OPEN
Dotticus Patronus
In the kingdom of Talingarde, many crimes may send you to Branderscar Prison, but the sentence has but one meaning. You are wicked and irredeemable. Each of you received the same greeting when you arrived. You were held down by rough hands and branded upon the arm with a runic F. The mark signifies ‘forsaken’ and the painful scar is indelible proof that each of you has betrayed the great and eternal love of Mitra and his chosen mortal vassals.
Condemned, you face at best a life of shackles and servitude in the nearby salt mines. Others might await the “gentle” ministrations of the inquisitors so that co-conspirators may be revealed and confessions extracted. Perhaps, some of you will be spared this ordeal. Perhaps instead you have come to Branderscar to face the final judgment. In three days, the executioner arrives and the axe falls or the pyre will be lit.
Through fire or steel, your crimes will be answered. You have all been chained together in the same communal cell dressed in nothing but filthy, tattered rags. Manhandled and mistreated, any finery you once possessed is either ruined or long lost. No special treatment has been given any prisoner – male or female, commoner or noble – all of the forsaken are bound and imprisoned together. Your feet are secured by iron cuffs tethered by one long chain. Your arms are secured to the wall above by manacles. A guard is posted right outside the cell day and night.
Little thought is given to long term accommodations. At Branderscar, justice comes swift and sure. Escape seems hopeless. You have all been well searched and every attempt to conceal anything on your person has failed. And if you could somehow slip your bonds and fly out of this prison, where would you go? Who from your former life would want anything to do with the forsaken?
Despised, alone and shackled – all that you can do now is await your doom.For each of you, your old life is over. For each of you, hope is a fading memory.
Dexter inspects the make of the manacles holding him for structural weakness.
Crafts
Your hands are shackled above your head and you don't see any flaws. The room is windowless the bars are solid and the locks not overly fancy. You see no guards but you know they went to your right when they left. You're sure they're not too far away.
Bleepos looks around, inspecting the environment once again. His life is all kinds of crazy but, then again, what to expect? He's a Goblin!
As he turns his immense balloon head, he feels the shackles on the arms. He can smell the oxidation and the rats that already passed there and starts daydreaming while chewing the chains.
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Leekoo moves his head back and forth, banging it against the wall he was chained to. "Leekoo Weekoo all chained up, Leekoo Weekoo out of luck," he sang softly to himself and he gazed around. There were a few long legs chained up with him, and-"Leekoo Weekoo a goblin see! Leekoo Weekoo will soon be free!"
Enough time had passed to give Lukasz a chance to realize the situation he was in. His inner thoughts had already left the chaotic emotions of pain, fear, and despair behind. Only two emotions still resided in the man's mind, resignation and determination. Resignation that he would die here, burning for his transgression, but only if he didn't break free. His determination brought that last thought to the surface. For though he was shackled with but rags on his body, the nobleman had faced tough odds before and won. The difference this time, was that failure would mean death.
He attempted to peer through the dim light to get a measure of the others with them. From the low chatter, one of them must be a goblin. I just hope he is sane enough to keep out of trouble, for less trouble for the little creature likely meant less trouble for him during these last three days. "Keep your horrid rhymes to a minimum goblin," the tall, slender, and slightly muscled man whispered. "All we need is for the guards to not take kindly to your words. Instead, use your words wisely and tell me about yourself. What better way to pass our last days than in the company of like souls?"
For anyone who can see Lukasz, they would see a man who would be well-kept, if it weren't for the ratty clothes, dark disheveled hair and small bruises, courtesy of the prison's guards. Though raspy from lack of water, Lukasz's words were eloquent and educated with an accent that marked him as coming form Mathrayn or Daveryn for those with a knowledge of linguistics.
The light is not dim. You all can see each other fairly well from torches shining through the bars.
Dexter cocks his head.
Goblins, in chains? Their crimes must be terrible indeed if they were brought here to be punished instead of summarily executed.
Dexter whispers to the human after hearing his manner of speech, "Nobleman, have you any allies who may aid you in escaping this wretched place? If so take me with you and I shall double your fortune twice over..."
The voice comes from an enormous bald headed man. Even sitting down it is clear that Dexter is large as the rags given to him stretch against his muscular frame. Surprisingly for a man so large his speech is rather eloquent, the inflection of the commoner in some of his words though betrays his class roots to Lukasz.
Dexter looks to the others chained around him in greater interest now that the silence has been broken.
Zedekiel cast his eyes over this... group that he's been chained up with. He rolls his sore shoulders, gazing at the runic mark on his arm silently. Thin lips curl into a small smile.
Life in the salt mines... Fools... Still, it would be much harder to change in the mines than it would in a place of my own choosing.
The smile faded to a small smirk as he looked his fellow criminals over. A few humans, and a pair of goblins. He was mildly surprised they didn't just outright kill the little green beasts like most would. That singing didn't annoy him too much, but it seemed to annoy the dark haired nobleman. Then, the large one offered payment if the other could help him get out of there.
"More than two would be required to obtain freedom from this place. While I do not fear the mines, Branderscar is far more managable." He flashed them a smile, showing off some very well taken care of pearly whites. "I dare say none of us are looking forward to whatever is in store..."
Those that bothered to look would see Zedekiel as a slender man, with the kind of toned definition one would expect of someone who spent most of his life traveling. The rags were far too large on his form. Long black hair, pale skin like that of one who was just becoming sick covered with the tales of guards that were unnecessarily rough. There were a few signs that betray an unnatural origin. His eyes were the color of brilliant pale sapphires, his ears ever so slightly pointed, and the almost perfectly porcelain color to his flesh. The sign of his infection was currently hidden, thanks to the rags covering his inner thigh.
He leaned back, adjusting to get comfortable. A rather confident smirk still plastered on his face. Whether it was the mines, death, or freedom... All options were appealing to him. He'd get what he wanted in some form or another.
"Ah, I'm quite looking forward to plying my skills and tending to the sick and wounded again." He looked up at his wrists in the shackles, flexing his abnormally long digits.
Eyeing the others condemned by the foolish ideals of their great nation, Isabella scoffs at the goblin's wishful thinking. "You'll soon be free from this world, sure enough." she says to Leekoo, turning with a sneer to Lukasz. "Well said, sir. Truly, I couldn't ask for a better end; as it stands, I suppose this lot will have to do as substitute." Emphasizing her point, she nods to the other goblin, steadily gnawing on his chains with a distant expression on his face.
Rattling her own chains, Isabella winces slightly as she regains a measure of feeling in her manacled arms, missing Dexter's desperate offer. "Mitra damn your story time, your words would best be spent helping to figure a way out of this damn place. If anyone has any ideas, feel free to share them." she adds softly to one one in particular, falling silent herself, expression thoughtful.
Looking up at Zedekial's words, a smile plays at the corners of her lips. "Do you fancy yourself a healer, then?"
While not particularly attractive (many would call her plain), Isabella's figure is a near perfect example of the human female form. Anyone with the eye and knowledge for it could see that her very musculature appears too perfectly positioned, and the overall proportions to her body are unnaturally symmetrical. Yet, even with her seemingly designed perfection, there are just as many small aspects to her physiology that look eerily out of place.
Of course, a less thorough examination shows Isabella to be nothing more than a normal, exceptionally healthy, human woman.
Zedekiel's gaze came down from his binds, settling on the woman as a brow popped up. "Ah, but I have forgotten my manners then. I am known to the common folk as Kavor Krian, wandering street physician, healer of the sick and injured, and the hand of mercy to those without the strength to carry on. Seeing as we are sharing a prison cell, you may all call me Zedekiel..."
From his demeanor, and perhaps some rumors floating about in taverns and clinics, it was obvious he wasn't fixing everyone. Those that had heard of him knew him, or his 'common name' in any case, knew that he tended to murder almost as many patients as he helped. By the time anyone ever got around to investigating, he would be long gone, and nothing was ever proven.
Dexter chuckles, "Never heard of you and unless our circumstances change and quickly no one else ever will again".
"He's unfamiliar to me, as well, but it's an interesting physician that counts the latter group among his primary charges." She smiles at the 'merciful' doctor. "My name is Isabella. I, too, saw to the ills of the common folk," She says with a respectful nod, "Although I'd say I benefited those I tended with more than your.... brand of mercy." she adds, noting the man's apparent pride in helping those with no recourse beyond death.
Not too hard to see how such a twisted man got himself here. She muses, once again eyeing the other prisoners, more warily now. Doubtless these others warrant equal watchfulness.
Turning, a thought occurring to her, she addresses Lukasz while gazing at Leekoo the way a smith might appraise a mound of unsmelted ore. "Case in point: if you're truly bothered by its rhyming, sir, I could try my hand at removing the beast's vocal chords for you. There's a certain challenge, working with such small parts, and I'm quite curious to see how much functionality they would retain after removal.." She pauses, eyes gleaming at whatever strange possibilities extracted goblin vocal chords spark in her imagination.
After a moment she laughs lightly at her own dark joke and rattles the chains above her head again. "Assuming, of course, that we could manage to escape this cell by some ungodly means."
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"Leekoo Weekoo always rhyme! Leekoo Weekoo pass the time! Leekoo Weekoo make church go boom! Leekoo Weekoo bring lots of doom!" Leekoo rhymed some more with unnatural glee. His pointed teeth gleamed in the torchlight, his large eyes wide in madness. Wearing just a loincloth - for why would they have a supply of goblin-sized prison rags? - his prison mates could see the cuts and bruises gained when he was caught. However, when the female threatened to take out his ability to rhyme, he stared at her in fear. "Leekoo Weekoo no more rhyme? Leekoo Weekoo rather die! Leekoo Weekoo gnaw your throat! Leekoo Weekoo then will gloat!" Staring at the manacles connecting him to the wall, he tugged hard, seeing if there was any give in them. When nothing happened, he decided to follow his fellow goblin's example and started to chew on the metal.
Bleepos looks at the others, visibly happy with the presence of the other Goblin - especially because he seems to be from a different tribe and not know him from before.
Bleepos is famous pirate, daring corsair of the seas! Bleepos great navigator, feared by men and big toothy fishes.
He gloats a little more.
Bleepos hungryyyy! - he yells, almost crying.
Craning his stiff neck to both stretch it out and face Dexter, Lukasz whispers to the big man, "Before I was discovered, I would have a few contacts who would be willing to help. Now however, I doubt they would be willing to admit knowing me. That is the price I suppose for going against the Shining Lord's doctrine, flawed as it may be. Worry not however, even with the goblins, the group arrayed here seems resourceful enough to effect an escape, all we need in an opportunity...and a plan."
Gaze shifting to Isabella's perfect form, Lukasz would have taken pleasure in drinking in the woman's body with his eyes, if it weren't for the fact that it was almost too perfect and the former barrister being much more accustomed to women less muscled. Focusing his thoughts back to the situation at hand, he listened to the others speak, following up with, "That would be unadvised good lady, for though the little creature's words are an annoyance..." turning to Leekoo and Bleepos in emphasis, "...so long as our little friends can control when they voice their thoughts, I am sure that they could both have a place in what might occur in the future." Now addressing the group as a whole, Lukasz looks to his chains as he says, "I am Lukasz Alazario, a name little known outside of the legal circles, but you might better know me as Tomas D'Aquina, who penned a series of articles that ultimately landed me here for Blasphemy, of all things." Lukasz spoke the last words with disdain, as if not believing that what he had penned was blasphemous.
Dexter nods to Lukasz, "YOU are Tomas D'Aquina? It is no wonder your contacts have abandoned you, what with your questioning the "wisdom" of Mitra as if there were no other Gods in the world. To support you would be to call into question their own beliefs, the light of the Shining Lord blinds the people to the tyranny in which we all live.
I am Dexter Quigley. The greedy crown seeks to pay as little as possible for all of its goods. So I provided them with goods which are worth the value they paid for them, nothing more nothing less. I am here because the soldiers of the King are incompetent in battle. As if my weapons and armor would fall apart at first strike, my goods functioned just fine when they were preening on the practice field..."
Dexter turns to the two Goblins, he has had very little interaction with the creatures. He is not sure what to make of them. "Tell me Leeko and Bleepos, can your small wrists slip out of these manacles? These manacles seem more designed for Humans, test it out".
That one is clearly insane, even by the standards of their typically unstable race. She thinks, smiling politely at Leekoos' continued rhyming and the returned threat. Not that the other one seems much closer to sanity, with those delusions of his. Isabella had never heard of any seafaring goblins, and thought the prospect quite comical.
"Shhhh!" She hisses as Bleepos starts yelling, before switching to his native language in the hopes of more quickly reaching an understanding with the two goblins.
"Samo malo dugo noge vic. Leekoo je vrlo dobar u Rhyming, ali moramo biti tihi, za sada, malo prijatelja. Mi ne želimo stražari doći do imamo plan, i nazivajući ih da nam sada mogao upropastiti taj plan prije nego što čak i da ga."
She nods to Lukasz and Dexter as they introduce themselves.
"I'm not much for philosophical treatises myself, but I have certainly noticed this nation's complete lack of adequate leadership. I would say it's a pleasure to meet you all, but I suspect that even under different circumstances you're not the sort of folks one wants to run into late at night." She chuckles, turning to Dexter. "With the exception of our honest merchant here, of course."
You hear the klanking of cell bars opening and closing and a number of guards coming.
Bleepos looks at Dexter with curiosity and smiles, showing his teeth full of small oxidation bits from the almost intact chains. He doesn't chew again - instead, he tries to escape the manacles.
He finally looks at Isabella and speaks.
Duge noge dama je u pravu ! Bleepos će se ponašati . Bleepos kao Leekoo riječi previše.
Long legs lady has a good point! Bleepos will behave. Bleepos like Leekoo words too.
A group of six armed guards stop outside your bars led by a rather fat Sergeant that all of you recognize as the man who burned the F into your skin.
He points at Luckasz, that's the scum, grab him. If any of the rest of you make trouble we'll beat you within an inch of your life, you'll spend the rest of your days in here in pain. Ain't worth it is it? He looks back to Luckasx. Today's your lucky day. A pretty young thing's come to say goodbye to you, though I don't know how filth like you could have such a pure and beautiful lady like that all to himself.
Luckasz of course realizes he has no idea who this person is as he's unshackled and frog marched out of the room.
With a look of surprise at being singled out, Lukasz went willingly as the guards entered the cell and removed his irons. Combating the numbness from the awkward position his arms were in in the irons, he rubbed his wrists as he thought, Who would still affiliate themselves with me? If not for the power that I still have with me, I would think that Asmodeus himself would have abandoned me after my failure, as he was led away.
You are escorted roughly to a meeting room down the hall and shoved into a chair. There waiting for them is a hauntingly beautiful woman in an elegant black dress and soft silken veil. She looks as if
she is headed to a funeral. Her hair is so platinum as to almost be white and her eyes are a vibrant almost unearthly green. She clearly has been weeping.
Oh dear, I'm so happy you're still alive. She turns to Sir Tomas. Could you please leave us be good sir. We've not seen each other in so long.[b]
Sir Tomas agrees and leaves the room.
[b]Have you forgotten me, dearest? the unexpected visitor says with a smirk, dropping her pretense of grief.
Call me Tiadora. We possess a mutual friend who would like to meet you and your fellow cell-mates. Unfortunately, our friend is unwilling to visit you in your present rather shabby accommodations so it seems you must escape. Don’t be so dour. Just because it’s never been done before is no reason you can’t be the first.
If you manage that, cross the moors on the outskirts of town. On the old Moor Road you’ll see a manor house with a single lantern burning in the second story. There our mutual friend waits. That is all I know. He did want me to give you this.
She takes off her silken veil and wipes away a few fake tears with it.
Something to remember me by, dearest.
Isabella nods to Bleepos as she hears the guards approaching. "Dobar. Good."
She listens silently to the Sergeant's threats, eyes boring hatred into the fat man's skull, and watches as they lead Lukasz away.
"Lucky is right." She says once the guards have left. "I believe this may be our best chance. If we can come up with a plan by the time they return, Lukasz might be able to help the rest of us escape."
Sense Motive
Dexter shrugs, "Perhaps..." he replies to Isabella and he struggles with the manacles.
Disable Device
"But there is little we can do chained to a damn wall!" he puffs in frustration unable to do much of anything.
Your attempts to free yourself fail at least in part to clumsy fingers and lack of tools.
Looking around as the guards lead him towards the meeting room, Lukasz does his best to map the rooms he passes through in his mind.
After being shoved into the chair, Lukasz glares at Sir Tomas and the other guards as they leave the room.
Once the guards have left, Lukasz turns his attention to the entrancing woman sitting across from him. Listening to the woman speak, Lukasz plays along with the woman's story, saying, "Indeed, you have me at a loss of words my lady. Apologies for having to see me in such dismal garb. I do appreciate the visit however." Taking the veil in hand, he smells it for a moment, as one would a lover's scarf. As he does so, he uses that time to examine the scarf for anything that might be special about it, before balling it up and hiding it in his closed fist. "Please let our friend know that I would be happy to meet with him, were circumstances different."
The differences are fairly obvious and may me examined in the campaign info. I will be waiting for the rest of the rolls before continuing.
Zedekiel sat silent, having fallen into a contemplative state of observation. He'd watch and listen to the others, flexing his fingers every now and then in a mostly futile attempt to stave off the numbness of the awkward position.
When the guards arrived, he looked the fat one up and down, examining him closely while listening to his words. He flashed a charming smile at the guards when they came in to obtain Lukasz.
As the guards went about their business of unshackling Lukasz, he decided to look at their captors, trying to examine anything that might be of use about them, along with any distinguishing marks. A limp, trouble lifting one's arms perhaps, maybe even labored breathing. Where specifically they slip the keys on their person, and what kind of positioning they took during while escorting Lukasz, if he could get that. Anything that could be of use in a potential jail break, and any features to keep track of who stood out.
The sergeant is the one who opened the doors, the key is on his belt. 4 guards watched you intently through the bars while one of the guards unshackled him. The one with the key placed it in an interior pocket of his uniform.
Zedekiel rapidly committed what he observed to memory, then turned his attention to the other two. "Key to the shackles kept in interior pockets, four to guard and observe, separate keys for the cell doors... They certainly know what they're doing."
He looked around to each of them, then blinked twice at the goblins. A small smirk quirked at the corner of his lips. "Hmm, these little fellows seem to enjoy chewing on things... Shame they can't reach the pockets with the key. Then there's the trouble of figuring out how to get the thing after it's regurgitated..."
Eyebrows popping up, he glanced around at all of their manacled hands. He was looking for any of them who looked like they'd be able to break their hand in order to slip out of the manacles and still use it well enough to handle the key. "Fragile yet sturdy, fragile yet sturdy...." He would mutter to himself, while tugging on his hand to try and slip it through the manacles to get a feel for how tight they are.
You notice nobody truly of interest, though You're sure with the proper break the pirate goblin would defintitely be able to get his hand free.
That smirk widened into a proper smile as his eyes lighted upon the pirate goblin. Well, goblins are supposed to be insane...
"Captain Bleepos," he began as he leaned over, speaking quietly should the guards still be near. "A daring corsair like yourself would no doubt long to return to the freedom you once had, yes? I've an idea that, while painful, could serve to help us all escape. Assuming, of course, a small break here or there is something you're not scared of. There are two very qualified doctors sitting right here, after all..."
Bleepos looks excited at Zedekiel.
Bleepos loves breaking!
He doesn't quite understand what else the human meant, though - but his eyes are fairly psychotic right now.
Zedekiel nodded, and glanced over to the doors to see if the guards were paying close attention, or just standing idle. He smirked a bit and turned to the goblin. There was little chance the goblin would understand Elven, and even less Dwarven... He'd try Draconic first, and if that didn't work, he'd see if someone could translate to goblin.
"Putasne intellegis me?"
He looked both goblins over intently now, along with everyone else. As far as he was concerned, this had a fairly good possibility of working.
Picking up Zedekial's train of thought, Isabella chuckles at Bleepos' slight misunderstanding and seizes on their first real glimmer of hope. She nods appreciatively at the man's attempt to use Draconic, but cuts his question short with an explanation of her own, uncertain how much time they might have before the guards return with Lukasz.
"Čovjek želi Bleepos mu slomiti ruku tako da Bleepos može skliznuti slobodan od lanaca i dobiti ključeve."
Turning to Zedekial, she nods towards the door to indicate their continued need for secrecy. "Isto posito possit excutit manus suas, est goblin itaq experiri furtum clavem a praesidio scriptor sinu?"
Zedekiel arched a brow as Isabella started speaking goblin, then asked him exactly what was on his mind. Flashing a smile at her, he nodded once.
"Immo vero ad irascendum facilem nequiret exeant fraudantes , sed forte sinum suum et absorbuit morsu, et amet. Tunc potest regurgitate serius. Id curae vincula ostium alia necessaria."
After sharing his plan with his fellow physician, he examined the door a bit more. He would lean over to the broad one, Dexter, and quietly mutter at him.
"Assuming we can be free of these binds, what are the odds you can do something with that door?"
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Leekoo watched as the guards barged into their cell, taking off one of the long legs. "Leekoo Weekoo say good bye! Leekoo Weekoo watch time fly! Leekoo sang as they all left, glaring manically at the man who burned the letter in his arm. "Leekoo Weekoo gnash and bite! Leekoo Weekoo give you fright!" he sang to the warden and his men.
As they left, he listened to the others talk, a little surprised as the female long legs spoke in the right language - really, goblin is the best language around! - all while trying to figure out how hard to bite the chain holding him to the wall.
Then, the male long legs spoke the scaley tongue! "Leekoo Weekoo intelligunt! Leekoo Weekoo dolor goblin hominem!
Bleepos stays some time thinking, then speaks again - in Draconic!
Bleepos confusa ! Bleepos conteram manu ad salutem? Vocat carceris ? Mordet key sinum? Quid igitur ? Bleepos fractis manu et in ventre key ! Quomodo Bleepos uti key sive liberi aliorum tunc? Bleepos confusa !
Bleepos confused! Bleepos break hand to escape? Calls guard? Bites key pocket? Then what? Bleepos with broken hand and key in belly! How would Bleepos use key or free others then? Bleepos confused!
He starts shaking his left hand, ready to break it. He doesn't particularly seem too worried about this detail, but he's clearly lost in what comes next - but about to go for it anyway!
"Tene amiculi , expectanda oportunum."
He looked around some more, brows furrowing. They would only have one shot at this particular tactic... The commotion would need to be large enough to draw the guard with the key, but if the hand was broken, could it be broken again to use a second time, or would he have to break his other one....
He leaned over to one side, then another, stretching and craning. He was trying to get a feel for the distance between the prisoners.
"Could be spit...." He muttered softly to himself, gauging the distance between Bleepos and either prisoner on either side of him. "Perhaps both, one before, one after... Just needs to be able to not drop..."
All of his speech was barely above a whisper, as he did what he could to refine the plan in his mind.