DM Danger's Way of the Wicked: Part I

[DM_Danger]

Way of the Wicked
Part I: Escape from Brandescar
Link to OOC

[DM_Danger]

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 togethger 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. For each of you, justice will be
fairly meted. And who can blame fair Talingarde after
what each of you has done?

[DM_Danger]

A beast in the wild would at least be afforded a quick and merciful death, but the sweet children of Mitra are not that kind. They treat you as cattle, to be herded, kicked, caged, and jeered. Cattle to be branded. The brand you each with the Futhark, the rune for "F". For them, the F is for Forsaken, one who should be shunned. For YOU, the meaning is worse, the F is for Failure. You have Failed, caught, caged, "tried", and now, as cattle do, you will be slaughtered to feed the masses their pound of flesh and self-righteousness. You would be disgusted if it wasn't you. But it is you, and here you hang on a wall with your fellow wretches, with only the scorn of the guards to keep you company. If only there was a way to turn that F into Freedom.

Spoiler: OOC:

Show

You are all in one large cell, chained to the wall with cold iron shackles, which limit hamper your mystical abilities as much as your physical ones. Stinking burlap sacks cover your heads, as much to shield the guards from the wretchedness of your miserable faces as any evil eye or hex you might attempt. You are not alone. The occasional grunt, sob, or scream confirmed as much, but the sacks are porous enough that you can tell that there are 7 others among you. One poor wretch, a snakeman of some sort, seems quite dead, if the way he does not stir while a rat gleefully gnaws on his toes is any indication, but the others, seem mostly alive, more or less. You might risk a quiet word or two, the guards seem quite content to let you rot, they only came to beat the snakeman when his mewling interrupted their napping. Take this opportunity to describe yourself, and whether or not you wish to make to make any conversation.

[TheThrongler]

Osmond Halbrin Tiefling Sphereshaper/Scholar AC: 13 (13 T/10 FF) DR: 2/Blugeoning HP: 8/8 Perception: +5 Initiative: +3 Conditions: restrained

Osmond found new reason to regret to idleness of his recent years as his weight pulled him down, pressing the sharp, filthy edges of the manacles deeper into the soft flesh of his wrists and hands. Occasionally shuffling to try to find a less painful position for his wrists, Osmond does not speak. Instead, he focuses his mind on finding a solution: he may not be able to see clearly, but he can still plan. Laying his head back against the moist, grimy wall behind him, the Forsaken takes a long, steadying breath to calm himself - No, that was certainly not fear he had been feeling, it was surely just indignation - and begins his next plot.

Spoiler: What Osmond is trying to determine

Show

Osmond can't see, but he can hear. He is going to try to determine what he can about the guards: are there always guards right outside that he can hear talking, pacing, clearing their throats? Do they do regular patrols instead? How frequently?
Osmond will see what he can do about shifting the hood, not actively trying to remove it right now, but wanting to find out if he could, when the time comes. Maybe he can find a place in the burlap that is a bit more worn and allow him a bit of vision.
Osmond will try to determine how securely he is bolted in, and how his prospects look for slipping free of the manacles, without actually trying to escape from them right now.
Overall, he just needs facts, he needs to find out what he has to work with and what he has to work against. You can ignore these rolls if you want (and Osmond would take 10 if he can, but this probably counts as a distracting/stressful situation that requires rolling) but they seemed like the kind you might ask for, given what Osmond is trying to find out (and to repeat, Osmond is not trying to escape right now, he's just trying to analyze the situation to find an opportunity).
Perception - (1d20+5)[22]
Escape Artist - (1d20+7)[12]

[Athaleon]

Hechter still sat up with as much defiant dignity as a man in his position could muster. He occasionally strained at his bonds, but this too was calm and methodical—done in the same manner as a man long-seated would stand up and stretch. Despite his considerable strength, he didn't think much of his ability to break out of his chains with muscle alone. Instead, he too was content to listen, and bide his time.

Spoiler

Show

Perception: (1d20+1)[5] listening out for the guards, mainly.

How closely together are we chained, and in what position? It may be possible to get the hood off the next prisoner in line, if they can lean their head close enough to Hechter's hands for example. Of course, this should be done only once we're reasonably sure the guards are sleeping or otherwise occupied.

[DM_Danger]

Spoiler: What Osmond is trying to determine

Show

Osmond can't see, but he can hear. He is going to try to determine what he can about the guards: are there always guards right outside that he can hear talking, pacing, clearing their throats? Do they do regular patrols instead? How frequently?
Osmond will see what he can do about shifting the hood, not actively trying to remove it right now, but wanting to find out if he could, when the time comes. Maybe he can find a place in the burlap that is a bit more worn and allow him a bit of vision.
Osmond will try to determine how securely he is bolted in, and how his prospects look for slipping free of the manacles, without actually trying to escape from them right now.
Overall, he just needs facts, he needs to find out what he has to work with and what he has to work against. You can ignore these rolls if you want (and Osmond would take 10 if he can, but this probably counts as a distracting/stressful situation that requires rolling) but they seemed like the kind you might ask for, given what Osmond is trying to find out (and to repeat, Osmond is not trying to escape right now, he's just trying to analyze the situation to find an opportunity).
[roll0]
[roll1]

Spoiler: What you know

Show

You are on the second floor of a small castle by a lake or sea. The guards are numerous, but typically only number two at the guard station down the hall some 80ft away. You must pass through the guard room to get the the stairs, you know this because you were dragged up the stairs and through the guard room before being chained up. Off to the side of the guard room is another room where you were branded and questioned. Typically, the Guards change shifts at dawn and dusk, do a walk around, Perform a feeding, cleaning and head count and maybe give you a kick, and go about their business. The feeding is usually a molding piece of bread and a tankard of water, and the cleaning is a bucket of water thrown at you. The day shift seems to preoccupy themselves with dice, and the night crew with naps. The sack has enough holes in it to peek about, and is not tightly on, it has fallen off before, and the guards who check on you have put it back on, threatening to gag you or worse if you don't keep it on, though they haven't made good on the threat yet. Most of this floor is open, with bars separating it into cells, most of which are empty now, as the last batch was "processed" (executed), last week. There is a room at the end of the hall to the right of you, that the guards refer to as "The Max". There is something in there, something large, loud, and powerful, that caused quite a ruckus when the guards put it in there, presumably resulting in injuries, as two guards had to be dragged off after it was detained. Whatever it is, they beat it fiercely, and it seems by the groans and sighs coming from the Max, to be nursing it's wounds. The guards have avoided the Max since, though when the Snakeman snickered at the wounded guards, they beat him soundly to death and left him chained up to stink up the cell. The Guard Captain is a man called "Blackerly", conversations overhead from the guards seem to suggest he may be corrupt, and he is definitely cruel. He oversaw your branding, and seemed to take delight in it. He is the one that killed the snakeman, and he is the one that told the other guards to leave it up.

Perception: (1d20+1)[5] listening out for the guards, mainly.

Spoiler: Questions

Show

How closely together are we chained, and in what position? It may be possible to get the hood off the next prisoner in line, if they can lean their head close enough to Hechter's hands for example. Of course, this should be done only once we're reasonably sure the guards are sleeping or otherwise occupied.

Spoiler: Answers

Show

You are maybe 3 or 4 feet apart, hands overhead. You really can't get a hand on another prisoner, though with your reach, you are close. You could perhaps hang by your chains and get your legs around someone's neck, though it sounds like more acrobatics that it is worth. The hoods are loose, and fall off quite a bit on their own. Listening reveals the day guards like to dice, and the night guards like to nap.

[Xav]

Morgan Reinhart Half-Elf Batal Synthesist AC: 11 (11 T/10 FF) DR: - HP: 11/11 Perception: +7 Initiative: -1 Conditions: restrained

Several days, - or weeks, maybe? - ago the last rebels were crushed in the process of trying to recapture the leader of the uprising, Sir Connor. But, besides witnessing his father's death, Morgan experienced another event, - the entity, which was Lord Reinhart was bound with, moved to his heir. And the process was... uneasy. In fact, right before capture Morgan went into a semi-mad state, hardly aware of what was happening around him, as internal changes occupied all his attention. The moments of his capture and transportation were mixed with phantasmagorical visions of distant spaces and sensations of transformation, and Reinhart Jr. could not even remember the moment of sentencing. Anti-magic shackles, obviously, also did not contribute to the normal state, but after some time Morgan came to his senses. He didn't even try to remember how he got to Branderskar. All his tormented mind could do now was to make him look around and listen, trying to determine, who else was nearby and who was guarding them. Obviously, freedom was unattainable for now - not that Morgan knew, what he would do, if he suddenly gets it. And so, he waited. Still and silent.

Spoiler: Actions

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(1d20+7)[10] - Perception, trying to understand, what's around and who's guarding the place.

[bcool999]

Rhialla Von Chalon Aasimar Dread Rajah AC: 14 (14 T/10 FF) Initiative: +4 HP: 10/10 Perception: +5 Conditions: restrained Crime: Sedition

Rhialla cannot believe the conditions she is in. Bad enough to be chained and fed filth barely acceptable for servants, but to also be left to wallow in her own filth? Or suffer the stench of seven other unwashed bodies. One of which is a blasted corpse the guards refuse to remove.

No matter. It will be patience not fury that will give Rhialla her chance. Then will come fury.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Perception: (1d20+5)[8]
Sense Motive: (1d20+5)[13]
Mostly to notice any weaknesses to exploit in the guards.

[infomatic]

Fara Eiasale Human Spiritualist/Soulweaver AC: 15 (13T/13 FF) Initiative: +2 HP: 10/10 Perception: +3 Conditions: restrained Crime: Desecration

"nnnn-AAAH!"

Farahzad makes perhaps her hundredth attempt of the day to pull the chains from the walls, snarling in frustration more than pain even as the manacles bite into her wrists.

She knows it's impossible; these irons were made to hold prisoners far stronger than her. She knows she'd be better off doing almost anything else. She knows these others around her probably think she's crazy.

She tries again.

[tonberrian]

Wordlessly, Vivian strains at her bonds. She stares daggers out of the cell, promising murder to each and every one of the guards there. She will be free of this, she is certain - she was promised power, not to languish in a cell. Despite the pain she continues to try the chains.

Spoiler

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Strength check against the manacles - i know it's impossible, but i want to try anyways! (1d20+4)[22]

[DM_Danger]

Spoiler: Morgan's Thoughts

Show

Several days, - or weeks, maybe? - ago the last rebels were crushed in the process of trying to recapture the leader of the uprising, Sir Connor. But, besides witnessing his father's death, Morgan experienced another event, - the entity, which was Lord Reinhart was bound with, moved to his heir. And the process was... uneasy. In fact, right before capture Morgan went into a semi-mad state, hardly aware of what was happening around him, as internal changes occupied all his attention. The moments of his capture and transportation were mixed with phantasmagorical visions of distant spaces and sensations of transformation, and Reinhart Jr. could not even remember the moment of sentencing. Anti-magic shackles, obviously, also did not contribute to the normal state, but after some time Morgan came to his senses. He didn't even try to remember how he got to Branderskar. All his tormented mind could do now was to make him look around and listen, trying to determine, who else was nearby and who was guarding them. Obviously, freedom was unattainable for now - not that Morgan knew, what he would do, if he suddenly gets it. And so, he waited. Still and silent.

Spoiler: Actions

Show

[roll0] - Perception, trying to understand, what's around and who's guarding the place.

Spoiler: Your Understanding

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You appear to be on the second floor of a small castle by a lake or sea. The guards are numerous, but typically only number two at the guard station down the hall some 80ft away. You must pass through the guard room to get the the stairs, you know this because you were dragged through the room with the stairs to a small side room where you where questioned and branded. Typically, the Guards change shifts at dawn and dusk, do a walk around, perform a feeding, perhaps a cleaning, always a head count, maybe give you a kick, and go about their business. The feeding is usually a molding piece of bread and a tankard of water, and the cleaning is a bucket of water thrown at you. The day shift seems to preoccupy themselves with dice, and the night crew with naps. Based on the rotation, there must be at least 10 or 12 guards, probably more. Mostly on the day shift, you deal with "Ton" and "Derry". They like to dice in the guard room and can be quite loud and boisterous. At night, "Beckett" and "Lloyd" seem to want mostly to complete their chores and slip off to nap, as it appears they both have have two jobs. The sack has enough holes in it to peek about, and is not tightly on, it has fallen off before, and the guards who check on you have put it back on, threatening to gag you or worse if you don't keep it on, though they haven't made good on the threat yet. Most of this floor is open, with bars separating it into cells, most of which are empty now, as the last batch was "processed" (executed), last week. There is a room at the end of the hall to the right of you, that the guards refer to as "The Max". There is something in there, something large, loud, and powerful, that caused quite a ruckus when the guards put it in there, presumably resulting in injuries, as two guards had to be dragged off after it was detained. Whatever it is, they beat it fiercely, and it seems by the groans and sighs coming from the Max, to be nursing it's wounds. The guards have avoided the Max since, though when the Snakeman snickered at the wounded guards, they beat him soundly to death and left him chained up to stink up the cell. The Guard Captain is a man called "Blackerly", conversations overhead from the guards seem to suggest he may be corrupt, and he is definitely cruel. He oversaw your branding, and seemed to take delight in it. He is the one that killed the snakeman, and he is the one that told the other guards to leave it up.

Rhialla cannot believe the conditions she is in. Bad enough to be chained and fed filth barely acceptable for servants, but to also be left to wallow in her own filth? Or suffer the stench of seven other unwashed bodies. One of which is a blasted corpse the guards refuse to remove.

No matter. It will be patience not fury that will give Rhialla her chance. Then will come fury.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Perception: [roll0]
Sense Motive: [roll1]
Mostly to notice any weaknesses to exploit in the guards.

Spoiler: Cracks

Show

The guards on the day shift seem to like to gamble, the guards on the night shift like to sleep. Money seems to be an issue for all, though they seem like conscientious if lazy guards. The Guard Captain seems greedy, cruel, and a bit sadistic given the glee he showed when he oversaw your branding. He also has a violent temper, as evidenced when he beat the snakeman to death for snickering at the wounding of his men.

"nnnn-AAAH!"

Farahzad makes perhaps her hundredth attempt of the day to pull the chains from the walls, snarling in frustration more than pain even as the manacles bite into her wrists.

She knows it's impossible; these irons were made to hold prisoners far stronger than her. She knows she'd be better off doing almost anything else. She knows these others around her probably think she's crazy.

She tries again.

Spoiler: The Struggle Within

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The cold iron shackles itch maddeningly, but somehow weaken the Beast within you. You can barely hear its whispers, though it remains as always angry and sullen. When you snarl, the Beast rejoices, when you struggle against your chains, It appears gleeful. It WANTS you to resist. Others, seem to take advantage of the useless racket you are making...perhaps not so useless after all. A small woman near you takes advantage of your flailings to cover her bending the hook that her manacles hang from. How could such a tiny woman do such thing? The Beast is impressed. But your struggles do not go unnoticed. Sounds like you are riling up the one called "Beckett", a generally good and kind man, but one that likes quiet nights. The Beast giggles at the promise of mayhem.

"Ugh! It is the nutter again. Mitra save us! Oi! Lassie, knock that racket off or Ima cuff ya good, ya daft loon!" Calls the guard Beckett in response to Fara's struggles.

Wordlessly, Vivian strains at her bonds. She stares daggers out of the cell, promising murder to each and every one of the guards there. She will be free of this, she is certain - she was promised power, not to languish in a cell. Despite the pain she continues to try the chains.

Spoiler

Show

Strength check against the manacles - i know it's impossible, but i want to try anyways! [roll0]

Spoiler: What was once impossible.

Show

The girl near you begins to make some racket, and you decide it is the best chance to test your restraints. You strain against the manacles with a glorious strength that only the Darkness could afford you. The old you, the weak, sickly, frail, you, would be useless, but the NEW you, the better you is no weakling. What was once impossible now seems attainable. The manacles resist, but the hook that they hang from noticeably bends, enough so, that you think you could snap the hook or tear it out of the wall with a bit of determination. Of course, then you would still be chained, in a locked cell, surrounded by guards...still, it sounds like a promising start, perhaps one of these criminals could pick the locks if they could put their arms down. Your musings are interupted by the guard's shouts, you release the tension and the strained hook snaps back. [OOC: A character of your strength could probably break or bend the hook if you took 20]

[infomatic]

[COLOR="#0000CD"]"Ugh! It is the nutter again. Mitra save us! Oi! Lassie, knock that racket off or Ima cuff ya good, ya daft loon!"

"AAAH… nnngh."
Fara had worked up a ear-rending scream in response to the threat, for all the good it would do. But it dies in her mouth as the Thing Inside her takes an interest in that woman bending the hook.

She's even smaller than you. The thoughts aren't hers, but they come to her anyway. Are you that weak, or just too stupid to try the hook instead of the chains?

Weak, she thinks. She knows she's no great brain, either, but she's smart enough — and in control enough, for the moment — to know not to draw the guard attention while her cellmate is working.

[AvatarVecna]

Matted red hair clumped up beneath the burlap sack, but Sera didn't pay it any mind. Now was not the time for vanity. She does not bother straining against her bonds. Her small frame lacked anything even close to the mass necessary to strain them. If she braced herself against the wall, at best she would merely exhaust herself prematurely; at worst, she would break a bone. Either way, she'd just be making it even harder to attempt to escape once the manacles were uncoupled from the wall. That would be her best opportunity.

Sera glances at the other figures cooped up in her cell. She can't really make out many details, but she could at least get a sense of their size, which might hint at some capabilities. She also tries to determine if she can communicate with the others in the cell without the guards picking up on it. Celestial was right out - it was popular enough for religious purposes that any of them could potentially speak it, but the guards were far more likely to know it, or at least recognize it as an attempt to communicate. Elven had similar issues - more cultural than religious, in that it was so popular they might know it, but the guards were equally likely to know it. Goblin was right out, for completely different reasons; while it was a common tongue back home, and might be similarly popular for other settlements built along the edge of the wall, for most of the empire it was gobbledygook. Draconic could work; it was unlikely a guard would be overly familiar with it, but it was popular among scholars and mages, the exact kind of minds she could enjoy conspiring with. Of course, Infernal could also work; even learning enough to know what the phonetics sounded like would be blasphemous for the guards, while anyone imprisoned here had a higher-than-average chance of knowing it.

Sera spoke a few short greeting phrases in Draconic and Infernal, being sure to disguise her communication in coughs just in case.

Spoiler: OoC

Show

Not bothering testing the chains. Stronger folk than I can handle that part of the escape. I could potentially try to pull loose from them, maybe even succeeding if I'm willing to mangle my hand to escape (I can heal it later). But for now, I want to find out if I can communicate with the others, without tipping off the guards. It feels like a Bluff check so I'll roll that?

Bluff: (1d20+10)[26]

[Xav]

Morgan Reinhart Half-Elf Batal Synthesist AC: 11 (11 T/10 FF) DR: - HP: 11/11 Perception: +7 Initiative: -1 Conditions: restrained

Slowly returning control over his body and consciousness, Morgan finds out, that his mind works surpsusingly good. At least, he remembers the details of his imprisonment and even the names and characters of some of the guards. Not that this Information was very useful now.

When one of the prisoners begins to shout, Morgan wrinkles. Loud noise attracts the guard. The guard is unwelcome here. And someone like Blackerly would gladly take a chance to prove his not-so-good nature. Still, when Reinhart hears the unknown language, he reacts. Silently shakes his head, showing, that he does not understand what is being said, but is aware and potentially eager to cooperate.

Now, when he hears Infernal, he immediately understands it and answers quietly: "Not now. Awake" - and nods at the direction of guards.

[TheThrongler]

Osmond Halbrin Tiefling Sphereshaper/Scholar AC: 13 (13 T/10 FF) DR: 2/Blugeoning HP: 8/8 Perception: +5 Initiative: +3 Conditions: restrained

Hearing the familiar sibilant sounds of the draconic and Hellish tongues from a few of his fellow Forsaken gives Osmond cause to hope. "I hear you", the attempt at a comforting sentiment easier to convey in Draconic before switching to Infernal to include the other man as well, "We watch, and be ready to act when the opportunity comes". As his whispers cease, Osmond feels more hopeful about his chances; his hands may be bound, but he does his best to guide his hand through the familiar motions of his daily ritual, sketching in the air with his fingers the glyph he has drawn so often over his heart.

[infomatic]

While The Beast was surprised by Vivian's success against the metal hook, it's Fara's turn to be startled as the others' whispers, at first in some strange tongue, suddenly shift into recognizable words.

They speak The Nines? she thought. It was a language she'd picked up from her father, who spoke it to the men who crewed his merchant ships. Some island dialect, he'd said, and very useful in trade.

Strange that these others would know it. Perhaps they knew her father as well; perhaps he'd betrayed them, too.

Spoiler: ooc

Show

Fara doesn't realize it's Infernal, or that her father's a diabolist.

[bcool999]

Rhialla Von Chalon Aasimar Dread Rajah AC: 14 (14 T/10 FF) Initiative: +4 HP: 10/10 Perception: +5 Conditions: restrained Crime: Sedition

”And for a moment it was so blessedly quiet.” Rhialla lamented, “Now the nutters have all started babbling incoherently.”

[TheThrongler]

Osmond Halbrin Tiefling Sphereshaper/Scholar AC: 13 (13 T/10 FF) DR: 2/Blugeoning HP: 8/8 Perception: +5 Initiative: +3 Conditions: restrained

"If everything you lack the education to understand seems the speech of 'nutters'," Osmond's whispers almost drip venom "then I've no doubt your life has been quite the madhouse."

[bcool999]

Rhialla Von Chalon Aasimar Dread Rajah AC: 14 (14 T/10 FF) Initiative: +4 HP: 10/10 Perception: +5 Conditions: restrained Crime: Sedition

Rhialla laughs in a lilting cadence that seems much practiced and replies, ”You spent far too long with your nose in a book before coming here haven’t you? What’s mad is you think hiding the meaning of your words will spare you a beating. Keeping secrets raises one’s curiosity… and ire.

[TheThrongler]

Osmond Halbrin Tiefling Sphereshaper/Scholar AC: 13 (13 T/10 FF) DR: 2/Blugeoning HP: 8/8 Perception: +5 Initiative: +3 Conditions: restrained

"In that I am so much as acquainted with the concept of a book, I'm sure you would find such familiarity excessive." The barbs come easily, his only real outlet at the moment. He sighs, however, and decides to indulge his unlettered neighbor. He forces a civil tone and drops his voice even lower, barely audible even by the measure of his previous whispers, "I said merely, 'be ready for our chance.' We may only get the one."

[tonberrian]

Vivian listens in. She readies herself to bend the hook out when that chance arrives, but says nothing.

[Athaleon]

"I said merely, 'be ready for our chance.' We may only get the one."

"Well said." Hechter whispered in a thin, raspy Infernal. A spirited bunch. We may yet escape.

"Wait for night, after the changing of the guard."

[TheThrongler]

Osmond Halbrin Tiefling Sphereshaper/Scholar AC: 13 (13 T/10 FF) DR: 2/Blugeoning HP: 8/8 Perception: +5 Initiative: +3 Conditions: restrained

Considering the discussion finished for the moment, Osmond leans back and resolves to rest as best he can. He may even be able to get a few hours of sleep if he is lucky.

[infomatic]

Fara says nothing, but leans against the wall, the chains jangling quietly. She is, for the moment, too confused to be furious.

Besides, if that man was serious about escaping, she might yet need her rest.

[DM_Danger]

The night goes on, but the guards leave little chance for escape, tonight. Perhaps disturbed by the struggles of Fara, or suspicious of the odd sounds and whispers of the other prisoners, the guards seem unusually alert. Still, hope, such a small fragile thing, seems to flourish, perhaps, if only, they could work together, at least some of them might survive the day, for without hope, none would survive after 3 days time. All the time you have left on this world, and it is going so quickly. Before you know it, dawn is shining on your faces, and a new day begins with more drudgery, abuse, and neglect. Soon after the last bucket of water is flung upon you and the guards retreat to their hutch, loud voices can be heard from the guard room.

Ton and Derry, and FIVE others come back in the cell area. Ton waits outside with a horn, while Derry comes in to assist the others. They are led by Sergeant Tomas Blackerly. This was the man who held the brand that marked each of them. He laughed as their skin burned. He beat the snakeman to death for a snicker. Right now, though the sergeant seems a little...off. Something is not quite right about the brutish sadist if you have a care to notice.
He points to Sera, the one who first tried to speak with you in her strange languages, and says gruffly:

“You there! That’s the scum!
Get ‘er unshackled.
If any of you makes trouble, they’ll earn a thrashing!
Today’s your lucky day, scum.
You’ve got a visitor.
How you ever warranted such a fine lady is beyond me.
Seems she wants to say good-bye.
Now step lively. We wouldn’t want to keep her waiting.”

They take the hood off of Sera, who can now be seen as a red-headed waif of a girl. She looks bewildered, as if a visitor was the last thing in the world she was expecting. They take her shackles off of the wall with a forked stick, though you think the big prisoner, Hechter, could do it without such aids if the hook was bent. Roughly, she is escorted out of the room. The Guest in the Max, excited by the activity, acts up, howling horribly and banging mightily on the walls. The guards are visible shook, and hurry along. Sergeant Blackerly yells:

"SHUT UP YOU! OR I'LL BREAK YOUR OTHER DAMN LEG!"

The din subsides. Sera is hustled along to the branding room down the hall and shoved into a chair. Fortunately, this time, there is no hot brand and pain waiting this time. This time, there
waiting for you 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 color, that seems to dance between blue and green. She clearly has been weeping.

Spoiler: Tiadora

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“Oh, dearest niece!,” proclaims the unfamiliar woman.
“I’m so relieved you’re alive!” She quickly turns to Tomas.
“Could we please have a moment alone, good sir? For pity’s sake?”
Tomas goes blank for a bit and then quickly agrees.
“Of course, my lady. For you,’ tis no problem.”
Clearly, Sera, this woman has some sort of power over the wretched Sergeant.
As soon as the guards leave, her demeanor immediately changes.
She drops all pretense of grief or concern. She is immediately all business.
“Have you forgotten me, dearest?” the unexpected visitor says with a smirk, dropping her pretense of grief. Despite having never met her, you feel an intense desire to have known her.

“You may call me Tiadora. Luckily for you, we possess a mutual friend who would like to meet you and your fellow cell-mates, every-single-one-of-them. Unfortunately, our friend is unwilling to visit you in your present rather shabby accommodations so it seems you must escape. Don’t pour dear, it will cause wrinkles. Our friend, is only interested in meeting resourceful survivors. Just because it’s never been done before is no reason you can’t be the first."

She pauses a beat to search your eyes for...something. Apparently she likes what she sees, she gives you a wicked smile and continues.

“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. Oh, and he wanted 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.” she says with a wink.

Spoiler: Veil

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[AvatarVecna]

Sera focuses hard on her peripheral vision on the way to meet her visitor, intending to memorize as much of her surroundings as possible in case it proves helpful later.

She takes off her silken veil and wipes away a few fake tears with it.

“Something to remember me by, dearest.” she says with a wink.

Spoiler: Veil

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Sera's mind whirred, and the details were stored away as surely as if they'd been locked in a vault. Tiadora, cross the moors outside town, manor house on old Moor Road, one lantern on second floor. Her eyes flicked to the veil - it was likely a magic item of some kind, rather than just a harmless keepsake. Her eyes flicked back to the strange woman, and she offered a smile of her own. It reached her eyes, but only just - she was genuinely grateful for the assistance, but at the same time she got the feeling the woman was toying with more than just the sergeant. She was too confident for this to be a risky move on her part, which meant she could probably help them escape all the way if she wanted to. It was a test of their ingenuity. Sera half-wondered how often this offer had been made in the past, if this was the woman's true face.

"My condolences for the loss of any other nieces and nephews you might have," she replies after a few moments, her voice a touch raspy from being out of practice the past few days. "I hope you'll forgive me a touch of curiosity..." she trailed off, considering her next words. "I don't suppose you know what exactly is locked up in maximum security? Seems to have given the guards quite a bit of trouble, I worry for my safety if it were to break loose, is all." Sera clearly seems more curious than concerned, which the woman is sure to pick up on. She wasn't quite sure what else to ask - if the woman had information she wanted to share to aid their escape, she likely would've provided it. Withholding such insights was likely part of the test, and this question could hopefully help gauge where the edge of that reticence lay.

[DM_Danger]

Sera focuses hard on her peripheral vision on the way to meet her visitor, intending to memorize as much of her surroundings as possible in case it proves helpful later.



Sera's mind whirred, and the details were stored away as surely as if they'd been locked in a vault. Tiadora, cross the moors outside town, manor house on old Moor Road, one lantern on second floor. Her eyes flicked to the veil - it was likely a magic item of some kind, rather than just a harmless keepsake. Her eyes flicked back to the strange woman, and she offered a smile of her own. It reached her eyes, but only just - she was genuinely grateful for the assistance, but at the same time she got the feeling the woman was toying with more than just the sergeant. She was too confident for this to be a risky move on her part, which meant she could probably help them escape all the way if she wanted to. It was a test of their ingenuity. Sera half-wondered how often this offer had been made in the past, if this was the woman's true face.

"My condolences for the loss of any other nieces and nephews you might have," she replies after a few moments, her voice a touch raspy from being out of practice the past few days. "I hope you'll forgive me a touch of curiosity..." she trailed off, considering her next words. "I don't suppose you know what exactly is locked up in maximum security? Seems to have given the guards quite a bit of trouble, I worry for my safety if it were to break loose, is all." Sera clearly seems more curious than concerned, which the woman is sure to pick up on. She wasn't quite sure what else to ask - if the woman had information she wanted to share to aid their escape, she likely would've provided it. Withholding such insights was likely part of the test, and this question could hopefully help gauge where the edge of that reticence lay.

The woman's innocent grieving demeanor gracefully slips into something seemingly more natural, more predatory, and utterly more frightening.

"Oh, I won't mourn the loss of nieces and nephews of winter's past, deary, Talingarde breeds your kinsmen like rabbits. The clime seems particularly agreeable to such procreation. It is your own hide that should concern you, dearest kit."
A toothy grin is your reward for mentioning the prisoner in maximum security.
"Oh, that. That, is something that is far too rare in this country nowadays. That..."she rolls her eyes up into her head trying to recall with frustration, "...is a Grumblejack. A particularly nasty and violent one for sure, most are mere brutes, but that one is gifted for his kind. Lucky for you, that the guards broke its leg for killing to of its own, otherwise, it might be a serious threat. Good thing no meek mouse has come along to pull the thorn out of that lion's paw, it might be grateful, and reek havoc while all the mice start to dance and play"

[DM_Danger]

--->Sera Arfina<---

As you sit and listen to the woman's response, you regard her carefully, there is something off about her. The effortless sensuality and charm, the obvious ensorcelment of the guards...something sounds familiar. And then there is her appearance, it seems...unnatural...too...perfect. This woman doesn't seem to have a single mole, pimple, or other blemish on any of her exposed body. And that name...it isn't quite the same, but wasn't there a {REDACTED} in {REDACTED}'s {REDACTED} {REDACTED}? She too, had white hair, and was known by many names, such as {REDACTED}, {REDACTED}, and even {REDACTED}. That would make her a {REDACTED}, and if their mysterious benefactor could command it to such mundane tasks then they had a powerful ally indeed. Your thought's are interupted by the {REDACTED}'s smile.

"Ah, clever rabbit, aren't you delicious, I can see why the Master favors you so.", she pats your hand lightly...

And everything changes, Tiadora is no longer patting your hand, she is standing up away from you, putting on her gloves and preparing to depart. You are no longer examining the veil, it is somehow tucked in your sleeve. She smiles at you again, and you feel a distinct chill run down your spine. Where were you? How did you lose your train of thought? You must remember, remember something very, very, important, but you simply cannot. What were you thinking...it was so close, and yet so fleeting, the thought seemed so faraway, so distant. You absentmindedly wipe some drool off of your chin. When did that happen? You have a distinct impression that you have lost a bit of time.

"Forgetting something, Sera? Should I take more of your time?"

Her message delivered, she rises and the guards return. Immediately, her demeanor once more changes and she is again a perfect picture of grief. “No, I can't bear to leave you!”
She gives you a kiss on the cheek. The kiss is ice-cold and feels somehow alien and inhuman.

[AvatarVecna]

--->Sera Arfina<---

As you sit and listen to the woman's response, you regard her carefully, there is something off about her. The effortless sensuality and charm, the obvious ensorcelment of the guards...something sounds familiar. And then there is her appearance, it seems...unnatural...too...perfect. This woman doesn't seem to have a single mole, pimple, or other blemish on any of her exposed body. And that name...it isn't quite the same, but wasn't there a {REDACTED} in {REDACTED}'s {REDACTED} {REDACTED}? She too, had white hair, and was known by many names, such as {REDACTED}, {REDACTED}, and even {REDACTED}. That would make her a {REDACTED}, and if their mysterious benefactor could command it to such mundane tasks then they had a powerful ally indeed. Your thought's are interupted by the {REDACTED}'s smile.

"Ah, clever rabbit, aren't you delicious, I can see why the Master favors you so.", she pats your hand lightly...

And everything changes, Tiadora is no longer patting your hand, she is standing up away from you, putting on her gloves and preparing to depart. You are no longer examining the veil, it is somehow tucked in your sleeve. She smiles at you again, and you feel a distinct chill run down your spine. Where were you? How did you lose your train of thought? You must remember, remember something very, very, important, but you simply cannot. What were you thinking...it was so close, and yet so fleeting, the thought seemed so faraway, so distant. You absentmindedly wipe some drool off of your chin. When did that happen? You have a distinct impression that you have lost a bit of time.

"Forgetting something, Sera? Should I take more of your time?"

Her message delivered, she rises and the guards return. Immediately, her demeanor once more changes and she is again a perfect picture of grief. “No, I can't bear to leave you!”
She gives you a kiss on the cheek. The kiss is ice-cold and feels somehow alien and inhuman.

Sera grasps for the points of solidity that remain locked in her mind. Tiadora, veil, Rumblejack, town, moor, road, manor, lantern. Her memory was muddled on most of the meeting - active sabotage, or some kind of passive effect? She yanked her mental train of thought away from that - that could be tested later, and couldn't be tested now, so don't think about it for a little bit. Her eyes locked onto the guard's uniform, and she busied herself thinking through historical events as a means of distracting herself from thinking about the woman further. Just start an internal monologue to avoid thinking about whether thinking about the effect would trigger it or not anything other than interesting historical trivia.

"It was good to see you," she says aloud, and she even meant it. If for no other reason than having a chance to live now.

[DM_Danger]

Sera grasps for the points of solidity that remain locked in her mind. Tiadora, veil, Rumblejack, town, moor, road, manor, lantern. Her memory was muddled on most of the meeting - active sabotage, or some kind of passive effect? She yanked her mental train of thought away from that - that could be tested later, and couldn't be tested now, so don't think about it for a little bit. Her eyes locked onto the guard's uniform, and she busied herself thinking through historical events as a means of distracting herself from thinking about the woman further. Just start an internal monologue to avoid thinking about whether thinking about the effect would trigger it or not anything other than interesting historical trivia.

"It was good to see you," she says aloud, and she even meant it. If for no other reason than having a chance to live now.

"And to see you," The woman says, with some genuine sincerity, "I feel we will meet again, you and I, in this life or the next."

Tomas shakes his head. “I’m afraid it’s time, miss.”

She looks deep in Tomas’ eyes and says, “Thank you for letting me say good-bye. There’s no need to search my dearest. You are such a good friend for letting me see my dearest one more time.”

“Such a good friend,” Tomas repeats his voice almost mechanical. Then the watch sergeant seems to snap out of it and bows politely. “A pleasure, madam,”
She leaves unveiled. Her eyes meet you one last time and she briefly gives you a wicked smile.
<Three days, bring all of you to the manor within three days> telepathically echoes in Sera's mind. <Don’t disappoint me, dearest>.

The visitation concluded, Sera is taken back to the cell by a cadre of guards and shackled once more.

Spoiler: OOC: "Have I heard that name before?"

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AV, you can make a Know: Local for Sera when you get a chance.