beliefs. So now we have a means but no plan. What shall we do?
Assuming we can get out of these shackles with that man's (reffering to paimon) skills how are we going to fight our way out?
I am adept at hand to hand combat can anyone here produce magic? And what of those blades in the scarf can someone use those?
Finally that foul smelling ogre next to us if we were to break free and kill the guards would we want to free him as well? Does anyone think they can convince him to help? I am usually not a fan of Ogers however at the moment beggers can't be choosers now can they?
And finally assuming that we can escape here who can lead us to this fine party we have been invited to? I have spent some time in the wilderness in the past but I am no expert in finding my way I got to a city by mere luck and time.
Ogren who has been trying to get out since the start is even more excited about the idea now that a means has been presented to him. Finally he turns to the diviner and says
this is what being faithful gives you. This is no doubt a gift from my divine lord telling me I am to escape and my quest of changing this land was a holy one indeed I am still of use to him. And at the moment we all still need eachother so I ask again please help in your escape so we may live to do what we please.
Zaul looks to the ogre with a bit of worry and whispers as well. "Frankly speaking I don't think we have a choice... if he sees us leaving, he's likely to cause a ruckus out of jealously or outrage, right? We'll need to get his attention and give him a plan..." he points out.
"Or. Or... we can just let him go in the middle of the night and use him as a distraction." he muses. "Decisions, decisions..."
"My allies, I believe you are missing an important piece of the puzzle. We might be searched before then. We must make haste, if this is truly a useful item. Again, experiment. So what if you fail or don't get what you want? What more can they do to you, good sir?" This last he addresses to Carnadine.
Carnadine finally sees the wisdom in experimentation and sense of urgency. He whispers to the group to solve the most pressing issue, the shackles, "If this pocket of tools contains lockpicks, who can use them to open our shackles?" The plague doctor and the fool both confirm that they could try .
He trusts in the group as opposed to an individual. "So I'm going to hand the veil to my lady Keres here . She will hold the veil while the doctor attempts to fish tools from the pocket or potentially removing the pocket to magically produce lockpicks. We don't want to drop the tools, right? Then, the doctor will release all of us. Sound like the start to a escape plan?"
Carnadine passes the veil to Keres.
"And the symbol of Asmodeus", Keres remarks, holding onto the veil and scratching at the star sign, before holding onto the veil so that Zaul can withdraw the keys.
Doctor please free us from these bindings. After that we shall equip ourselves with what we have avalible and defeat those two guards standing post.
Once they are defeated we can save the Oger.I fear if we try to release him now too much noise will be made and the guards will be able to alert the others this will require stealth above all else.
Perhaps after we defeat these two guards we could wait for the next two to show up for a shift change?
Ogren's eagerness to be free is becoming more and more apparent. It appears he is excited for something beyond that. He appears to be excited that he will be able to expose the weakness of this pitiful government by escaping the inescapable prison brandscar.