Where were we? Let's see. Ah, the War of Succession.
Only eighty years ago, our kingdom weathered a war of succession fought between the largely half-elven nobility of House Barca and the human dynasty of House Darius. Both had claim to the throne along with supporters amongst the fractured nobility of the isle.
On the Plains of Tamberlyn just north of our capital city, two great armies met and decided the future of this dominion. One army was commanded by King Jaraad of House Barca, a great half-elven hero mounted on a griffon, the symbol of his house. The other was led by Markadian of House Darius, a young upstart paladin who would not bow before all the gods of the Talirean pantheon. House Darius was gravely outnumbered but far more fiercely committed to their holy cause. Much of House Barca’s army was paid mercenaries fighting for nothing more than gold.
Two large stone spires, the so-called "Lords of Tamberlyn", made up the battleground. A brook splits the spires crossed only in one place by an ancient stone bridge. Which of you two can tell me why this is signficant? Correct, Thomas, although not very deep, this brook would be difficult for men in armor to cross.
So,Markadian took to the field first, seizing the bridge with his knights and positioning infantry on both his right and left flank. The famed archers of Barrington and Embryl, with their mighty longbows of yew, were positioned behind the infantry.
Outnumbering his foe many times, King Jaraad hoped for a quick victory and sent his mercenary crossbowmen forward to bombard the knights on the bridge. The hope was that a few volleys of crossbow shot would kill many of the knights and paladins of House Darius. Then, deprived of their leadership, the rest of the soldiery would likely flee from the battlefield when the king moved the bulk of Barca’s army forward.
However, the crossbowmen advanced too close and the infantry on Darius’ right flank performed a surprise charge. The charge caught the mercenaries off guard and they fled with hardly a shot fired. So disgusted was the knight commander of Barca behind the mercenaries that he ordered his knights to charge forward through the “cowardly retreating rabble” to attack the relatively exposed Darian infantry. The result was a chaotic muddle of panicked mercenary and tangled knights. It was then that the Darian archers begin to fire their volleys. The arrows rained down on the knights and took a princely toll on the Barcan force.
King Jaraad saw the muddle that his left had become and ordered the other pincer of his army forward. They moved swiftly at first along the banks of the brook but soon found themselves equally bogged down in mud. They too began to receive a hail of arrows. Then...Samuel! Get your head out of that book, pay attention like your brother.
Finally, the Barcan left pushed through the mercenaries and charged the bridge. It was here that the heaviest fighting of the battle took place. On the bridge of Tamberlyn the knights of Darius met the full might of the Barcan army and held the line. The Barcan army was packed in so tight trying to cross the bridge that there rear ranks were at the mercy of the Embryllian archers.
King Jaraad could watch the slaughter no longer. He flew his elite personal command – a dozen knights on griffons to the other side of the bridge hoping to flank the defenders and break their line. What he encountered instead was the young Lord Markadian and his personal guard.
You both know of the many stories of the battle between Markadian’s knights and the griffon riders, so I needn't go into much detail. Suffice to say that after a great battle, a dozen dead griffons littered the field and only Markadian of Darius and King Jaraad of Barca remained combatant. They fought fiercely and in the end, Markadian slew Jaraad upon the banks of the Tamberlyn brook and claimed the throne of Talingarde.
At the end of the day, the battle had proved to be a slaughter. The military might of House Barca was broken and House Darius came to power. It would have been easy then for House Darius to seek revenge against their former enemies but instead King Markadian I called the Victorious showed mercy. He allowed the nobles of House Barca to keep their lands if they would only swear loyalty to the new king and bow before the great god Mitra. The offer was accepted and peace once more came to the land. The crisis of succession was over and the religion of the isle was decided. Mitra, our Shining Lord, became the head of the Talirean pantheon. Our proud Talingarde became a kingdom of light.
Light!
Darkness.
For too long you have languished in the darkness of your cell. Although sweet, sweet chaos surrounds you in this pitiful attempt at a prison, your time here has grown stale. New opportunities need to be found. And they have.
You’ve just come from a meeting with a strange woman named Tiadora, who seemingly held the guards under some sort of supernatural sway while she was here. She explained to you that her friend might have an offer of employment for you, if you can escape within three days. Child’s play. To aid you, Tiadora gave you directions to her friend’s manor (across the moors) and a rather curious veil (easily smuggled back to your cell balled up in your fist). Your hands and feet are manacled once more.
The night falls. The darkness creeps. Your escape awaits.
• 2 daggers
• Bullseye lantern (full, lit and shuttered)
• Hempen rope (50-foot coil)
• Sack full of needed spell components (worth less than a 1 gp) and common clothes
• Thieves Tools, Masterwork
• Window (2 ft. by 4 ft., up to 2 ft. deep)
• Potion of cure light wounds
• 100 gold pieces
• Unholy Symbol of Asmodeus (silver)
Note that the window patch will create a window (and therefore a hole) in a nearby wall. If there are no nearby walls, it simply turns into a common wooden window frame. It cannot be placed on a living creature however. Once removed, a patch cannot be replaced.
You also have a new cellmate. Earlier today, an ogre was moved into the westernmost cell, heavily drugged yet still kicking. To your delight, you overheard that two guards died just trying to move him here.
The prisoner was immaculate. Somehow no speck of filth had managed to stain him. He had no beard, his hair was carefully groomed, and his skin bore the blush of health. None of this was because he particularly cared about being clean. It was simply because it did not occur to him to appear dirty.
He would later look back on this and realize his mistake, but for now he was still learning, still remembering all the details of his deceptions. In the moment, he felt he had remembered enough. This place had taught him all it could. It was time to leave.
There was a shift and a clatter. The prisoner squeezed his hands and feet out of the manacles in a way that was entirely wrong. Then he changed, his form folding and rippling into something smaller, which pressed between the bars like an octopus. Then he unfolded and was himself again.
He had done this many times, but this time would be the last. His gaze turned to the ogre's cell, considering. His voice was surprisingly pleasant, rich, smooth and deep He spoke the language of Giants.
"What would you give to leave this place, Ogre?"
”Nifty trick you got dare, little’un.” The ogre whispers, surprisingly soft and well spoken. ”But I got no treasure no more to trade you. Why not scamper off and be free? Why help a big bad ogre when I could crush you like a...cat.” With only a faint sliver of light from the crack under the door exiting the cellblock, little is visible, much less the ogre himself. The sound of heavy chains clinking rings out in the gloom.
"Looks can be deceiving. I am not so easy to crush as you might think." the prisoner smiled. "I am offering you your freedom. If you would rather stay, I can respect that. It is a choice I might have made myself a few weeks ago. There will be none left to feed on when I am finished though, so the prospect of remaining may be worse for you than it was for me."
The prisoner unraveled some threads from a silken handkerchief and spilled a set of sturdy lockpicks into his hands.
"I can think of many ways for one of your stature to be useful to me. A simple trade of service is what I propose. I get you out. You serve me until we reach my destination."
One of the picks spun between the prisoner's fingers, glinting in the meager light.
Something between a rumble and a growl comes from the cell - a laugh perhaps? "For a little'un with no sleeves...you got a lotta tricks up your sleeves. I agree to your little plan. A warning," the ogre says with a crack of his knuckles, "I dunno who, but someone's getting hurt."
"Oh, of course. I look forward to that."
The prisoner made short work of the locks on the cell door and the ogre's manacles.
"You may call me Erebus." the prisoner said as he swung the cell door open like a valet.
”Grumblejack,” grumbles Grumblejack. Rubbing his wrists, he staggers to his feet. ”Poison. Weapon of cowards. Let’s give dem somethin else to be cowards about.” Grumblejack lumbers towards the exit of the cellblock.
"We are going to get along nicely." Erebus smiled.
A pair of hushed voices trickle through the door.
”S’a damn shame about Wester. Why’d he have to dash himself over the rocks like that?”
”At least it got Blackerly to cut the games, damned unprofessional.”
”Unprofessional? Half the men here are drinking on the job now!”
”Well you can’t blame em. Need something to take the edge off working here. Better than jumping in fear every time that bloody cat creeps by.”
”I’ll drink to that. Do think it could be the warden’s…ya know...familiar? Like sent to spy on us?”
”The warden couldn’t care less about us, holed up in his tower. Might do the place some good if he jumped for the rocks.”
”Aye. I’ll drink to that.”
Grumblejack waits impatiently, muscles tensed in anticipation.
Erebus very carefully tested the latch on the door.
The handle turns...it isn’t locked...but clicks as it does so...could the guards have heard?
Erebus held the door right where it was, unlatched now, but not open. He waited, listening.
”Did you hear something?”
”Nah, just that stupid ogre snoring.”
”See you call him stupid now, but if he were to walk through this door right now, hoho you’d be singing a different tune my friend.”
Grumblejack looks ready to charge.
Looking forward to the tune, Erebus once again opened the door like a valet.
The ogre reaches a meaty hand through the doorway and drags a prize back with him: a very surprised guard. Through the doorway, the other guardsman seems to be caught in mid yawn.
Somehow, Erebus' limbs matched the length of the Ogre. He grabbed the other guard and pulled him through the doorway as well.
Then he pushed the door shut.
The two guards stumble into the cellblock; one entangled by your grapple, the other taking Grumblejack's fist to his chest. The grappled guard finds his struggles to escape in vain. The other stares dumbstruck at Grumblejack before wrenching his sword from it's sheath only to slash at the air.
Erebus clamped down like a serpent, strangling the life out of the guard.
Grumblejack jumps backwards into the shadows, taking a swing and a miss at the guard in front of him.
With a yawp, half in defiance and half in fear, the guard keeps pace and manages a nasty slice across the ogre's arm.
"Idiot! The signal horn! GET TO THE DAMNED SIGNAL HORN!" the grappled man screams. After trying and failing once more to break free, he draws his sword in preparation to cut his way loose.
The skin between Erebus' second and third fingers split. A fissure tore through his hands and down the length of his forearms. There was no blood. Instead, a black membrane was revealed as his arms each split into two skinny forelimbs.
The membrane was like a window into the night sky, black with distant lights glinting coldly in the void. The skinny forelimbs that still had thumbs continued to choke the life out of the guard. The other two lengthened and went for the eyes.
The man in your clutches goes limp. Wriggling as he was, his face ended up rather...messy. It doesn't seem like he'll be waking anytime soon.
Meanwhile, Grumblejack launches another assault on his opponent, clocking the man square in the face and sending him to the floor. The ogre lifts the fallen sword between his fingers as if holding a table knife. "Looks like the little'un stuck me with dis thing. I'll just hold it for safe-keeping." Checking the guard reveals that he is unconscious, but still breathing.
Grumblejack took one of the longswords.
With the guards dispatched, you are free to examine the rest of the the floor. The room beyond contains no furniture aside from a chair and some wall pegs. On the wall hangs a set of keys to match the cells, along with a small signal horn. Next to the chair lies a mostly empty flask. No sound can be heard from the staircase leading down. A fireplace, unlit, has a chimney which goes both up and down, and smoke rises from bellow, but little can be heard save the crackling of the fire on a lower level somewhere. The chimney is large enough for a regular sized human to climb up or down.
Connected is a room with a table and a few more chairs. What has happened in this room you know all too well - bloodstains mark the corners and the odor of burning flesh still lingers.
"Best you return the favor," said to the ogre, gesturing to the man who had stabbed him. "Can't have him waking up, can we?"
While Grumblejack dispatched the unconscious guard, Erebus shrugged out of his prisoner's clothes and put on the guard's uniform and armor. Then buckled on the weapons belt and quiver. He took the second guard's key as well. His arms fused back together.
Then he put on the man's face.
His features slid and shifted, filling out until he was indistinguishable from the corpse on the ground. He smiled at Grumblejack.
Then he headed to the stairs.
As you dress yourself, the other guard's head lands among the sooty logs in the fireplace. "We are gonna get along nicely." Grumblejack grins as he wipes the sword clean on the headless guard's uniform. When your features shift the ogre gives a start. "You done enough magic yet?"
The stairs lead down to a simple chamber serving as nothing more than a stairwell, lit by a single torch sconce. A door leads to the rest of what must be the ground floor.
Erebus led Jack down the stairwell, stopping him before they reached the next floor. "Wait here."
Then he walked out into the chamber below.
While Grumblejack hides himself from view, you step into the room beyond.
A long hallway, about 10 feet wide, greets you. 10 feet ahead are two doors facing each other from the walls, leading to the east and west. Five feet ahead of the doors are a pair of torch sconces in a similar arrangement. 15 feet from the sconces is a single door leading to the west. Just behind, at the end of the hallway, stand two guards in front of a heavily reinforced double door. They stop talking and eye you when you enter.
"Snuck down here for another snack Warrick? The remnants of your last meal are still on your bloody uniform!" one of the guards says, gesturing to your bloodstained uniform. The other guard points to the western door closest to you. "Ya know Blackerly's in his office. He could walk out any minute and catch you red-handed."
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"I just ate. Came down because the Ogre's giving us trouble and we wanted some backup just in case. You mind giving us a hand?"
"Hmph, damned brute, thought we'd roughed him up bad enough already." The guards draw their padded clubs and begin coming down the hallway. One of them pauses for a moment to grab the signal horn. "Better safe than sorry. Let's make this quick," he says with a nod in the direction of Blackerly's office.
The first guard steps through to the stairwell but the one with the signal horn stops just outside. "After you."
Erebus shrugged and started up the steps.
As you march up the stairs, you notice the room above has gotten significantly darker. The torch is gone from it's sconce.
"Oh sh--urk!" The guard ahead of you let's out a startled cry as a longsword swings out from the shadows and catches him in the chest.
Erebus swiped the horn out of the hands of the guard behind him.
"OGRE! OGRE IN THE DUNGEON!" Ducking under another sword swing, the wounded guard attempts to push past you but fails miserably. In spite of your efforts, the man stays on his feet
Behind you, the other guard drops his club and switches to a longsword, holding the point towards your back. "What's wrong with you, man! Blow the horn! A guard's been injured!"
A second later, the injured man collapses from the force of another sword blow.
"The ogre is the least of your worries." Erebus said, his stolen face splitting into a grin that was far too wide.
The bottom half of his forearms snapped out like a dragonly's jaw.
The final guard prepares to scream until he realizes he has another more important matter to deal with. Namely, the matter of being dead.
After a moment, Grumblejack leans his head into the stairwell. "Thought I mighta chopped you for a moment," he says nonchalantly.
Erebus collected the keys belonging to these two guards and took a moment to slide into another face. "I would prefer you didn't. I have not yet finished reinforcing this body. I am many things, but at the moment resilient is not one of them."
Erebus took a moment to change into a different tunic, one without bloodstains.
Then, he carefully tore the shoulder of his uniform a very visible rip and pointed it out to Grumblejack. "There. Now you will know what to look for even if I take a new form outside your view."
Kicking the dead guard out of the way, Grumblejack squeezes into the stairwell. "Hmph. We goin down now? I smelled something cookin through the chimney."
"In a moment." Erebus said leading the Ogre down the stairs. He tossed the signal horn on the ground and stepped on it. "Wait here. Let me make sure there aren't any other guards who might surprise us."
Nothing can be heard in the room beyond.
Doors lead to the north and south. Some sort of activity can be heard coming from the south door.
Erebus listened, opened the door, looked atound for a moment, then shut the door.
Then he went across the hall and opened the door directly across from the first one.
This room is a plain affair with a single desk and a couple of chairs. The desk is cluttered with paperwork.
A door bearing a lock leads to the north. Another door leads to the west, from which you hear a loud cough.
Erebus was drawn to the sound of sickness. He moved to the door and tried to open it.
Erebus walked in and glanced around. "That doesn't sound good. You alright?"
A slick haired and somewhat fat man hastily tosses something into the wardrobe he stands in front of. Even without his usual tabard you recognize this man as Sergeant Blackerly. It appears you've caught him in the middle of undressing, although he still wears his chainmail. "What in the hell! Wilbur, what in the lord's name are you doing down here? And knock dammit!"
Aside from the wardrobe, the rest of the room contains the items of Blackerly's slovenly bedchamber. On the desk nearby is a longsword and keyring.
Erebus grinned like a predator. Why would I want to do a thing like that?"
He reached out, his arms snapping like a viper.