Fundamentally, Kid did not understand patient people. More than that, he distrusted them. The sooner the guards presented themselves for slaughter, the better.
Posh arches a brow as the guards return with Rendylyn in tow, watching the shackles close once more with professional efficiency.
"Well."
He turns his head just slightly toward Treesa, voice calm and clipped as always.
"It appears the silent knife has been returned to its sheath... for now."
Then, with an almost indulgent glance toward Morthos:
"I assure you, my faith remains intact. I simply prefer it tempered with accurate cartography. Mirages, after all, are beautiful right up until one dies of thirst beneath them."
He offers Rendylyn the faintest nod as she settles back in her place.
"Welcome back. You missed a rather spirited discussion about optimism and slaughter. I imagine you would have enjoyed it."
Once Rendylyn was locked back up, and after the guards left; Dargon grimaced when the bestial voice yelled he was hungry. Wonder what he eats? he remarked and squirmed against the bracers that held his arms, trying to slip his wrists out of the manacles that held him.
Treesa watches quietly as Rendylyn is shackled again. There was no sign of new wounds. Perhaps there really was a visitor?
”Quiet Posh. Rendylyn has a part of your map, at least to where she was taken. Listen and perhaps learn.”
”So Rendylyn, can you tell us about your visitor?”
Rendylyn, having waited until the guards left, whisper-hisses,"Be silent a while. Let the guards' attention wander. We have an opportunity; I'll tell you when it's safe."
Geburah waits patiently in the dark until she hears a bit of noise that suggests the guards are distracted--chatter, coughing, footsteps, whatever. Then she waits a little longer. And a little longer.
Finally, she whispers, "It seems someone wants to meet with us. He sent a spy in to arrange it. She slipped me this." She opens her fist and shakes a long, white piece of cloth out of it. "What it is, since you probably can't see, is a silk veil with tools and weapons and implements embroidered on it. I think we could use it somehow, to get free...if we can puzzle out how it works."
She starts playing with the scarf, trying different things. She takes hold of an embroidered Asmodean unholy symbol and tugs on it.
Once Rendylyn was locked back up, and after the guards left; Dargon grimaced when the bestial voice yelled he was hungry. Wonder what he eats? he remarked and squirmed against the bracers that held his arms, trying to slip his wrists out of the manacles that held him.
Angling curiously toward the sound of the creature, he looks back to Dargon and says, "I would gather... anything," in a matter-of-fact tone.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Morthos looks calmly over at Rendylyn as she is returned and listens in. After she finishes explaining what she has acquired, "Perfect. It is exactly what is needed. I would suggest you simply 'act' to take the weapons and/or tools, and they form within your hand."
Treesa listens to Rendylyn's description of what she was given. It sounded like some tools. Was this a test? Probably, and it made perfect sense. A 'patron' for the whole group. But they needed to prove themselves worthy. If this group couldn't work together then they weren't worthy of the patron.
For now she can only wonder who the patron could be. Obviously not someone in the system. If these tools included a way to release the shackles, at the very least some of the guards were going to die. And if the group could work together, this land would be shaken by what we will do.
Deciding that there was nothing that she needed to say Treesa stayed silent and listened.
Posh stirs slightly in his chains as the veil is described, and the quiet shuffle of anticipation settles around the cell.
"A map and tools hidden in embroidery… How delightfully Baroque."
He tilts his head faintly toward Rendylyn, his voice laced with polite curiosity.
"Tell me—does this patron of yours also deal in wine? I could chart a much better escape with a pair of shears and a half-decent red."
Still, it seems the cartographer may yet have a road to draw after all.
When the Archstar appears, Rendylyn grins fiercely.
"Hail, Prince of Darkness! Hail, Asmodeus!" she hisses, every trace of her earlier petulance vanishing into ardent worship.
For the first time, she tosses her hair away from her face and opens her red eye wide. She lifts the silver pentagram to her face and glares through it, her pupil almost seeming to blaze crimson in the dark.
"By this token, we can...well, trust is not the right word...rely on our new friends. They are the answer to my prayers." She thinks back to the cold kiss Tiadora gave her and feels an unexpected shiver travel up and down her spine. Asmodeus always answers prayers, she thinks. But sometimes the answer is mocking laughter.
She shakes her head to clear it. "We may just have joined The Resistance."
"There's other objects embroidered on the veil--I recognize two daggers, a lantern, and some rope. I don't know whether there's wine in them, Posh, but there's also four bottles, three equally mysterious sacks, and some tools I don't recognize... and a window, by Geryon's gangrenous groin. If we can get to an outside wall, that might give us a way through it."
"Once we're out of the prison, we'll still have to escape pursuit. That's when we'll need to rely on our mysterious benefactor. The spy gave me directions to his safe house. How lucky I am to know I'll have all of you protecting me during our escape, since I'm the only one who knows how to get away from all this!"
Rendylyn kisses the Archstar, ties it to one end of the veil, then ties the veil's other end to her hair, so it can dangle concealed down the back of her ragged shift. "Easier to hide a small bundle from the guards, until we have made our plans," she whispers. "What do you all propose?"
Treesa hides her disappointment when Rendylyn hides the veil without exploring the other items.
”So there’s nothing that looks like a key? Actually that makes sense. We need to be worthy of meeting with the patron. The tools might be useful to release the locks though. Do they look anything like picks?”
Dargon glanced down past Posh at Rendylyn and said, low As Treesa said perhaps they might be a set of lock picks? If they are, I am particularly skilled with them. Im sure they thought of everything
((DM did my escape check roll of 26 above slide my hands out of the manacles??))
"How would I know what lockpicks look like? See for yourself...but remember that the more items we take from the veil, the harder it will be to hide them if the guards come in."
Rendylyn unties the silk veil and passes it to the others as best she can, concealing the Archstar in her palm.
Treesa considers Rendylyn’s words and nods agreement. ”Valid point. Just the tools. If they are lock picks Dargon might get us free. Then we decide the next step.”
Kid needs nothing besides a free hand or foot. If there's anything on that veil for him he would be surprised, perhaps amused, but if not, he will not be disappointed.
Dargons wrists were sore from pulling them, but what else was new. His entire body had been sore for the last few days. Then he saw Rendylyn drop the veil to Poshes waiting hands, who kind of tossed it up into Dargons hands. Straining his neck he looked up at it, and sure enough there was a kit with picks and small bars...just what enterprising gentleman such as himself might need. He looked down at Rendylyn and said They are tools I can use. Now how did you get that star off've it.?
"Put your faith in Asmodeus, Dargon, then pull on them. If it doesn't work for you, pass the veil back--we've already seen my faith is enough to work this miracle."
"It might take Dargon some time to pick all our manacles. The rest of us should be ready with some ruse to distract the guards if they come in. Lies, intimidation, whatever works to keep them from spotting his tools."
He shrugs Ok Dark Lord, If you are real, allow me to pull these tools and use them to free us from this forsaken hold.
with that he reached to tug the thieves picks from the veil and from a patch they turned into the real thing. A wry smile came on his lips, though he had to hold his head back in an odd way. He held the case in one hand and said Posh catch the veil and pass it back to Rendylyn
Once the socially adept gnome indicated his readiness, Dargon dropped the veil back to the gnome awaiting hand. He then very carefully pulled a pick from the case and bent his wrist down to go to work on the lock.
((ooc-DM can I take 20 on this and go slow, taking his time? If Yes Dargons pick locks would be 28. If No see the roll below))
Posh had watched Dargon pull out the tools from the veil, and he was fascinated by it. He took the veil from Dargon, and rather than pass it back to Rendylyn as instructed, he took a moment to take a full look at it, to discern what all of the items on the thing were.
Even taking 20 only gets you a 28! The GM said the DC is 30! I don't get Inspire Competence until level 3, so I'm no help here.
Rendylyn narrows her eyes as she regards Posh. The gnome was one of Alichino's chosen, his sharp intellect queerly bent around the idea of maps. Had he always been mad, or had imprisonment and looming death thrust his thoughts into terra incognito? Either way, his presence here was a good omen.
"Tell me what map of the future you see there, Posh, my fool."
"Pick the manacles?" says Kid, somewhat incredulous. "If any one of you had just put some tension on the chains about your feet we would have busted out of here a while ago. If you need a map to see the future you're pretty f+$$ed. I don't think whatever's out there that's 'Hungry' is gonna wait for two hours while the thief tinkers with his irons. We need to speed this up. What else is etched into that piece of cloth?"
Treesa hears the 'Kid' spewing nonsense and listens for any response from the guards. Hearing nothing she harshly whispers, "Are you trying to call the guards and end the one chance that we might have!?! Wait and let the trained lock smith open the lock and not make the sound of chains being ripped out of the wall and crashing to the ground!"
"Patience will release us. Making noise will get us all nothing but death!"
Kid turns to Treesa. He can't tell if she's serious with the sudden whispering or if she's having a laugh. He decides to laugh, loudly. "Trained locksmith? You don't know this guy from any other dirty bum. We're not on our clock, we're on theirs. Our locksmith gets until that thing comes in here and starts eating us. No pressure!"
Treesa grinds her teeth and listens once Kid Stupid finally shuts his mouth. Hearing nothing she glares at him wishing there was enough light in this place for him to see the level of hatred on her face. "No. I don't know him personally. But he recognized the picks for what they are. That at least gives some indication of intelligence and training. As for "that thing", it's obviously another prisoner here and likely chained just like us. From the sound of it I'd guess that it's about as smart as you are currently acting and possibly stronger than you. But I don't hear it making a lot of noise about escaping, like discussing picking the locks, thief tinkering with his irons, or busting out of here. The guards are likely used to hearing him call out 'hungry' and just ignore him. Maybe that's good cause his voice might mask some quiet noises that we might accidentally make."
Kid laughs again. "You can't spot a set of lock picks? What is it you do, again? Besides trying to sound smart, I mean."
”I’m a witch. Pity I can’t hex your mouth shut!”
As the Kid went on finally Dargon could stand no more. keep quiet you're ruining my concentration he hissed out. not everything can be handled with brute force. At times, such as this, Finesse is needed. If you cant tell, i do know what im doing. Just have patience. Youll get the chance to punch things soon enough.
Kid would shrug if he could. Nothing to be done right now but wait. One way or the other, his time in the prison would soon be over.
Dargon curses under his breath and begins to work anew on the lock muttering softly this is damned hard struck up like this. fortunately these picks are better than the sort Im used to...after working on it for a bit. he said Be patient Ive got this. If maybe your Lord ...um our Lord could guide my hand
Worried this is their only method of escape, Kid chimes in, "Who's got that veil? Maybe there's a potion or a flask of acid etched into it."
I can't my fate in the hands of a single rogue...
"There are four," Posh replies evenly, his eye watching the shimmer of silk as though it were a treasure map.
"Each a different implement—no doubt chosen with care."
He lets the words settle before continuing, his tone faintly amused.
"I could, of course, chart the course for extracting them now. Though if this is a test, as some suspect, we may wish to consider which key unlocks which door… and in what order we turn them."
Even the best escape requires more than haste. It requires a hand that knows the shape of the locks.
Morthos remains quiet as the others converse, listening thoroughly while clearly buried in thought. The young one is no doubt a follower of the pathetic gods of the pathetic king. I believe he has been purposely placed here to thwart our plans. With his continued impulsive, thoughtless, impatient actions that are bound to get us eliminated, there is no doubt that they knew Asmodeus would aid us in our time of need. So they placed him in here with us.
His thoughts refusing to betray him whatsoever as he sports a look that says absolutely nothing, Morthos gives a slight 'Hmph' and thinks, Brilliant. Well done, pathetic king, well done. But we are not dead yet. It'll take more than a a young fool to put an end to us.
Treesa hears the 'Kid' spewing nonsense and listens for any response from the guards. Hearing nothing she harshly whispers, "Are you trying to call the guards and end the one chance that we might have!?!"
Yes. Yes, he is, he thinks matter-of-factly.
"Patience will release us. Making noise will get us all nothing but death!"
She speaks common sense, yet the infiltrator/betrayer refuses to listen. As expected.
”I’m a witch. Pity I can’t hex your mouth shut!”
Truly a pity it is.
"There are four," Posh replies evenly, his eye watching the shimmer of silk as though it were a treasure map.
"Each a different implement—no doubt chosen with care."
He lets the words settle before continuing, his tone faintly amused.
"I could, of course, chart the course for extracting them now. Though if this is a test, as some suspect, we may wish to consider which key unlocks which door… and in what order we turn them."
Even the best escape requires more than haste. It requires a hand that knows the shape of the locks.
"Extract them as you will, Posh." Morthos responds. "We've only to gain from it."
Rendylyn cocks an eyebrow at Dargon's little slip. "Our Lord indeed, Dargon. In time you will grow proud of being His."
"While he gets the locks open, let me tell you all what lies behind that door."
"Kid, that gift of yours for irritating people might be useful if the guards come. Draw their attention away from anyone with contraband or unlocked shackles with a few insults. Or offer to suck their cocks. Whatever comes naturally."
Posh leans slightly toward the embroidered veil as it continues to reveal its secrets, one pale brow arching at the contents.
"Three sacks... Curious." His voice is quiet, thoughtful, and tinged with mild academic offense.
"I confess I am somewhat perplexed by the choice. A backpack would seem the more practical vessel. Unless, of course, we are meant to look like traveling spice merchants while fleeing a military fortress."
With a resigned sigh, he gently presses a fingertip to the first of the embroidered vials.
"Let us see what the cartouche reveals."
He plucks it delicately from the silk and raises it toward any light that might be cast, tilting it slightly to read the label with practiced scrutiny.
Even maps must begin with a single point.
Dargon held his breath after he struck the manacle scraping it loudly with the pick and looked at the cell door expectantly for long seconds....before realizing nothing was occurring.
He then redoubled his efforts.
((ooc here we go again GM that was 10 less. and the second one was a nat 1))
Hearing the thief failing miserably, and with no other options for escape on the table, Kid tries something.
"Hey guard! You've gotta be bored as s&@@ out there. Well it's pretty dull in here too. If I'm gonna die, I'd rather die standing on my own two feet, facing the axe. How's about we make this a day remember? Well, for you, anyway. I'll let you rough me up, maybe you kill me, what do I care. Just give me two free hands and a puncher's chance and let's have some fun. Whaddaya say? One against one, you against me. Your weapons and armor against my bare fists. Come in here and beat the s+&+ outta me."
Dargon quickly tries to hide the pick set behind his hands and manacles
Posh too will hide the veil and potion.
Morthos slowly raises his head, peering toward the cell entrance, wondering if the guard will enter and accept the monk's challenge. This will be interesting if the challenge is accepted. We shall learn a lot.
Kid spits. "Don't be a coward. There are two of you. Let me down and fight me like a man!"
Rendylyn watches the Kid take his beating with mild interest. Turns out the guards of a prison where people are executed for dueling aren't interested in one-on-one fair fights with their prisoners.
Well, the experiment didn't cost her anything. The prisoners might even get a few hours of silence to carry out their plan if the Kid didn't shut up until they beat him unconscious.
She takes the opportunity to study the guards carefully, the dark prison being clear as day to her eyes. She especially looks to see where on their bodies they keep the keys they used to open the cell door.
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Narrowing his eyes, They are attacking him. Interesting. Maybe he is not a spy for the pathetic king. If they continue, he will soon be unconscious. That does us ill. It will take all of us to escape. "Young one, hold off taunting the pathetic guards just for the time being. Your revenge will come soon enough, I guarantee it," he says plainly, completely unconcerned about the guard standing right there.
He then calmly looks toward the guard, "You would do well to retire for the night and go home to your family if you have one, lowly guard. You will not receive such an offer again," he states matter-of-factly.