Welcome.
"So it is you who has trapped us in this place! What do you want with us, scoundrel?!"
RandomNinja draws his rubber chicken and is confused as to where his +4 shortsword went.
Throws bomb
The DragonThreat is real
Testing Alias and avatar.
Paizo forums use a form of HTML tag. Click the “how to format your text” button below your text input box to see the format. The standard uses are as follows:
ex.
i: italic, non verbal communication or emote.
ex. DragonThreat nods at the gatekeeper and enters the keep.
b: bold + quotes, speaking out loud.
ex. "Hello, my name is Bob."
"Pogen Plainroot, at your service"
Your possessions were taken when you were captured. All you have now is old, worn clothing, barely better than rags.
Around you is a dark, stinking, stone cell filled to the brim with unwashed prisoners, yourself included. You have been sitting here for days or weeks. It is hard to tell. They throw in a bucket of stale food once a day, and the only source of water is through the leaky roof. Thankfully, someone, or many someones, have scraped a small trough into the stone floor to allow ‘yesterday’s food’ to flow away and out of the cramped cell.
The first few days were rough. Prisoners cycled in and out. No one bothered to get to know one another. When the food came, it was a vicious free for all. More than one prisoner has died fighting over moldy bread. Today, that changed. A new prisoner was brought in by the name of Atherton. When the food came, he grabbed it and proposed a new system. If you say your name and trade or profession, you get an even share of the food. If you try to fight him for it, or take more than your share, he beats you until your brains run down the poo trough. One poor fool tried. Now the food only needs to be split eight ways rather than nine.
Breathing heavily, but with barely a scratch, Atherton speaks to the group. ”Have you had enough? Let’s all be civil here. I have shown you I can and will enforce order. THEY have us trapped like rats, why should we fight amongst ourselves when we all have the same plight. If you have issue with the system, speak up. Otherwise, speak your name and profession.”
After a few moments of shocked silence from the prisoners, he looks to you.
Darb grins widely, showing too many teeth and that look almost deliberately sharpened. He's normal height for a goblin and seems less put off than most by the situation. He's just under 3 feet tall, gray-green skinned with dark eyes, and effectively hairless. In a sing-song voice:
"I be Darb, a humble bard, my ghastly state please disregard."
Len is a wiry young man with deep brown hair and a hawknose. He smiles broadly. "I'm Len, and I have worn many hats throughout the years. I've been a professional performer, a scout for the military, and most recently a freedom fighter, which landed me here. I know my way around a marketplace or the sewers, as needed."
Rinvar scratches at his unwashed hair, stands up and walks over to Atherton. Rinvar of Waterdeep. I was assigned to the Second Expeditionary Force out of Cassomer. There... I have played by your rules. Food? He holds out a hand expectantly.
Pogen is physically looks like an average halfling, nothing too special. However when you meet his gaze, you notice an odd wildness behind his eyes. "I am Pogen, mercantilism is my trade, adventuring my hobby, although they often coincide." He says with a wink. "And who might you be, coming in here and taking over immediately?"
Intense slate blue eyes lock onto Atherton's.
"I am Ariawyn Lumaris. I was taken from my home in Rhodania... forced into a laborer's profession. I had just escaped that disgusting reaper clan... but then was hunted down and recaptured."
She looks young for an Elf and is tall with a slender, yet strong frame. Her skin is tanned a golden color from time laboring in the outdoors. Greasy, golden blonde hair traverses over her stained and worn clothing down to her mid back.
Her intense gaze falls to her feet and softens somberly..
"I just want to get back home...'
Not to strong male half orc
"I'm Harringtonthe half orc potionsmith and I'm a merchant."
Once everyone has introduced themselves, the thin human in the back speaks up.
"My name is Daryn Strand, but you can call me Strangeways, everyone else does. I'm a trapper. Looks like I'm the one that got trapped this time."
After everyone has spoken and the bucket is empty Atherton speaks.
"I'm the firm hand needed to turn a bunch of animals into something that might just survive this place."
He glares down at corpse.
"It is unfortunate that some would rather die than work together."
Two more days pass. The guards chuckle as they remove the dead body but dont even seem to care. Each day, Atherton distributes the food. Each day, he humanizes the group more and more. After names and professions came birthplaces and hometowns. Then favorite foods. Soon, the bucket is being passed freely around and casual conversation follows naturally. Strangeways is pleasant enough, but seems to speak only when spoken to. A bit of a loner it seems. Atherton joins in to keep things light, but he always seems to be holding back. Listening more than telling. Nothing malicious seeming, but he is not one to tell personal anecdotes or dirty jokes.
Tensions are still high, and the space is cramped, but life is slightly better. Other than the food, the guards seem to completely ignore the cell. Why are we in here, what do they want from us? Why has nobody been taken recently. With conversations come questions, and with questions has come a new type of torture it seems.
You also have time to look around your cell, rather than constantly watching your back for a shiv.
The ceiling is 10' high. Walls are carved stone. The poo trough is carved into the stone floor, and the drain hole has been bored straight though the rock. The iron bars are over an inch think and strongly secured to the walls. Out of reach, in the corner is a small dusty table that doesn't look like it has been used in a long time. Above it is a torch that never seems to need replacing. Along the other wall is a long chest.
As Len is learning more about their prison, he takes extra care to notice as many details as possible about their captors... what kinds of clothing do they wear? Do any of them walk with a limp? Are there any scars or other distinguishing marks?
After a while Darb slumps to the ground, leaning against the bars. He looks ill and weak.
A keen eye can notice a slight grin that appears at the corners of his mouth when there is hushed conversation about the sick goblin.
@ Len, you don't notice anything of particular interest other than the fact that they smell terrible. Worse than just unbathed. Like rot and decay.
@ Darb, they poke at you a bit with a stick.
"Aww, not dead. He just fakin"
Ariawyn moves over to the table and chairs. She dusts off a chair and a section of the table. She investigates its sturdiness as she takes a seat.
Then she quietly picks the dirt out from under her fingernails and casually watches the guards. They are the only other thing to look at around her besides the other captives after all.
Correction roll for perception
@Aria, it is completely random. Sometimes they come in 4-5 times a day, sometimes just once. Even noises and commotion go unchecked from time to time.
You also notice with your perception that the lock seems really fancy.
When there is a corpse, the guards will open the door and use a key. It is an ornate silver key. You are sure you have seen it glow for a moment before clicking to unlock.
However, as the guards come and go, they never actually unlock your cell. None seem to carry the silver key or any others, and the food is pushed through the bars.
Rinvar, after the initial unpleasantness, does his best to keep busy. Being a soldier, he spends his free time working out as best as he can manage in the cell. He has an eye on the door itself and wants to be ready if the situation changes and he needs to rush the guards.
Pogen looks at the ever-burning torch curiously, and casts Detect Magic.
Rakrjgb conserves energy and awaits opportunity to get his or just any alchemist toolkit.
@Pogen, yes there is magic in your 30ft aura.
Another day passes. No obvious signs of weakness in the cell or guards.
The next night, however...
During the night, once everyone has eaten and settled back into their section of filth. A commotion can be heard outside.
---------------
You hear someone outside the door say “ok, the guards are out. Go get him out of that damn cage.” Shortly after, you hear someone try the door, but it is locked.
You hear someone fumbling with the outside lock.
There is a commotion outside.
Ariawyn remains in her trance-like slumber...
Pogen snaps awake as he hears whispering outside. He quickly and quietly rouses Rinvan, Len, and Atherton, and points to the source of the noise.
Given that someone has passed all checks I'll continue.
-----------
After a few minutes, the door opens to the jail. Four greasy, ugly men head towards the cell door. They attempt to pick the lock but seem to be stifled buy a magical barrier. They give up on the lock. “F%~$ it. De walls aun't magic.” Before they leave, they dump the contents of the big chest and toss the magical torch within reach of the bars.
Atherton stands and looks to the prisoners. ”Stay quiet, get ready, we’re getting out of here. Take what you need, share the rest.” One of the men then hands him a wicked greatsword and a chain shirt.
I have added a new item to my quick links next to my name with 'loot log' everyone should have access. Manage as you will.
Rakrjgb wakes to the commotion and gets as ready as he can. He happily grabs his stuff and move out of the way and starts making potions(if still lock in the cell). If asked he says "making stuff to help us, need to concentrate"
Ariawyn wakes with a start, but quickly nabs up her things.
"Do you have a plan Antherton??'
Rinvar grabs his gear, dons it quickly, and nabs the bottle of whiskey for later. He rips off a little part of the greasy rags he had been wearing and wraps the top of the bottle in it. Just in case. He then moves between the group and the door - drawing his shield and a trident. "Stay behind me." he states with the flat tone of battle experience.
Rinvar moves 5ft from the door.
Len follows Rinvar out. He looks around closely for any traps on the door, and then opens it, picking any lock that might be on it.
Pogen quickly gathers his belongings. As he is putting his arms through his robes, he eyes the rest of the loot. Looking over the pile of weapons with disdain, he finally reaches for the Minor Healing Potion and says "I'll hold onto this if nobody cares too strongly," slipping it into a small pouch on his belt.
He hoists his backpack on and picks his trusty Staff off the ground, finally nodding to Antherton.
Initiative: Darb, Rinvar, Pogen, Harrington, Len, Ariawyn
You hear a knocking from the south wall.
A few minutes pass...
Atherton speaks up:
"Get away from the wall. I'm not exactly sure what is about to happen, but I doubt you want to be over there."
Darb picks up his items, the waterskin, and a dagger. He moves away from the wall in question and begins to play his lute to Inspire Courage.
Seeing that there are remaining items in the spilled pile, Ariawyn nabbs up the dagger, sling & bullets, waterskin, antidote, and antiplague. Then she steps to the east and braces herself against the far wall of the cell.
She is brandishing a dagger in her right hand. Wide eyed with confusion and excitement... She takes a moment to better assess what is happening
"I'm ready to get out of this hell hole"
Len grabs the extra Rapier and an everburning torch, both of which he attaches to his belt with little effort.
He then moves back from the indicated wall, expecting an explosion or something, and draws his own rapier.
Continues making potions first batch 2 ELIXIR OF LIFE, MINOR. if time for a second batch 2 acid flasks.
Rinvar grabs the anitdote and antiplague and hastily stuffs them in his backpack. He then overturns the small table, "Hide behind this if you want some extra cover for whatever is coming". Taking a long slow breath in through his nose, he readies himself toward the southern wall.
Taking a long slow breath in through his nose, he readies himself toward the southern wall.
Pogen grabs one of the cloth sacks from the pile and stuffs it in his backpack.
Ariawyn grabs a sack to put her new sling and sling bullets into.