After your arrest, you are tied at the ankle to a few dozen other prisoners by a stout length of giant hair rope, forming a chain and stuffed on a wagon. The wagon, a glorified cage on wheels, does not fail to hit a single pothole as it trundles up the north road.
When you finally reach your destination, it’s late afternoon. You see a couple squat mud-brick buildings and a sea of tents interspersed with livestock and more wagons. The haze of a silt estuary is visible a mile or so past the buildings to the northwest.
The Overmap
You are on the west side of the smaller circle (the pit)
The cages are opened and men and women wielding spears encourage stragglers out onto the cracked earth, the rope at your ankle keeping you in a queue of sorts. The line of slaves is dragged towards a wide hole in the ground near one of the structures, whose top is covered by some kind of bone latticework. As your draw nearer, an assembly line of men in leather armor works the queue with grim efficiency.
First, a pair of guards strip you of your armor, weapons and valuables. They aren’t shy or gentle about it.
Sleight of Hand may be used to try and smuggle an item through here. The DC is 15. If successful, you may attempt to smuggle another item through, but each requires another check with a cumulative +2 DC beyond the first. This check can be made untrained.
Other skills and abilities may also be helpful.
Next, you pass by a small fire pit, another guard holds you down as an apron clad dwarf hefts a thin stone rod from the pit and plunges the end onto your shoulder. The burns form a mark, a straight line with 2 symmetrical curved lines extending out from its midpoint.
This causes 1 point of fire damage
Finally, as you get to the edge of the pit, a bored looking guard asks in a repetitive monotone ”Are you trained as an artisan, slave?”
An ugly hunchbacked mul tromps up and down the line, barking orders and whipping slave and guard alike at the slightest provocation.
While all this is going on, a fair haired man in a loose robe lounges on a low chair about thirty feet to your side. A small table sits next to the man covered in foodstuffs and a silver goblet from which he periodically sips and a large hide umbrella keeps the whole affair in the shade. One of the templars who brought you here approaches him, talks for a minute, then money changes hands. After the exchange, a low hum can be heard coming from the man and the air around him shimmers slightly. The guards pay it no heed.
Twelve more guards keep watch with crossbows a couple dozen feet back on either side of the line.