Kenabres. Fortified city of the crusaders. At the edge of the Worldwound, guarding the border between civilization and a world full of chaos.
And your current prison. Whether falsely or not, you all have been accused of various heinous crimes, and been placed inside your own individual holding cell in the Kite, a small fort inside the city of Kenabres.
The small hallway of the Kite’s prison allows open visuals to each other cell, so you can clearly see the other four supposed villains inside of their cells. Having just been moved here en masse together, introductions may be in order. Who knows just when you’ll need each other’s help?
Avamedes hangs his arms out of his cell, idly humming a tune. As far as the jailors and other prisoners were concerned, he was in jail for drunk and disorderly behavior. He had been drunk, certainly, and disorderly without a doubt, but had the guards been just a bit more vigilant or a bit less pliable, his fate would have been a worse one.
He was in Kenabres, after all, to soften it for further infiltration by the cult of Pazuzu and the demon hosts.
The rest of the prisoners seemed like the exact sorts he was softening Kenabres for. Not that they needed to know that he knew that yet.
"Inheritor's breath, my head is killing me. If I'd known that Kellid mead would leave a hangover half as bad as it did I'd have stayed away from the stuff for good."
"Why hello handsome..." purred the firey red head the next cell over. She was wearing the shredded remains of a once fine ball gown and sounded bored. Languidly she added, "I'd offer you hair of the dog, but they confiscated my ice wine! Such a shame, wasted on dogs like them..." The venom in her voice surprised her, the words of her accusers, doxy, harlot and worse still ringing in her ears. Truth was she'd messed up royally and her idiot mark had likely sighed both their death warrants with his actions. The guards had been rough and resistant to her usual charms which was infuriating. Worse she couldn't see Tiki in this sordid little hole but she sensed his distress vaguely through their link.
When it came down to it there wasn't much she could do in this situation but wait, so she yawned and settled and prayed that something would come up.
Rrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrghh!
The picturesque woman stand at the small window slit of her cell suddenly turns around in an outburst of rage, grabbing the cell bars and shaking them - or at least trying to.
Is that all you can talk of, you degenerates? Alcohol? Do you have no pride or sense in you? Aren't you even here because you are some cultists, throwing away their life in service to a demon lord? Well, you wasted it now anyways!
She turns around without really waiting for an answer and begins to circle the cell, mumbling to herself.
Avamedes smirks, "Goodness, you must be a hoot at a shindig."
In the back of one of fhe cells a shadow stirs and chains rattle ever so slightly. Chained to the wall is a lean muscular woman who might have been attractive had she not been covered in hideous scars and nasty bruises. Long black hair oozes down over her slumped head leaving onlt a muzzle being the visible part of her face. Each arm ia cakes in dirt and dried gore from her slender curled fingsrs to her elbows. Said gore cascades from underneath her muzzle down over her chest to her legs. The air around her seems heavy and the fresh carving of a wretched jackal symbol still bleeding slightly emanates an ominous threat from above her breasts. More unsettling still is that she never appears entirely the same between eye blinks. Her hair is starting to curl on its ends, she seems to be getting thicker and more muscular by the moment, her scars don't remain in place to move as if slithering worms underneayh her skin. The only constants it seems, are her chains and the low steady breathing coming from behind the muzzle. Judging by the expressions and great caution the guards took one can only imagine what haplened to cause such haunted expressions.
Pearly laughter was the reply from the red head, "Alcohol is one of life's pleasures and pleasure isn't a sin, done properly it is an art form to be savoured..."
Still the woman's words made her look at the others with curiosity, she didn't know much about cults and nothing of demon lords. Being honest she didn't know much about religion in general beyond the teachings of the savoured sting, and nothing the wretched state of the chained one she felt confirmation that she hadn't missed anything important.
"Ah! Let 'em talk! They may be annoying but, I don’t know ‘bout you, but I probably won’t hafta hear it much longer anyhow," a man in a simple canvas tunic called out. His voice was hoarse from disuse and he had to clear his throat multiple times while speaking. There is a low “thump” as the man rested his head against the cold bars. Greasy hair hung over his eyes. ”They had to have set a date for by now, right? This waitin’ is just cruel.”
The thought of a nice mug of ale or even that ice wine wormed its way into Goresk’s forethoughts. He didn’t even know what - what was it? Ice wine? - was but it sounded delicious. He licked his lips. “I’d kill for a good mug of kellid, right now,” he grumbled. A grin slowly spread across his lips and showed too white teeth under a rough beard, “I’m pretty sure I’ve done that actually. Heh.”
One arm suddenly jutted out from between the bars and waved in no particular direction, “Hey, girly! What's that ice wine taste like?” he asked. “I can imagine sippin’ a mug of kellid, but not that stuff. Shit, I’m even startin’ to have trouble imagin’ the mead.”
The red head gave the greasy haired man, in what appeared to be a homespun tunic, a dubious look but answered eventually, "In Irrisen they wait for a heavy frost before harvesting the grapes in which all but a single drop of liquid freezes and that drop is sweetest thing you'll ever taste. When properly fermented and aged it comes out like a syrup, smooth and tasty like a peach but with a kick like a mule. There's nothing quite like it."
Avamedes' eyes briefly flit to Kelva. A worshipper of Lamashtu, had to be. An enemy, no, the enemy of his master. Good to keep tabs on her, at least, but best to hold his cards to his chest.
"That does sound exquisite."
He looks over at Goresk, "What's a big, strapping fellow like you do to end up in a place like this? I got a bit too rowdy from that Kellid mead and pissed off the wrong guard but you...well, you seem like a different breed entirely."
”Who wants to drink syrup, Girly?” Goresk asked, and, though his tone implied some level of irritation, he seemed genuine in his curiosity. He rocked his he ”Just give me a good ale, mead, or maybe a Whore’s Breakfast if it’s been a rough one.” He reached up with his other hand and made a halfhearted attempt at getting the hair from his face as if forgetting, or not caring, that he still rested against the bars.
Goresk gave chatty man an incredulous look. Who talks this much? Especially someone in a dingy cell in the Kite? Goresk narrowed his eyes and answered, his words coming slowly at first as if he still had not made up his mind about the man. ”The city watch brought me in. Said I’d interfered with a crime scene. And then...” he trailed off and went silent.
The red head rolled her eyes and yawned, "Rich people darling. People with refined tastes, people who appreciate the finer things in life..." Naturally this one knew nothing of the sort, not that she cared, chances are most of them were heading for the scaffold.
The breathing stops and a hoarse ragged cough replaces it as something visceral and bloody flies out of the muzzle. It gives way to a mocking chuckle as a sing songy voice calls from the shadow.
"Chirpy little songbirds preening in their cages."
"Ignorant they are of Mother's rages."
" Though the meat thinks to their weakness we've succumbed."
"Nevertheless," the woman grunts as she briefly tests the chains before dragging herself off the floor and lifting her head up in childlike wonder at the shadows dancing on the ceiling in the dimmest torchlight, "they come."
Suddenly the prancing woman stops in her cage, watching her fellow inmates with an open mouth in disbelief.
Finaly she steps closer to the prison bars.
They come?
They come? Who is they? And when?
Besides the obvious that you are clearly mad little birdie and could really, really use a bath and some soap, the rest here seems to think this is some sort of tea afternoon going over into a wine and dine. Let's hope whoever they are, they come in time and they come to get us out of here. Mendev needs me, the future needs me and the people need me. Else all will be lost due to these visionless crusaders and single-minded demons and their cultists.
Praise Azlant! We need to find a way out of here! I'm not subject to those fake laws. They have no jurisdiction over me!
After several minutes of all of you introducing yourself (or freaking the rest of the group out, in Kelva's case), a handful of armed guards walk down the small hallway.
A somewhat larger man pushes his way past the guards and points at Goresk.
"You there! That's the scum! Get 'em unshackled" he commands the guards to unlock his cage door and undo the shcakles. As they work on that, he speaks some more.
"If any of you make trouble, you'll earn a thrashing! Today's your lucky day, criminal. You've got a visitor. How you ever warranted such a fine lady is beyond me. Seems she wants to say goodbye, for the last time. Now, step lively. Wouldn't want to keep her waiting."
By this point the guards have freed Goresk from his bonds, and sternly attempt to guide him out of the cell down the hallway.
The red head was about to say something in response to the woman ranting about Azlant when the guards bustled in and she watched with amusement as Mr Homespun was marched out apparently to meet a lady.
Dryly she noted, "Seems he's a dark horse..."
Idly she noticed they only sent a handful of guards and she still had her spells, if only she could get hold of some sand the tables might be turned! She decided to inspect the cell's walls to see what they were made of.
Ah fine lady?
Ioriana looks like she's trying to remember who could that be, but also why she wasn't called first.
Whoever that might be? Probably got their reasons to call out that one first, or like at all.
Offering nothing else the woman stares for further moment before returning to the wall and settling on her haunches and staring at the door, waiting.
Despite the large guard’s warnings, Goresk immediately felt his muscles tense in preparation for a fight. ”If I’m headin’ to the gallows,” he thought, ”then I’m takin’ out as many of these bootlickers as I can.” He backed away to allow one of the guards to enter his cell and unlock his shackles.
In the instant before he lunged at the guard in his cell confusion and curiosity overtook his adrenaline. ”Did you say ‘visitor’?" Goresk asked. He relaxed and furrowed his brow. Who could possibly be coming to visit Goresk? Could it be that barmaid? "Nah, pretty sure she got dumped in a gutter after tryin' to pilfer the wrong drunkard's purse,'" he thought.
Still unsure of what was happening, Goresk allowed the guards to drag him from the cell.
Goresk is very roughly dragged down the hallway to what is likely an interrogation room and thrown into a chair. The rest of you can see both Goresk and his visitor, but strangely can't hear what either of them say.
A young attractive woman sits before Goresk, a fancy silk veil obscuring her eyes and most of her face. She seems to be speak as soon as Goresk enters the room, and the guards quickly nod before heading back down the hallway to their posts, leaving them alone.
Ah, my beloved. Do you not remember me?" the visitor smirks, before dropping the pretense of grief. "Call me Minagho. We possess a somewhat mutual friend that wishes you luck in your current endeavors." she reveals her gloved palm, which reveals a symbol you quickly recognize as the symbol of Deskari himself.
"Something big is about to happen in Kenabres. Something...devastating. We have some allied Templars of the Ivory Labryinth in wait at the Tower of Estrod. Make your way there after the soon to be events, and speak to Faxon. He will send you to Jeslyn, who will have more information. The password is "I've new material for the archive."
Minagho stands, and turns as if to leave, but then remembers something.
"Ah, yes, the veil. I'm supposed to give you this." She takes off the veil and hands it over to Goresk, and as she does so her form changes to that of a seductive woman with goat horns, goat hooves, and a serpentine tail, but her entirely eyeless face is her most disturbing feature. "I wish you luck, dearest. I'm sure we'll see each other again soon regardless." After saying this, she disappears, popping into some other place or dimension.
The group can hear this last part, as if the veil was what hid the sound of their conversation.
Jolene raises a speculative eyebrow at the silent conversation and considers whether there was some kind of magic silencing the conversation or if they're just very good at lip reading.
But she quickly came to the conclusion she had no idea, but something about this felt more than a little off. Still she was hardly in a position to do anything about it from within her cell and being honest (not her strong point) it wasn't really any of her business.
With a smirk she remarked to the others, "Check her out, a dark horse indeed!" and settled back down to wait.
Goresk grunted as the guards shoved him into a chair, ”You guys this rough with each other at night?” He looked from guard to guard but deflated a bit when no one reacted.
”’Dearest?’” Goresk cocked his head to one side, his eyes on the big guy. Still watching as the guards leave the room, Goresk started to answer the woman’s question, ”Yeah, I think I’d remember yo-” his words cut off as the woman revealed her true intentions. Goresk felt a toothy grin forming on his lips as she spoke.
Goresk stood there for a moment, holding the veil and processing the information Minagho just dropped on him. Something big. Goresk liked the sound of that. He turned to face the others in their cells, and, with the veil in one hand and the other over his heart, he called to others, ”I’m ‘bout to bust outta this place. Who’s comin’ with?”
In the desert, i rode a horse with no name...
Ioriana starts to laugh as she hears Goresk, looking out for the guards rushing in to beat him down.
Hahaha nice, yeah of course, hahaha, just open those locks and free us all, then we're gonna ride with you...hahaha
Avamedes shrugs, ”Nothing better to do. I’m im.”
Well that was unexpected. On her feet gripping the cell bars and eager now Jolene cooed, "I could get to like you Mr Homespun. If you could do something about these locks... Then I'm in."
"'Spose I need to figure out how to get the locks open, eh?" Goresk said. He turned slowly in the room looking hoping to find keys hanging from a hook. "Anyone see where they've got 'em stashed?"
"Release me." The hoarse shadow demands.
Not even a full minute passed until loud church bells began ringing through the entire town. You can tell the church is nearby, because it is excessively loud inside of your cells.
As Goresk is making his way back towards the cells with the rest of his unlikely allies, he sees the rest of the guards at the far end of the hallway seemingly exiting the small prison you all currently reside in.
That's when it strikes those of you who are currently sane, today is Armasse! The holiday where all those goody two shoes crusaders gather to celebrate...something. Everyone in the entire town, minus a few handful of essential guards, will be gathering in the square to take part in all sorts of fun festival activities.
Hearing the bells Jolene smiles saying "A stroke of good fortune! The crusaders are going to be busy for a while, if only we can open these doors it'll be easy to overpower the token force that's left."
Jolene considered shifting into the likeness of Homespun's girlfriend, but on balance she felt her current form would draw less attention. Besides keeping a few tricks in reserve seemed sensible given the crowd it seems she was falling in with.
"Let's just see if they left us any goodies, eh?" Goresk muttered as he crept down the hallway. He had never been the best softpaw around but he was counting on the ringing bells to cover any extra noise he might make.
Hand me that veil, will you?
Ioriana takes the veil from Goresk and inspects it a bit closer.
Mh as i though, this is magical and...
She rips something from the veil.
...yes...it contains some useful items!
Suddenly she has a dagger and thieves tools in her hands, giving back the veil to Goresk.
She then turns to open her cell door.
"Well, our fortunes continue! It seems someone's rather invested in getting out of here."
Ah that was easy. Such fools.
She smiles to Goresk.
Thank you very much, my dear. I guess i will give you some company on the way out here. Perhaps we should bring some more company?
Let's see....who looks useful. Who might be patriotic enough to fight for Azlant? Any volunteers?
"Release me", the hoarse voice says again somewhat more insistently.
Goresk finds the guard room completely empty, as promised. A chest off to one side is labeled "contraband" in Common, and a few standard weapons hang from different racks on the wall. A table against the wall has a set of playing cards and a handful of unfinished lunches, as if the guards here had just up and wandered off mid-game.
Dropped under one of the chairs next to the table, Goresk finds a ring of silver keys. They quite obviously open the cells in the hallway, and also might be used to open the nearby chest.
Jolene said nothing when Azlant talked about patriotism, although privately she wondered what drugs she'd been taking and if they where any good...
Still by the looks of it Homespun had found the keys so things were looking up!
Goresk glared at the angry, dark-haired woman. ”Mighano and the bells of Armasse might buy us a little bit of time, but ain’t none of us gettin’ outta here by ourselves.” He jammed a key into the lock on Jolene’s cell. ”Hey, tall, dark, and b%+&#y,” he said to Ioriana as he opened Jolene’s cell, ”you wanna let that one out too?” Goresk nodded toward the cell containing Kelva.
He moved over to Avamedes’ cell, ”You know, under other circumstances, I’d leave you to rot in here. Just have it be me and three beautiful women. Well, two and whatever that that thing is,” again, he nodded toward the cell containing Kelva. Goresk leaned close to the bars, ”I don’t particularly like the way you talk. Reminds me of the kinda person I might like to just strangle.” The muscles in Goresk’s neck and shoulders tensed when he said “strangle” then slowly relaxed. ”But you’re in here. Which means you deserve to be strangled...or worse. So...I think I can look past your flaws.” He unlocked the cell and pulled it open.
Avamedes returns Goresk's intimidation with a vicious, hungry grin. There was a glint in his eyes, one of a life filled with pleasure and torment, "Well, I might not mind that from a handsome chap like yourself. That's neither here nor there, I suppose."
He steps out of the cell, "Now then, we've got a prison to break out of. If push comes to shove here, I'm sure you'll find quite a bit more than just overlooking my flaws to recommend me."
After Goreks suggestion Ioriana looks at Kelva, considering.
I think she's a bit nuts.
Yah well, why not. Might have it's uses.
She goes over and unshackles Kelva.
You better behave and do something constructive. Or destructive in the right way. There you go.
Ewww. You urgently need a bath with soap. Lots of soap.
When Homespun unlocked her cell, Jolene swept out and blew him a kiss saying, "Why thank you! Lets go release our companions and then its time to teach these oh so dull crusaders how to party!"
When Azlant released Nameless and suggested soap, Jolene just about managed to hold it together. Oh but today was shaping up to be one to remember like a fine wine, such characters! Who knew what they were going to come out with or do next. There was going to be violence for sure, but who would be on the receiving end?
The woman says nothing as the woman approaches her cell. She says nothing as she opens the gate and steps inside. Her only reaction is to present her shackles and rub her wrists when the heavy uncomfortable things are removed. The smell is everything imagined and worse. She stands up and reaches behind her head working the belt on the muzzle until she eventually pulls it off and lets it fall to the floor without regard. She pads softly out into the hall on unshod feet and looks down the hall to where her brother and her blade lay.
She turns to head that way and as if just remembering there was more than one person here she stops and says, "you chirp too much little birds," she turned to look at them flashing a wild smile full of white fangs more akin to a feral canine than anything born to humans carrying maniac energy and the promise of pain to come, "I want to hear how you make the meat scream!"
Her whatever passes for inspiration given she moves into the guardroom to find her things or failing that a tool to bring ruin.
With everyone out of their cells, ”One last bit of business before we go-GAH!” Goresk’s words turned to mild retching as the feral woman ran past to the guardroom. He coughed a bit and pointed, ”Yeah, just follow her,” he coughed again. ”They’ve got a trunk in there. I think we can find some equipment.” Goresk held the set of keys tight in one hand and held the other out to let the others go by. Somewhat to put space between him and the smell and somewhat to keep an eye on them all.
A trunk? Oh that's good, they might keep our stuff there. Let's go have a look. I had a chain shirt and my bow.
Ioriana wrinkles her nose, but says nothing more in regards to the aroma wafting around. She then goes to retrieve and don her gear.
Avamedes makes his way over to the trunk, finding his bow, dagger, and armor. "Excellent."
In changing into his armor he removes his shirt, revealing to the party the unholy symbol of Pazuzu carved into his chest. He pauses for a moment when he realizes the rest of them can see it. He could lie of course, but that risked the big one deciding he was better off strangled.
No, he'd tell the truth. The rest of them seemed to be equally unsavory characters.
"I suppose my jig is up. While I wasn't imprisoned for any heinous acts, it was only a matter of time before the guards found my true allegiance." He gives a slight bow with a sneering grin on his face. His tone has changed markedly. It still carries a veneer of charm, but the tone of a zealot drips from every word, "I haven't properly introduced myself. I am Avamedes, devoted servant of the King of the Wind Demons, Pazuzu himself! Now, that information stays with us, if you wouldn't mind. As far as the general public knows, I'm a harmless dandy, not an infiltrator serving the demonic hosts."
Jolene sighed inwardly as she eyed Handsome, why where all the attractive males into religion? The moment passed quickly, she didn't really know or care who Pazuzu was. Judging by the state of the others she wanted to know even less about their gods or demons. She once heard a wise man say, when dealing with coworkers is best to avoid talk of politics and religion.
Still Handsome's words left an uncomfortable silence she felt the need to fill. Giggling she added, "I'm Jolene, I like vengeance and I like men. Especially ones I can wrap around my little finger..."
She scooped up her spell components and murmured, "Now where did they put Tiki..."
Ioriana musters Avamedes really critically.
Are you so desperate to serve a master that you carve their symbols into your own flesh? As long as there aren't too many unpleasant winds coming out of you, i don't really care. At least you keep it to yourself, unlike...
She glances over her shoulder around the room.
Now, ehm, be a nice dandy and hand me my stuff!
As you are all gathering your equipment and putting it on and such, your cute conversations are interrupted by an extremely loud, extremely close crashing sound. It seems as if something is almost walking through the building, narrowly missing the prison by chance or fate.
The Kite, also known as the massive etched shield that adorns the side of the fortress you currently reside in, explodes off of its resting place from the inside. A flurry of hide and horns and claws screams by you as whatever did it passes by, somehow ignoring or not seeing you at all. Rubble crashes around you, rocks and stones falling in a haphazardly manner before finally coming to a stop as whatever it is moves on into the city. You hear your companions and familiars crying out for help, their cell door smashed open.
Screams and the sound of battle echo from outside, and before too long a thunderous roar can be heard echoing around town. Something big has happened, and that something big sounds fairly scary.