You are beginning to come to, and your head is groggy. Your eyes begin to flutter open, but everything is dark.
As your senses begin to wake up you realize that your head is covered. The burlap on your face and neck is scratching your face and neck causing you to itch. You attempt to reach up and soothe the itch or rub your groggy head, you quickly realize that your hands are bound by metal and you’re unable to raise them above your abdomen.
Through the grogginess you quickly snap too, and you realize a few things. You are bound at your hands, feet, and waist. You are sitting on something hard, but it feels like it is moving. You are wedged between two solid masses that must be another person because they are also learning of their bound condition as they come too.
The realization that you are being transported washes over you, but for what and to where begins to gnaw at you in the back of your mind. There is a sound of thunder rumbling in the distance. Hopefully you’re in a covered wagon.
What'd you get yourself into, Cat?? Careless, or you wouldn't be trussed-up like this! Allie silently berates herself as she comes to and assesses her situation.
She tests the restraints, trying to see if her small wrists can slide through the manacles.
"Where are you!?!?"
Elbrynn reached across the ley line in his heart; to wake without feeling the faint flutter of feathers nearby was almost unbearable. They hatched at the same time: his father told the story that way anyway. He & Rising Star were born at almost exactly the same time, and it was his companion's mother who first noticed that Freynia no longer breathed. Some speculated that their bond was created by nature itself ...
His brother was almost beyond the boundry of the bond; even so, Elbrynn felt the screech. He would be found. He trusted this. He trusted little else.
What was afoot here?"
Crap! Kidnapped as soon as I left the village. Unbelievable.
Great, some idiot is shouting his fool head off. That's sure to attract the wrong attention.
Beswaur quietly tests the shackles on his wrists.
But he was shackled by an expert.
Well. I must wait. Opportunities will present themselves.
Listening for any clue as to what is going on.
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“what? Where am I? What is the meaning of this!” you hear someone attempting to stand but the clink of chains restrains them. Panic and anger enters the woman’s voice; “You will release me at once! Don’t you know who I am? I am the niece of magistrate” with a loud crack she stops speaking and there is a quick clink of chains as the tension is applied to them.
“nighty night.” laughs a gruff voice; “if any of ya want to join in on nap time speak up like she did.” he pauses and listens; “that’s what I thought.” with a couple steps you can hear the man sit down.
You can tell from the way the woman’s body fell against the chains that you are also chained to the wall behind you.
Allie focuses on her tactile and olfactory senses. As the wagon, or whatever vehicle they are in moves and lurches, she tries to determine the size, sex and race of the individuals to either side of her by jostling against them and smelling their natural body odors as best as possible through the hood. Realizing she may be on this ride for awhile, she takes her time, rather than trying to glean the information quickly.
It was all a bit muddled. Lenrelle remembered protecting the boy from having his hand chopped off, she remembered being pushed and trying to push back without drawing her blade. She remembered the guards being called and then before she could explain, quite the beating whe she didn't even defend herself. At least she thinks she didn't. The half-elf tries to use her hands and finds they're tied up. And, there's the burlap hood or whatever has has her face covered. And she's between bodies?
What kind of Prison is this?
She hears a woman's voice protest, then the cruel talk of the guardsman who apparently thumped her.
Well, Reason is possibly not happening.
She risks a soft whisper, intending only those closest to her to hear, "Be brave, Sarenrae is with us, even here. Wherever here is."
Aladair slowly comes back to himself—like a man swimming upward through mud.
At first there’s only weight. His head feels too heavy for his neck, his thoughts too sluggish to catch. Then the itch starts: a rough scrape across his cheek, his jaw, the side of his throat. Burlap. Close enough to smell—dust, old grain, sweat.
He tries to lift a hand to rub at it, but metal bites into his wrists. The chain rattles once, sharply, and stops. His hands don’t rise. They barely twitch.
That’s when the fog in his mind tears open. He’s bound - Hands, feet, waist.
Al’s breath hitches. He forces himself to breathe again—slow, steady, the way the sergeant used to bark at him during drills. Panic wastes strength, lad. Save it for when you need it.
He shifts his weight and feels the hard plank beneath him jolt. The whole world seems to sway. Wheels. A wagon. He’s sitting upright, wedged between two other bodies—warm, tense, and just now beginning to stir. One of them lets out a muffled groan under their own hood.
A hood.
He’s wearing one too.
Thunder rolls somewhere far off, a low growl across the sky. The air is damp, cool. Rain coming. He hopes—fervently—that the wagon is covered. He’s endured storms before, but not while trussed like a hog for market.
He tries to remember the last thing before the darkness.
He’d left the company...finally left. A clean break, a handshake from the captain, a pouch of coin heavy enough to promise a week of comfort. He’d been thinking of a bath, a warm meal, maybe a night or two with no obligations except deciding which tavern to visit next.
He remembers stepping into the street...the smell of roasting meat.
He remembers— Nothing else.
A boot thumps against the wagon’s side. A voice barks an order. Someone laughs—short, cruel, familiar in the way all hired muscle sounds familiar.
Aladair straightens as much as the chains allow. His pulse steadies. He shifts again, testing the chains, testing the space, testing the resolve of the bodies beside him. His hooded world is still black, but his senses are sharpening by the heartbeat.
"Where are you!?!?"
Elbrynn reached across the ley line in his heart; to wake without feeling the faint flutter of feathers nearby was almost unbearable. They hatched at the same time: his father told the story that way anyway. He & Rising Star were born at almost exactly the same time, and it was his companion's mother who first noticed that Freynia no longer breathed. Some speculated that their bond was created by nature itself ...
His brother was almost beyond the boundry of the bond; even so, Elbrynn felt the screech. He would be found. He trusted this. He trusted little else.
What was afoot here?"
Elbrynn took a deep breath ... very softly and slowly.
The sky didn't have these problems.Cities did.
Another breath.
Visualizing.
They couldn't "talk" yet, but he knew he could communicate the feelings he had, and he knew his brother would understand. That there were people here, more than he himself. That there were chains, or Elbrynn would already be free. That the scent of unwashed humanity was, well, it was a lot.
That would help more than anything, and thankfully, that was mostly from outside the confined area. His brother could find them from the brigand's breath more than likely ... but his fellow kidnapees were actually not odious. The female who spoke sounded like someone who would bathe frequently, if only to soothe her arrogance..
"Come. Quickly. Please brother. This is awful."
Bound. It was a feeling with which he was unfamiliar. The last thing he remembered was going to sleep in an alley.
They've made a big mistake taking me for some homeless bum.
Learning from the lessons of the other prisoner, he keeps quiet and carefully tests his restraints.
He achieved nothing but have the metal of his binds cut at his skin. Slow breaths stilled his mind and he waited.
The wagon begins to shift unexpectedly as it starts to go up an incline. Everyone leans towards the read as the weight of those closer to the front press against you. With this shift Allie finds herself sandwiched between the hard wall of the rear of the wagon on her right side and the weight of the person to her left. Beswaur is met with the total weight of a lifeless body pressing in against him from his right. The woman who spoke out was sitting directly next to him. The crack of whatever it was, was too close for comfort.
“well friends, we will be home soon.” he chuckles for a moment; “our queen will be expecting her new servants. Do be sure to bow.” with the creek of the bench, it appears this man has sat down.
There are a few moans of pain as people stir, whimpering can be heard as someone is fighting against crying out in pain… or fear.
Lenrelle hears an elderly man say just as quietly; “I’d take any of them right now if they’d get us away.
“yes, home soon.” the gruff voice says; “maybe before the rain sets in. Then we’d see what the lot of you have in you as you push us uphill through the wet mud.” he chuckles as he finds the thought of this amusing.
In the moment of being squished, you know that this is a much larger person. Firm muscle, not squishy flesh. The odor of those around you is impossible to tell from the lingering aroma of potatoes that must have been stored in this burlap before it stored your head. Even though you feel the wall against you, it seems closed off from the sound of the thunder outside.
Beswaur attempts to shoulder the body off of him.
Hope that is unconscious not dead.
Beswaur continues to listen, trying for clues that might eventually help.
Aleksandros thinks for a moment, trying to recall what he knows about the Queen.
Aleksandros whispers back in reply to the elderly man, "Is anyone here able to fight?"
"If I can get free, I can fight, though I am better with a weapon in my hand, She speaks up very softly.
Meanwhile, that talk of 'our queen' has her wondering if they are literal. She knows a little of nobility, at least human nobles, maybe it will apply here?
Duke Armas Neonen (half-elf) is the ruler of Ashlar (nation) and he leads from the capital city of Languard (largest city almost 8,000 population).
He planted his flag in this land almost 500 years ago and carved it out as an adventurer but was elected as Duke almost 100 years ago. There is has not been a queen, past or present, nor talk of a courting of one.
I will share a map, but most people live within a few hours walk of a village/city.
Allie tucks her small body in, hoping the larger person beside her will obscure the view of the guard.
She begins slowly, methodically working her way out of the restraints, trying not to make any obvious motions or noises.
Aleksandros feels the elderly man press closer against him; “I can’t. You’re the first voice I’ve heard that didn’t sound like you want to kill me. I don’t know you, or anyone else.”
“What’s this?” the man with the gruff voice says. You hear the shifting of the wagon as he stands, and you hear him making his way down the length of the wagon. Aleksandros feel the blunt end of something press against your chest forcing you against the back wall; “Telling secrets? Want to share with the rest of us?” you hear the old man grunt as he is forced back also; “Where you are going you don’t need your tongues…”
“That goes for the rest of you! Another word and I’ll make sure you’re silent for the rest of your lives. However long that is.”
“shh… shh… shh…” comes from an anxious childlike voice from across the way.
The wagon creaks as it begins to level out; “The climb is over. We will be there soon.” the man says as he makes his way back to where he was sitting.
Allie takes the distraction of what all is happening around her. She struggles against the chain and can feel that is will cut into her flesh if she attempts to get her manacles off of her. But she knows she is almost there.
When Allie feels the manacles bite her skin, she relents.
Not now, Cat. Wait for another opportunity. They're taking you somewhere. Once there, they'll have to move you, and at some point, they'll slip up. she thinks to herself.
There's no queen, some sarcasm or a self styled honorific? The Paladin's eyes narrow but she curbs her desire to challenge or warn the enemy. For now she holds. She detects evil, sure she'll find it slowly as they go, one target at a time if they come in range. She wants details if some of them are bound to supernatural fell powers. Unlikely but.. well, she's not sure of ideas.
"Then stay down and stay out of the way if things get viole-" Aleksandros was cut off and grunted as he was pushed back and hit the wall.
He decides to stay quiet for now. Instead he focuses on listening to the sounds that his captors and any horses were making, trying to guess how many might be guarding them.
Thankfully, Elbrynn knew his brother was coming. He could feel him getting closer. There was hope. The goon squad couldn't know they'd contend with that ... he just needed to be out of these chains.
From the outside of the wagon a call is given and the wagon lurches to a halt. The group is jostled but being wedged in keeps you mostly in place. The unknown might cause some of you slight panic: what’s happening, where are you, who has done this to you, what will happen next. Latches from the outside are moved and you hear the rear of the wagon open.
The gruff man from the back speaks up; “Rides over, welcome home.” he begins making his way towards the rear of the wagon. Once he arrives, he begins unlocking you from the wagon interior, but you can still feel the shackles at your hands and feet. With a shove you exit the wagon.
No matter if you’re able to keep your footing and stand or if you land hooded face first in the mud you are quickly moved 10, 15, 20 feet away from the wagon; “Come on, no need to be dragging your feet in the mud.” when you feel a quick kick to the back of your leg that drops you to your knees.
The hood on your head is quickly jerked free. It is night out and you find yourself in a muddy courtyard of some kind of fortification. It looks old, or in the least neglected. The outer walls look stout and has a walkway on part of it. Where the walkway isn’t collapsed you see armed sentries. At the opposite corners of this fortification you see two buildings: a watch tower that is three stories tall, an L shaped single story building. fortification map
In front of you stands an elven woman who is studying the group. You look around and you see a group of 11 kneeling people. From the looks of it, all from different backgrounds, walks of life, and ages. There is one hooded person laying lifeless on the ground. Blood stained hood. Beswaur looks down at himself and sees that there is blood covering his pants on the left side.
The woman speaks up; “What have you done?” eye narrowing on a man that you see for the first time. The man is large in both girth and height, walking with what looks to be a branch of a tree. “She wanted…” the man is quickly cut off and the elven woman speaks over him; “I don’t care what she wanted, I asked for twelve and that is what I expect. Dispose of it.” silently the man grabs the woman by the leg and begins dragging her through the mud towards a double gate behind you.
Looking around, you see 11 others
“You have been bought and now are mine to do with as I please. You will do a job for me. The first one will be going in there and clearing it out for me. She points to the single-story structure. The second will go and find a tomb and return to me an item.” pausing to read the response of those kneeling, she continues. “If you succeed, you will be given your freedom. Maybe a role in my kingdom.”
"You don't have a choice, what do you say?"
Sarenrae forgive me, I truly desire to do harm to this wretched man. Lenrelle thinks when she is kicked in the back of the knee.
Then Lenrelle's hood is removed and she can at last see. The fortification beyond first catches her eye but then her eyes soon look to the elf who claims to own them, and a brute of a man who has been their unpleasant keeper until now.
As for Lenrelle herself; the mix of elven and human features are quite striking on her. Her currently mussed hair is a vibrant flame like crimson, and her amber eyes seem to drink in all that is around her with a resolute gaze. Her form is that of a warrioress, athletic and toned. Of course her ears have points, not as exaggerated as a true elf's, but noteworthy.
"My name is Lenrelle Lohe, and that was not an 'it', that was a person who your brute killed out of callous malice. As for your ... request," She starts to detect evil on this would be ruler, "You seem to be giving us a coercive and false choice of actions. I can tell you right up that without proper gear, we will accomplish nothing even if we were inclined to. Ashlar has no queen, so I ask also, 'who are you?'"
The paladin seethes inwardly, but rash anger will not help any of them. Learning more and making sure these others are not sent into some dangerous path with no protection at all is far more important.
When Allie's hood is removed, the rest of the prisoners see a pretty woman in her late teens. Her eyes are a blue-green hue and her hair is strawberry blonde. She keeps her expression neutral, and her head tilted slightly down, denying her captor direct eye contact.
"Are you going to equip us, or are we expected to do this empty-handed....M'am..." her tone muted and deferential.
Al lifts his head as the hood comes away, blinking against the sudden light. He listens to the voices around him, piecing together fragments, and—yet again—wonders how he ended up in this mess.
He cuts a striking figure even in captivity. A human man in his middle years, he carries the look of someone who’s spent a lifetime under arms. His hair is short and dark, his eyes the same—steady, watchful, taking in every detail. He’s fit in the way working soldiers are fit: not sculpted, but hardened, durable. The scars scattered across his arms, shoulders, and torso speak plainly of blades, arrows, and bad luck survived. Whatever he once was—mercenary, guard, or some other fighting profession—his body tells the story before he ever opens his mouth.
Pulling off the muddy hood reveals a gruff looking face, bald head and worn simple clothes. This man has lived it rough on the streets for a while you could imagine. If not for the developed muscles that gave away that he must have been some kind of thug.
"You can't buy me, I'm not some common slave. I suggest you let me go before my gang come looking for me." He made a brave face, likely the gang would not lift a finger for him if he simply disappeared. He had gone rogue before after all.
Beswar is lean and lanky elf with a gymnast's build. While long for a human, his short brown hair is in disarray about his face after being trapped in the hood.
I can't believe it is a fellow elf behind this. I had heard the human lands were wild, but this is beyond the pale.
The Elvish Council will hear what you have done this day. You should release us and stop the excesses that led you down this path. The council's wrath will be terrible no matter who you think you are.
While waiting for a response, he looks around the area.
The half-elf woman smiles as demands are given. “You all act as if you have a choice. As if your gang or the Elvish Council” she says with a handwave “hold any power here.” smiling she walks up to Allie and grabs her face with one hand under her chin; “M’am will do…” she makes her way back to the center of the group.
Looking around you see a mix of humans, elves, a halfling and a half-orc. Everyone looks exhausted, and disheveled from being held captive.
“I will equip you with what is needed for your job, don’t get any dumb ideas elf.” Turning towards Beswaur “There are guards and sentries throughout that will kill you without hesitation. These men are loyal to the future Queen of Ashlar. Armas has held it long enough.”
As you look around you see three sentries along each wall armed with bows in hand and short swords at the hip. You also see men moving around the courtyard working on clearing the rubble and debris. Beside the single story building you notice armed guards with heavier armor than the leather armor you see most of the guards wearing flanking each side of the door.
You detect magic on the half-elf woman. You are instantly stunned. Coming too, you know that this woman is not only evil, but she follows some evil deity. You don’t see any obvious sign of which deity it is.
“Behave and doing your job will lead you to freedom, otherwise you will be disposed of. The beast are hungry. Time to rest, show them to their room. They have a busy day in the morning.” You are all quickly hooded before being forced up from the ground and shoved off and led away. Before you know it you are unhooded and you find yourselves in a holding cell. Your manacles are left on, but the chains on your legs are freed. There are six of you in this cell .
As the last guard leaves and shuts the barred door, he speaks up as he turns the key; “Get to know each other. You’ll be relying on each other for survival.”
You notice that all the guards and workers in the courtyard and armed and look as if they have seen battle. They are hard soldiers. As you are led off you know that you are led up a flight of stairs into a stone building, then quickly led down a spiral staircase into a cellar. You move past what sounds like rushing water. When your hood is removed you notice a well in the chamber.
Now that he can see again, Al looks over the dishevelled companions locked in the cell with him.
"Does anyone here know what in the hells is going on? I was on leave from my company and remember leaving a tavern...then waking in that wagon. Who is this woman, and what is Ashlar?"
He specifically looks to the elves in the group, for perhaps this is something important to their people.
"Ashlar is the land we are in, at least, I THINK We're still in it. Duke Armas Neonen rules from the great city of Languard," She wonders if Aladair is a foreigner or just disoriented. Either way it costs her nothing to offer the information.
"As for who the woman is, perhaps she's a distant relation to the Duke who thinks she has a right to the crown? I can tell you this... she serves a foul god or goddess. Her evil is almost tangible." Lenrelle makes a face at that.
"Oh, and I'm Lenrelle. I am a paladin of Sarenrae. I am not sure why I'm here either unless it involved saving a boy from having his hand chopped off." A scowl, "I would say a pleasure to meet you all but there's little pleasure in this entire dark venture."
Nameis Beshwar. Looks like we will have to play along with her plans.
...
At least for now.
If her soldiers are not up to the task, I don't know why she thinks a random grab of captives will be. I suspect we are expected to fail.
We shall have to disappoint that expectation.
With his legs freed, he knew he had a chance to fight, unlike the others, but something told him it would not get him far on his own. He would have to wait for another opportunity.
"I was knocked out and abducted from an alley. I don't care about any crown or who gets to wear it. I'll stay out of whatever war this power hungry elf is concocting..."
He listened to the elf's deductions, agreeing with Nameis. "She doesn't want to risk her soldiers when she can use us. Maybe we succeed, maybe we don't and she abducts others."
"Nevertheless I intend to survive and get out of here alive. Hopefully all of you can fight to some degree. But at the least, don't get in my way."
One of the sentries comes down and sets down a bucket of some kind of stew within. Ignoring the group completely he moved to the well and draws a bucket of water. Neither of the buckets look as if they could fit through the bars. From the stairs you hear someone shouting; “Get to moving dwarf! I don’t have time for your laziness.” with a shove the dwarf stumbles down the last few stairs.
As the dwarf stands you see a wide set muscular dwarf with a thick black beard, black eyes, and thick bushy eyebrows. He presses on silently towards the cell. As he gets closer his mouth and nose look bloodied. He is putting on a front that he isn’t injured, but you can tell that he is having troubles walking upright.
The impatient man moves around the dwarf with a staff in hand; “Back up! It’s getting cozy in there.” he begins jabbing his staff through the bars attempting to hit anyone who is close to the door. “Dwarf, grab those buckets and take them in with you. Dinner is served!” as the dwarf enters the cell the man jabs the dwarf on the leg with his staff; “Hurry up!” This causes the dwarf to stumble and take a knee wincing in pain, spilling some of the stew on the floor.
With a clang, the wall of metal bars rattle with age. The two men make their way to the stairs; “Enjoy dinner. That torch is the last one you’ll get, when its out… bed time.” Making their way up the stairs they begin talking.
As their voices fade, the dwarf crumples on the floor. None of you have seen this dwarf before.
"Call me Cat," she says to the rest of the group. "My specialty is staying alive."
Allie moves over to the dwarf and looks to see if he still conscious.
She squats low, resting her weight on the balls of her toes, as if ready to jump.
"You still alive?"
"Sweet Sarenrae," The Paladin moves to the dwarf and checks him over to tend to the Dwarf as best she can without bandages or gear
Aleksandros frowns at the stew buckets, not paying much attention to the dwarf he could do nothing for. "Just a bucket? Not even the dignity of a bowl? Ah well, I've been given worse." He cupped his hand in the bucket and slurped down some of the stew. It was cold, unexpectedly.
"I wouldn't recommend the stew..." He commented.
Beswaur checks the dwarf for life.
Sorry I have nothing with which to help you. Best try to eat and drink a bit.
...
With a grimace, Beswaur forces himself to consume some of the stew and water.
Must keep up my strength or I have zero chance of surviving.
Lenrelle and Beswaur look over the dwarf on the ground. As they rolls him over his eyes flutter open. He is clearly exhausted. Outside of bruising on his face and arms, and a little blood from his mouth, it appears that he has no major wounds.
“I believe so, gods know they’d try to see it differently.” The dwarf speaks softly due to exhauston; “Name’s Reithic. I try to set out as a trader and I’m going down the Old Road after leaving Ashford and I’m surrounded. Next thing I know I’m waking up in a wagon and shoved in some mud.”
Attempting to lean upright, Reithic spits as he continues; “Firean, is a bitter queen. I don’t know from what but hate and revenge flows through her.” He leans against the wall while sitting on the floor. He continues to sit in silence, but looks to be responsive.
As the two healers approaches Allie springs to her feet and steps back out of their way.
She then makes her way over to the bucket of cold, greasy stew and dunks her small hands in it up to her wrists.
She then crouches into a seated position on the floor, back to the wall. She places her feet against the chain connecting the manacles on her wrist, and slowly, methodically pushes out, extending her legs as she wriggles her wrists back and forth in the restraints.
"Indeed? Firean is she?" Cautious, she checks for evil on this dwarf. His wounds are minor, could he be a plant?
"And then what?" Aleksandros says, observing Cat slipping out of the shackles. "Do you have a plan to get out of here? Perhaps I can help?"
He seems impressed, "If only my wrists were as thin as yours."
He helps pull and maneuver the shackles the rest of the way off Cat's wrists.
Allie begins struggling with her manacles, attempting to get them off. This draws the attention of Aleksandros, and he begins to help the lithely girl. Maybe to their surprise, she slips out of the manacles as the cuff and chain hit the floor. Aleksandros question And then what? lingers between the two.
You detect no evil from the dwarf, and you get the sense that he is genuine and telling the truth. His conversation with the group is a struggle against his exhaustion.
“The one in charge, half-elf like yourself, is Firean. I don’t know what she is hunting or why, but she is willing to throw bodies at it until she does.” His eyes go to the water bucker; “Will you give me some water?”
"My plan is to get out of here. I won't manage that by just sitting around."
Allie moves over to the door and begins carefully and methodically examining it, the locking mechanism, the hinges, and any pass-throughs or windows in it, if applicable.
AL had, for the most part, simply moved to a corner in the room and is watching everyone. He stays quiet and observes what the others are doing.
Lenrelle reaches for the bucket of water, and if she must, uses her hand like a cup to gather some for the dwarf, "I can't promise how clean it is." And she offers some.
She notes the progress others have made but doesn't want to make a stir or noise to draw too much attention to it.
"You're plan to get out of here, is to get out of here? Sounds like my kind of plan!" Aleksandros says with a smirk but waits to see if she is able to get the door.
He leads against a wall, making to cross his arms before realising the shackles inhibit him. He glances over at the others in the room.
No secret magicians here? A spell or two might prove useful."
"I noticed you're built like a pit fighter or professional leg-breaker," Allie replies, not looking away from her examination of the door. "Is that what you did before this, or do you just enjoy lifting heavy things?" After a short pause she adds, "Thanks for helping with the manacles. Even with help, I doubt you can get yours off the way I did, unless your one of those folks who can pop your thumbs out of joint and back in. You seem pretty strong, though. You should try finding a leverage point and see if you can break the chain."