Way of the Wicked (Pathfinder IC)

[Lost Demiurge]

Brandescar prison.

Last stop of the hopeless. The condemned. The scum beneath fair Talingarde's boots.

Society has judged you. The high, mighty, and righteous have judged you to have no redeeming qualities. Mitra's grace has been withdrawn from you, and all too soon you will be sent on to your death... Fast or slow, it won't be pretty.

No one has EVER escaped from Brandescar. You were brought here blindfolded. You've only seen a portion of it.

The "Welcome" room, where you were stripped of everything the guards had left you, and VERY thoroughly searched. They gave you rags, simple, stinking, recycled rags to wear.

The Torture room, where you were showed the implements that would be used on you if you gave the guards too much trouble. They can and WOULD make the rest of your short life very, very painful. While in this room, they branded you. Used hot irons to scar a runic "F" into your arm. "F" for Forsaken... You are beyond Mitra's grace. There is no saving you now, and you are to feel horrible guilt for your coming damnation. So say the GOOD people of Talingarde.

Pathetic mewling sheeple...

And finally, the cell you dwell in now. Large, 20 by 20. It's a communal cell. You are restrained to the wall with short chains, allowing you perhaps a few feet of mobility. There's a communal bucket for waste, and a distinct lack of privacy. They feed you twice a day. Kicking up a fuss or trying to attack the guard when they enter earns a beatdown, as the guard calls for help and four others pile in. Then everyone goes without food or water for a day.

It's hard to tell day or night in here, but your cellmates seem to be mostly awake, now.

And there are sounds of booted feet approaching your cell. Several booted feet, not hurrying like there's trouble, and too many for the usual feeding or bucket change. Now what's going on here?

[Sjurd]

You a see hard, predatory half-orc with several days' worth of stubble and black hair cropped short to his skull. His eyes are the color of steel, with small flecks of silver near the iris. His skin is taut and tight against his skin, with years of conflict evident in his craggy features. He is dressed in a simple spun tunic, like most of the other prisoners. He is tall and broad, with a thick frame and straight posture.

He has kept quiet during his stay thus far at Branderscar. He seems accustomed to the routine and protocol of incarceration. "Yes, sir. No, sir." and all that. But in unguarded moments, you can see his eyes wandering about the cell and watching the patterns and habits of the guards. He has even tried flexing his arms against the bars when he thought no one was looking to test their construction.

When the footsteps come down the hallway, Silas has been doing push-ups and wall-sits in the corner of the cell. He stops his calisthenics and watches carefully. "Something different is happening. Different is likely not good."

ooc1: DM Lost Demiurge - How much do the guards and prison administrators know about our special abilities? For example, would they know that I can rage? It doesn't exactly have visual cues unless I use it.

ooc2: I added my character sheet link to my signature for easy reference.

[Finkmilkana]

On one side of the cell sits a somewhat tall and muscular man. While not handsome or even interesting looking in any way you guess he could be quite imposing in another place, at another time. But not now.
While still arguing with the guards when they first brought him in, he only shortly eyed his fellow convicts before falling into a sulking silence and quickly loosing any posture he had left.

[Morbis Meh]

Jodiah lounges complacently with a dreamy expression across her face, she is almost tranquil but if anyone truly knew what was going on they would be nothing but horrified. Currently, Jodiah was listening to the screaming souls of the children she had murdered My children now! she thought wickedly. In truth, the inmates and guards had been at a loss with what to do with her, her behaviour towards her cellmates and the guards was that of a mother: worrisome, somewhat caring and slightly patronizing. For the most part she scared the living bejesus out of her cellmates for she couldn't be intimidated by them she would simply sit there with her odd smile and chide them for being naughty. If anyone actually attempted to hurt her they would pay for it, not in the physical sense but in the psychological sense. It was true that they took her pouch from her but she had innate talents that she used rather effectively in conjunction with her silvered tongue. She hoped that she could slowly affect a few of the guards... just long enough so she could steal their key ring.

At the sound of the approaching boots, Jodiah snapped out of her dazed state and stood up curiously, it certainly wasn't feeding time and there was little going on at the moment. Maybe it's an execution squad? she frowned at the thought I have to survive for the sake of my children and for the mighty Yog-Sothoth! Moving as far as the chains would allow her she looks out into the ill lit hallway.

[Lost Demiurge]

SJURD
OOC: The restraints make it difficult to do calisthenics, but you can definitely get some exercise in.

The guards know the special abilities you've shown them. And they know if you're magical or not... You were arrested with whatever you normally would have had on you.

It's hard to say whether or not they know you can rage. You had a pretty big name for yourself out on the street.

These chains are pretty thick, regardless. MIGHT be breakable, given time and work...

[Angstrom]

Bridget has retreated as far back in the cell as her chains will allow. Removing herself from the others, she sits with her arms wrapped around her knees, contemplating the coming execution. Though her eyes are closed, the scabbing red wound on her arm serves as a constant reminder of her location. Branderscar, most secure prison in all of Talingarde. Never have things been this hopeless.

The sounds of tramping boots barely illicit a response from her. If it was finally time, she would welcome it.

[Frivolous]

Sirin Starshine


Sirin is a young and pretty half-elf with straight and silky black hair in a pageboy cut and brilliant and moist blue eyes. Her eyes are red, and they glisten as if she has been weeping, although none of the other prisoners have actually seen her shed tears yet.

She tries to keep herself clean in this filthy cell, but it is not working very well. The best she can do is maintain a crouch; that way only the soles of her feet get dirty. But even a trained gymnast and cheerleader such as her can maintain the position for only so long, and the strain is beginning to wear on her.

Sirin eyes the males locked up in this cell with her warily, especially the big brutish half-orc, who looks strong enough to maybe break his chains.

She eyes the other females even more warily. She gets a pinched, annoyed expression on her smooth white face whenever she looks at the human woman's red hair and perfect form. Not so much the gnome woman, though.

Query and rolls for the DM

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Would Sirin be able to recognize anyone here? She has 1 rank in the skill Knowledge (Local).

If you wish for me to roll, here is 1 roll. Please just let me know if you want me to roll more than once.

Knowledge (Local): (1d20+5)[12]

[Lost Demiurge]

SIRIN

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It's hard to say. Everyone in here is wearing rags so it's harder to recognize them, and not many people have been talking, yet. (AKA, a 12 won't quite do it.

As you wait, Sergeant Blackerly comes into view of your cell, along with a four-guard escort. He looks distracted.

"Right. You lot. Don't get excited. YOU! Sirin Starshine, on your feet and face to the wall. Hands behind yer back."

He waits outside while the guards enter the cell. His usual smirk is there, but his eyes are distant. This is the guy who insisted on being the one to personally brand you, while his goons held you down. He laughed as the brand sizzled your flesh, and watched your face to see if you'd cry. He's passed by occasionally to spit in your food before it goes into your cell, and mock you in a hundred little ways. Blackerly is a bully, and he LOVES his job.

And he's acting very oddly. Isn't even coming in to put the boot in himself.

SENSE MOTIVE DC 25

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The sergeant is being affected by something that is clouding his thoughts. Poison or magic would be the most likely candidates.

The four guards enter the cell. Two of them occupy the center, truncheons out, and glare at the rest of you. Two of them grab Sirin's restraints, unlock them from the wall, and seize hold of her manacled hands as they march her out.

"Oh stop fighting." Says Blackerly, not even looking to see if you're fighting or not. "Your lucky day. Your half-sister wants to see you. Now MOVE!"

And Sirin is marched down the corridor, as the guards back out of the cell and lock it up again. Blackerly follows after.

SIRIN (Though for entertainment purposes, this is open for players to watch.)
You are escorted down a flight of stairs to a plain office. Waiting inside is a tall, stunning woman with pale, pale skin and hair so platinum blonde it could be mistaken for fine jewelery. Her face is slightly hidden behind a veil, and her clothes look to be as expensive and tasteful as the finest of courtiers. "Ah, sister! It is SO GOOD to see you again!" She unfolds herself from the chair and gives you a fierce hug.

"Please, do leave us noble sergeant." She smiles at Blackerly. "We've got ever so much catching up to do. No harm will come of this." Blackerly nods back, distracted. "Sure, no harm will come of this." Beckoning to the other guards, he leaves the office. You hear the key click in the lock as he goes.

Once he's gone, the woman's smile goes from friendly to sneering, as she walks around the desk and takes a seat in it. "Well, SISTER, I am of course no relation to you. This was set up as a pretense. You see, there is a quite powerful man who would like to meet you, you and your cellmates. Unfortunately, the accomodations are a bit... Hm... Meager for his liking." She picks up a small portrait of some guard official's wife and children, sniffs at it disdainfully, and scars it with one sharp nail before replacing it on the desk.

"So you'll have to come to him. In a sense, this is a test. But here... Here is the cheatsheet."

She removes her veil, and offers it to you.

"My name is Tiadora." She continues to sneer. "I DO so hope we shall be the best of friends."

[Finkmilkana]

(1d20+7)[11]

Marthras shortly looks up as Blackerly enters the cells to take the women but quickly looses interest.

[Morbis Meh]

Making use of her talents and the odd mood the sergeant was in, Jodiah silently speaks to herself and wiggles her fingers ever so slightly.

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Using my gnome SLA to cast mage hand in hopes that when they all turn around and leave the cell Jodiah can use mage hand to steal the sergeants key ring so she can free herself... Let me know if this is possible LD

[Frivolous]

Sirin Starshine


Sirin obeys Sergeant Blackerly's orders hastily. She grimaces from muscle ache and strain as she gets to her feet and puts her back to the wall.

She blinks in surprise and confusion. "Half-sister? Which one?"

She sounds amazed that any of her relatives would visit her.

As she is forced from the cell, she looks to see if any of the guards handling her, or anyone in arm's reach, has a set of keys on him.

Rolls

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Sense Motive: (1d20+2)[18]

Sense Motive is hopeless, of course. Sirin's bonus is only +2.

Take 10 on Perception to see if anyone has anything she might be able to use Sleight of Hand to snatch for her own use.

Sirin's bonus for Perception is +11.

She yelps in dismay as the platinum blonde woman hugs her, "Oh, no, sister, I'm so dirty! Your nice clothes!"

But once the guards and Blackerley leave the room, Sirin tilts her head to listen for the sound of anyone listening or observing even as she pays attention to the woman before her.

Another roll

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Take 10 again on Perception. Sirin will try not to be sneaked up on by any jailors.

Sirin impassively takes note of how Tiadora scratches the guard's family portrait, but a very faint smile touches her pale lips. She raises her left eyebrow at Tiadora's use of the word 'cheatsheet'.

Saying nothing, she nods and gives Tiadora a larger, but still quite demure and ladylike smile, then takes the veil, handling it gingerly with but the tips of her fingers. She examines it to determine if there are any lock picks in it, and she also puts it on to see if anything happens.

Another roll

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Take 10 again on Perception to look for anything odd or out of place with the veil.

[Lost Demiurge]

Jodiah manages to use her abilities without the guards noticing anything off. However, the keyring seems to be tied to his belt.

Still, no worries. He hasn't noticed the tugging at his belt. Jodiah starts working at the knot as best as she can... Hard to see it from her angle... And then the sergeant moves away with the rest of the guards, escorting Sirin down the hall and out of sight.

Well, that didn't work.

[Morbis Meh]

Jodiah sighs deeply "Oh deary me, it didn't work, well better look on the bright side, I didn't get caught!" She turns and looks at the scowling half orc "Now listen child, turn that frown upside down, didn't your mother ever tell you that if you make a face like that it may just stay that way?"

[Lost Demiurge]

SIRIN
As you walk, you notice that the sergeant's key ring is loose on his belt. Someone's half-untied the strings holding it on there and he doesn't seem to notice. It'd be a risk, but you could try to grab it-

But as you are taking your time to study things, you're locked into the office before you get a chance to burgle him. Perhaps another opportunity will avail itself.

Sizing up the veil carefully, and looking through it, you notice that there are faint, almost invisible fabric patches sewn into it. There are roughly 15-20 patches, all of different items. A set of lockpicks, a pouch with sparkles coming from it, a dagger, a window... And many more.

"Free advice... Don't pull at the patches until you're back in your cell." Tiadora advises. "If you want any more instructions, one of your cellmates should have the required expertise for all those fiddly little details. Between the lot of you it should be easy. Do hide that somewhere on yourself for now, you should be THAT skilled at least."

She yawns and studies the nails of one hand.

"If you can get free without making a mess of it, go south of the city, roughly three miles into the moors. You will find a mansion there, with a red light in one upper story window. My master awaits you there... DO try to avoid tardiness, he hates that."

"Now, do you have any final questions for me, or are we done, so that I may leave this grimy hovel?"

[Frivolous]

Sirin Starshine


She nods and speaks softly, glancing every few moments at the door. "First, thank you for offering me, us, this chance for freedom. The fate they have planned for me alone is hideous."

As she speaks, Sirin folds the veil into a tiny packet and expertly conceals it a hard-to-reach spot in her rags.

She still has enough modesty to turn around so Tiadora cannot entirely see the undignified way she has to do it.

Sleight of Hand

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Take 10 on Sleight of Hand to conceal it in her rags.

Sirin chokes back a wretched sob, then turns around to face Tiadora again and continues, "I do have questions, though, if it pleases you."

"You are sure you want all six of us to escape? I mean, if one or more of us is a spy, we might get free only to lead them to your mansion. Which would be bad."

"How much of a mess will you tolerate us making?"

"What time of day is it? And if it is daytime, how close are we to sunset?"

"What can you tell me about the prison's guards and defenses? Or is that part of the test?"

She flashes a sweet smile as she asks the last question. Sirin has no problem at all cheating, so long as she doesn't get caught.

OOC Notes

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Sirin means everything she says, but she shows more emotion because she believes sobbing is expected of a young lady in dire circumstances like prison.

Appearances count for a lot with Sirin. Plus she took drama classes in school.

[Lost Demiurge]

Tiadora's sneer spreads. "Very well then, in order..."

"Yes, the five you share your cell with have been examined as well. Their qualifications are equivalent to yours, though in different areas. They are not spies. I... "Vetted" their backgrounds myself. Showing up without them, while signifying an impressive effort, would make my Master displeased."

"Mind you if one or two of them... Or YOU, for that matter are weaker than I thought and fail to seize their freedom even with the generous help I have provided, ah well. Life goes on."

"I do not care what sort of mess you make. Of course, starting a widespread alert would not be conducive to your escape. Remember, you still must leave the city after you escape the prison. The wall is not THAT far, but pursuit would be unfortunate."

"It is dusk outside."

"The prison's ins and outs are left to you and your new colleagues to discover and adapt to."

"Anything else... Dear, false sister?"

[Frivolous]

Sirin Starshine


"Nothing else. If your gift does what you imply it can, I have everything I need to get us all free."

Sirin curtsies as if she were attending a ball and wearing a nice gown instead of standing in prison and wearing rags.

"Thank you again, Lady Tiadora."

Sirin straightens and waits for Tiadora to call for the guards so she may depart.

As soon as Tiadora calls, Sirin plucks at one of her own nose hairs to make her eyes water and prepares to enter into a storm of frenzied weeping when the guards come to drag her back to her stinking cell.

[Griffith!]

Variel Amphora

The tiefling sulks in the deepest shadows he can find, watching the goings-on with the jittery intensity of a rat. His eyes - bloodshot and ringed with dark bruises - are wide and staring, his tail twitching side-to side in the gloom. He wears the same rags as the others, the same restraints.

When the guards came in, he didn't react beyond tilting his head to the side. He watched them take the girl, and then quietly went back to amusing himself with trying to wriggle out of the irons.

Escape Artist

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Take ten on Escape Artist - not because it's likely to work, but because it's a way to pass the time.

[Lost Demiurge]

SIRIN

Tiadora nods, face rearranging into a solemn, sorrowful expression of woe. Tears glisten in her eyes, and her hands shake with suppressed grief.

SENSE MOTIVE DC 33

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Oh, she is GOOD at this.

She knocks on the door. "Sergeant? I-I think we're ready."
After a few minutes, the door opens. Sergeant Blackerly absently snaps the key back onto his ring, and the guards file in behind him.

One of them starts to pat Sirin down, and Tiadora shakes her head. "There's, there's no need for that. My sister dies tomorrow. I have accepted this. Please just- Just take her away. I'll find my own way out."

The guards look to the sergeant, who nods. "No need for that. Let her find her own way out."

The guards start walking you back to your cell, Blackerly slightly ahead of them. You COULD try to snag his keys right now. Your hands are behind your back, but you COULD concievably try to brush past him when you enter the door of the cell.

Mind you, if you're caught, beatings will follow VERY shortly after. Then the veil will be a moot point until you regain consciousness.

Might be a little too late by then...

[Sjurd]

"Now listen child, turn that frown upside down, didn't your mother ever tell you that if you make a face like that it may just stay that way?"

For a moment Silas gave her a sidelong glance, then snorted in amusement. "My mother sold me into slavery, little one." He craned his neck, waiting for the waifish brunette to return down the hall. "What - misunderstanding - brought you to this place, gnome?"

[Frivolous]

Sirin Starshine


Sirin bawls as Tiadora makes ready to depart. But then she has a start of very real and unpleasant surprise.

"Wait. Tomorrow? I'm getting the Iron Maiden -tomorrow-?"

She sobs and cries a lot and generally makes a very loud spectacle of herself, but she doesn't bother to struggle or go for the guards' keys. Not when she feels pretty confident about her ability to disable locks.

She passively allows them to lock her up in a chain again and waits for the guards to depart.

As she hears the booted feet move away, she says, "I'm going to die tomorrow. My sister told me that's when they execute me. I didn't know."

"Would you all tell me about yourselves, to pass the time?"

"I'm Sirin. I am wrongfully accused of causing people to kill other people and themselves. Which is balderdash, because I wasn't even in the room most of those times. I don't know why I'm being blamed at all."

"Also, can any of you see well in the dark? I want to know if I still look pretty for tomorrow."

But there is a subtly excited tension in her tone of voice that does not at all match her previous sobs.

[Morbis Meh]

Jodiah tilts her head at that spectacle put on by the helf elf and looks back to the half orc "That is enough of that talk, sonny boy, you need to learn some proper manners. I am more than 5 times your age child and you should show a little respect for your elders. Now as far as why I am here there was no misunderstanding whatsoever all I did was free dozens of children from the pain of the world and keep them close to me in a loving embrace." Turning her attention to the half elf she grunts with disapproval "Now listen her missy, there are much more important matters here to worry about than your looks. Don't be acting like a floozy or you will never find yourself a proper husband or be a decent mother. as for vision, I can see well enough in dim light and from what I can see you are utterly filthy." Her tone softens But that is something i can fix readily now hold still... There that's better, now be a good girl and thank Nana Jodi!"

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Using my SLA for prestidigitation to clean up Sirin

[Sjurd]

"My name's Varo. Silas Varo." The large half-orc licked his teeth. "I am here at the courtesy of the Honorable Tobin Wrenbrook, Senior Magistrate of Customs and Exchange in the capital." He sat heavily on the floor, crossing his feet and wrapping his arms around his knees. "There were several baseless accusations made against a gentleman's club, of which I am a member. I paid a call to the judge and informed him that less than virtuous persons might make similar accusations against him, should he persist."

He chuckles and shrugs his shoulders. "I tried to press him to fold a case. He blinked, and now I'm here. Along with a few other indiscretions, that was apparently enough to sentence me to a lifetime in the salt mines."

Edit: "And yes, I can see in the dark."

[Griffith!]

Variel Amphora

"I am called Variel." he pauses in pointlessly twisting his wrists in the chains, "And I am here because I kill people."

He sighs, shaking his head, "Our nation cares little for the tender ministrations of the just. I delivered unto those poor people the help they craved, the love they lacked, and how am I thanked? Irons kept in poor company."

He continues on, nonplussed, "I can see better than most, I think. You looked far prettier in the dirt."

He turns his attention away, trying to gnaw on the manacles.

[Angstrom]

Roused from her inflective reverie by Sirin's noisy return, Bridget keeps her back turned to her cellmates. Listening to the conversation, she can't help but resent the guards for placing her with this lot. These people were psychopaths. She certainly didn't belong here.

"For what its worth, I can't see a thing in this darkness. You should call me Sa-. Ah, what does it matter? My name is Bridget."

So accustomed to using alises, Bridget began to lie by instinct, but remembering her surroundings she reconsidered. It felt weird to use her real name; sounded wrong.

[Finkmilkana]

Marthras looks up again, seemingly not that interested in long conversation right now: I'm Marthras and I was forsaken by those I trusted most. And no, I can't see in the dark.
With that he returns to his silent contemplation.

[Frivolous]

Sirin Starshine


Sirin's eyes widen, and she sounds surprised. "Oh. I'm clean! Thank you, um, Nana Jodi!"

"So you can clean from a distance, hmm? Can the rest of you do magic, too? If so, what can you do?"

She turns around and once again does something undignified as she retrieves the folded veil. She turns around, unfolds the veil, and begins to examine it, trying to find and identify all the subtly hidden patches.

In a casual voice, she mentions, "Let's all keep calm and talk as if nothing important is happening, all right?"

"The guards pass by ever so often, and we will all benefit if they have no reason to come in and interrupt what I'm doing."

[Angstrom]

"What is that?" Bridget asks angrily, "If the guards see that we'll all suffer. What could you possibly do that could benefit any of us?"

[Lost Demiurge]

The veil is a light, gauzy bit of fabric with raised patches on it. The patches are difficult to notice by sight alone unless your face is right next to it, but are easily apparent to the touch. It has the following patches on it, in tiny and fine detail.

(The numbers reference the footnotes.)

A pouch with sparkles coming from it.
A dagger
A set of lockpicks
A window
A lantern
A tinderbox
A sling
A strange assortment of spheres that twist on wires (1)
A holy symbol of Mitra
A twisted bat-looking thing (2)
A coil of rope
A potion bottle
A potion bottle with a skull and crossbones on it
A rat with sharp spines and an evil look to it (3)
A stack of coins
EDIT: And a bag full of something round, and small.

1. Nana Jodi

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That is a holy symbol of Yog-Sothoth

2. Variel

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That is the holy symbol of Zura.

3. KNOWLEDGE - THE PLANES DC 12

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That rat looks like it has fiendish characteristics

[Griffith!]

Variel Amphora

Variel watches with interest, a queer smile on his lips, "She could fashion a gag. That might help some of us. A clue? No."

He leans forward, eyes glittering in the light, "Is it a toy? Did you bring enough to share? Do I get to play with it?"