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 Posted: Sat Feb 07, 2015 10:10 am
In the kingdom of Talingarde, many crimes may send you to Branderscar Prison, but the sentence has but one meaning. You are wicked and irredeemable. Each of you received the same greeting when you arrived. You were held down by rough hands and branded upon the arm with a runic F. The mark signifies ‘forsaken’ and the painful scar is indelible proof that each of you has betrayed the great and eternal love of Mitra and his chosen mortal vassals. Condemned, you face at best a life of shackles and servitude in the nearby salt mines. Others might await the “gentle” ministrations of the inquisitors so that co-conspirators may be revealed and confessions extracted. Perhaps, some of you will be spared this ordeal. Perhaps instead you have come to Branderscar to face the final judgment. In three days, the executioner arrives and the axe falls or the pyre will be lit. Through fire or steel, your crimes will be answered. You have all been chained together
in the same communal cell dressed in nothing but filthy, tattered rags. Manhandled and mistreated, any finery you once possessed is either ruined or long lost. No special treatment has been given any prisoner – male or female, commoner or noble – all of the forsaken are bound and imprisoned together. Your feet are secured by iron cuffs tethered by one long chain. Your arms are secured to the wall above by manacles. A guard is posted
right outside the cell day and night.
Little thought is given to long term accommodations. At Branderscar,
justice comes swift and sure. Escape seems hopeless. You have all been well searched and every attempt to conceal anything useful 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?
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Posted: Sat Feb 07, 2015 10:33 am
Character Name: Ingvar Tarrasque
HP: 8
AC: 12
Status: Normal
Current Location: With the Group
Ingvar ran his fingers across the surface of the rusty old ring on his left hand. His mind was ablaze with thoughts of anger, frustration and despair. It would be merely three days before his accomplished life came to an end and despite his supreme intellect, he could not figure out a plan that might save himself from his doomed fate. Sure, if he could somehow get his hands unchained from the manacles and used one of the stored spells in his repertoire to destroy the aged iron bars of his cage, he might be able to make a run for it.
But to what end?
The guards would overwhelm his aged form in little time and with likely little effort. Even if he were to avoid detection and escape this hellhole, there was nowhere for the aged wizard to go. The others at the college of magi had stood their ground and been slaughtered by the damned witch-hunters. He had chosen to surrender and face whatever judgement may come as a long-shot hope that there might be some escape from death. He had never married and his family had been long gone, thus it seemed unlikely that anyone would shelter an escaped elderly wizard branded as Forsaken. Glimpsing down at the charred flesh on his arm where the brand now stared menacingly back at him.
What an extraordinary waste.
He thought to himself as he sat there, chained with the other simpletons whom he had been locked up alongside. He took a moment to examine the three of them. All noticeably younger men than he, they appeared even more despondent. He looked at the furthest one, Cirano, he had heard the guards refer to him and could tell the man was a desperate coward even at first glance, a glorified bully who was getting what he deserved. His aged eyes turned to the other two however and discovered a far different aura upon them.
"You two," he said in a raspy voice, "Yes, you the beady eyed scrawny lad, and the one positively emanating rage. Who are you? How did you come to be locked up in this gods-forsaken pit?"
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Posted: Sat Feb 07, 2015 11:31 am
Character Name: Feoric Towns
HP: 8
AC: 15
Status: Normal
Current Location: With the Group
Feoric turned his gaze to the old man. He was back again in this s**t hole of a place. With a gentle move his face went into a stream of weak light, even though he rather just slid back into the darkness. He'd be out of here and then he'd get his chance. In his mind he'd been back to the taverns. The city roofs, where he was free. A tree to climb or a challenge to pick. No he'd been stuck with a bunch of people and then this old fool wants to know who he was. Well then, let us see who he was.
"I'm no one other then the true heir to the kingdom." He'd bluff, it was one of his better strength in life. Talking his way out of tight spots and blaming the other guys. He'd once walked out with the jewels and a drunk carried of to jail for the crime. This old fart wanted to know who he was, well let us paint him a picture. Would they believe, then maybe he'd get them to risk their limbs for his safety and freedom. Well all until they realized he'd sell them for a warm woman and a good meal. Life was after all to be enjoyed. To be tied down and locked in eternal hardship was not for him. No, it was to fly freely and do what he wanted. What was not his he took and then he used it fully. When it had lost its splendor, he'd get rid of it and move on. His life was important to him and he'd kill and betrayed already. Who cared if another fell for his words or blade?
Skill usage:Bluff
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Posted: Sat Feb 07, 2015 2:50 pm
Character Name: Ingvar Tarrasque
HP: 8
AC: 12
Status: Normal
Current Location: With the Group
((Sense Motive Result 20 VS. 19 Bluff. Ingvar sees through Feoric's charade.))
The wrinkled mage cackled with glee at the preposterous notion.
"Oh, I see! True heir to the throne of Talingarde eh? Sure! I'll believe that. Oh, and I bet that Cirano over there is the famous witch-hunter, the goodly Knight Balin!"
He quickly turns and feigns terror while regarding the pathetic washed-up soldier.
"Oh please! Please Sir Balin! I don't know anything more! You inquisitors are truly the light of Mitra! Asmodeus grant mercy on my old black heart! Pffft! Ahahaha!"
Cirano gave him a nasty sneer before harrumphing and turning away. His ragged form finished laughing before returning his gaze back to the whelp.
"I've had bowel movements that were more convincing than you, boy. The truth of the matter is that I see a true fire in your eyes and regardless if you're too stubborn to hear my counsel then I hope you're prepared for what comes next. The executioner will be here in no time. If you're lucky, he'll just be signing paperwork to send you off to the bloody salt mines for the rest of your pathetic life. If you're luckier still, you might have a quick death like beheading. Me? It's likely death at the stake. Never did like fire much, though to be fair I was starting to enjoy toying with it at the college of Magi before they kicked in the doors and slaughtered everyone for their blasted 'holy crusade'."
He drew a deep breath and let out an exasperated sigh.
"Nobody has ever escaped Branderscar in the entirety of its damned existence. What an end for a scholar... Such a bloody waste."
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Posted: Sun Feb 08, 2015 10:40 am
Character Name: Feoric Towns
HP: 8
AC: 15
Status: Normal
Current Location: With the Group
As the old man begun to rant as all old men begins to rant when they do believe they hold all the cards. The man was to be chopped off, rought problem for him but it wasn't Feorics problem. "Wasn't planning to be very convincing. Every one can clearly see my nose doesn't point into the far sky enough for me to be royal." His quick reply followed befoire anyother could add to the rant. Then he took more note to the old mans rantings. "Wouldn't it be a grand to have all of your just cut down, turn to sand. Then completely forgotten and me I'm off to the salt mines. I don't have to escape fom here."
With that said he slowly leaned back itno the shadows, hising his face again form the light. It felt more comfortable in it, specially here with all unkown people with unknown skills. "So, why should I risk a bigger sentence then the one I'm going to recieve for you. If you could escape you would do so alone as one hides easier then two. You either don't know how and are reaching for straws. Clawing your way to grasp what little chance of more days then you have. The other reason would be that you know how to get out but lack the skill to. That's why you may need me if you're as wise as your believe you probably have my proffession figured out." Being secretive was his work and traits. A big sign stating his name and what he did would have put him down years ago. Now to see how the old fart moved his pawn in this social chessboard. Odd, he was interested in this man and what it would lead to.
Skill usage:N/A
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Posted: Sun Feb 08, 2015 12:49 pm
Character Name: Ingvar Tarrasque
HP: 8
AC: 12
Status: Normal
Current Location: With the Group
The old wizard grinned at the young man's remark about royalty and the smile persisted even as the beady-eyed little prisoner went on about his ignorant rant. He was too young to understand that life in forced labor was a far worse fate than a quick death.
It was then that the prisoner seemed to call him out, to which the old man's face became exceptionally serious and his tone especially cold. Every word seemed to bring a chill to the air.
"To put it simply, lad: we *are* out of options. There's a reason that each of us were branded. We are forsaken. Even if we somehow became the first to escape Branderscar Prison, we face a life in exile at best and return to captivity followed by death at worst. I am merely trying to take stock of the limited resources we have available and yes, grasping at straws to potentially make one last leap for freedom."
He blew a deep sigh and his visage seemed to soften a bit.
"Whether we like it or not, we're facing the same general fate; and as such, I'm willing to extend an olive branch. My name is Ingvar Tarrasque. I was in a college of magi sponsored by the dark lord Asmodeus until the Mitran witch hunters bashed in our doors and laid waste to our sanctum. They deemed us malcontents and petty charlatans."
His tired eyes became misty for only a split second as he remembered his fallen colleagues and friends before it transformed into pure unbridled fury.
"If I ever do see the light of day again, you can be rest assured that I'll be spending the remainder of my well-worn life to the destruction of this new Mitran order and the damnable House of Darius."
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Posted: Sun Feb 08, 2015 2:41 pm
Character Name: Malphas Bermitrius
HP: 11/11
AC: 11
Status: normal
Gold: none
Current Location: With group
Malphas hangs limply on the wall of the cold cell as his long shaggy locks cover his angular face before he clenches his fists at the mention of Knight Balin as he glares at Ingvar for mentioning the wrenched man that placed him in this cell.
He growls out,"I hope Asmodeous grants me the pleasure of watching you burn for disrespecting him in such a tone" as he spits on the floor disgusted. As he cold eyes glare at the group as the strange burned insignia for Asmodeous can be seen on his left palm.
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Posted: Sun Feb 08, 2015 4:23 pm
Character Name: Ingvar Tarrasque
HP: 8
AC: 12
Status: Normal
Current Location: With the Group
The wizard's attention suddenly shifted to the young man who had been silent thus far.
"Disrespect, lad? If you mean for Asmodeus, I am a humble follower myself. I mean no disrespect to the Dark Prince. I'm afraid your threats are as useless as this one's bravado, however," he huffed as he referenced the beady eyed man.
"And as for that self-righteous pig, Balin: I hope Asmodeus has a special place in the hells waiting for him. I'd love nothing more than to see his blood be spilled before the end of my wretched life."
The entire group can hear the approach of what sounds like a host of guards in chain armor descending the steps to their level of the dungeon.
"What in all the Burning Depths is going on up there?"
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Posted: Mon Feb 09, 2015 4:33 am
NPC Posting
Cirano scowled at the developing conversations between his cellmates. He had already accepted his fate and became increasingly annoyed that these other fools were making it more unbearable.
"Look. Asmodeus be damned, we're all going to die here, or in the salt mines in the years to come. Just make peace with it and be done."
The wizard called Ingvar looked at him then with a stare that chilled his very bones.
"The blasphemers of The Dark Prince are few, Cirano Dolvex. That is for a very pertinent reason. You should consider just how miserable your life can become before the end. Scorn him once more and I believe the warden's may find that you've acquired a new necklace that is too tight for you to part with; these chains are not the most flexible of materials after all."
The chained soldier said nothing more, simply hanging his head in despair and refusing to look back at the others in his cell.
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Posted: Tue Feb 10, 2015 1:08 am
Character Name: Feoric Towns
HP: 8
AC: 15
Status: Normal
Current Location: With the Group
Feoric listen on and thanked his luck that his cellmates wasn't complete lunatics. They where some of those who was here because what they believed in. Shouldn't something like that be pretty easy to hide. Must have been reckless or done something pretty stupid to end up here. Well the magician was just staying at home not looking who came knocking. The other dude, more of a wonder how it came for him to end up here. "Well, the easiest way in or our of places are with the key. If the light goes out and the guards must check upon us. My fingers can wrap them selves around some keys. Note that I can team up until we're out, then we split." That was most likely the most profitable solution for him here. Even if one was easier to hide then several. If a few got caught he could slip away. If he got caught he'd have some hope they rescue him.
Skill usage:N/A
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Posted: Tue Feb 10, 2015 5:00 am
NPC Posting
The sound of guards approaching finally reaches its apex as a contingent of six well-armed and armored soldiers step into the hall where your cell is located. They are led by a fat sergeant that each of you know explicitly well: Tomas Blackerly. This man is the captain of the watch and second-in-command of Branderscar. He was the one to personally brand each of you and laughed while he did it. You know from both rumor and experience that he is a corrupt man and while he may not be considered evil by the outside world, he is certainly a dark and unpleasant individual.
((You may make a Sense Motive Check to determine anything special about his voice or personage. However, Feoric *must* go with him.))
"Oi! Feoric Towns! Get up, scumbag!" He barked before turning to the other guards,"Get 'im unshackled. If any one of you prisoners try anything, I'll personally castrate ya and make sure yer walkin' funny fer the remainder o' yer pitiful lives!"
With little effort, the guard removes Feoric's leg chains, though his hands remain bound. Blackerly grimaces as he looks the beady-eyed man over.
"Today's yer lucky day, scum! Ya got yerself a visitor. How some pissant like you ever managed to encounter such a lovely young lady, I'll never know. Seems she wants to say goodbye. Now step lively. We wouldn't want to keep her waiting."
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Posted: Wed Feb 11, 2015 9:35 am
Character Name: Feoric Towns
HP: 8
AC: 15
Status: Normal
Current Location: With the Group
Well this was odd. As his name was shouted out, Feoric stood up. Then unchained but still bound. There was a chance to grasp for keys here but patience was everything. A big ring of keys would be tricky to hide for a long period of time and fo rthis dude not to notice them missing. No, for now he would hold his fingers to himself. "No, obvisouly that would be rude of all of us, gentleman as we are. Shall we be off then?" With quick moves he got ready to follow the guards without a fuss nor to ruffle any of their slow minded feathers. This was new and a chance. better study it first before any rash actions where made.
Skill usage:N/A
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Posted: Wed Feb 11, 2015 2:07 pm
NPC Posting
Feoric is escorted, fairly roughly, out of the cell block and down the hall. Blackerly opens the door to a fairly unremarkable room. The small stone meeting chamber is furnished by nothing more than a shabby wooden table and two stools on either side of it. Though, nobody would remark about the furniture given the appearance of the guest waiting at the other side of the room.
As Blackerly enters the room with Feoric, they are graced with the presence one of the most bedazzling beautiful women any man could ever hope to lay eyes upon. She stands tall to regard them as they come through the door, her silver blonde hair having an almost metallic appearance to it as it shimmered while following the rapid ascent to her feet. Her unearthly green eyes that seem so bright they defy explanation began to become watery as she saw Feoric.
"Oh dearest! I'm so relieved that you're alive," she quickly turns to Sergeant Blackerly, "Could we please have a moment alone, good sir? For pity's sake!"
At that point, Tomas Blackerly paused for a moment and his voice took on a strange tone as he said, "O' course, milady. For you, 'tis not a problem."
With that, the sergeant immediately left the room, shutting the heavy wooden door behind him. Now Feoric and this strange woman sat alone, seated at the little shabby wooden table, staring eye to eye. It was fairly obvious to both parties that this was indeed the first time they had ever met; however, this made the environment no less curious or tense.
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Posted: Fri Feb 13, 2015 8:39 am
Character Name: Feoric Towns
HP: 8
AC: 15
Status: Normal
Current Location: With the Group
Oh the charade, as if the walk had not been rough enough. Here stood a woman that could have turned even him to a straighter path. With some believable words she quickly got the room all alone with him. Feoric would have believed this woman had it not been the first time he'd seen her. "Either you want my life for something I've taken. All of this makes that not needed. Thus you want a private discussion. You have something you want from me. May it be an item that is just within your reach but you're not allowed to take?" His words was chosen and quiet. Even if they where alone in the room who could guess who was listening in and making his own situation worse was not something he planned for.
Skill usage:N/A
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Posted: Fri Feb 13, 2015 2:45 pm
NPC Posting
"What? You mean you don't recognize me, dearest?"
The silver haired woman smirked as she feigned concern and her voice shifted to a more matter-of-fact business-like tone.
"Call me Tiadora. As for your theories as to why I am here, they are humorously enough, not even close to reality. I care nothing for what you've done in the past. You and I have a mutual friend and he is quite intrigued with you and your cellmates. Unfortunately, he refuses to visit you in your current shabby accommodations, so it would seem that you will have to escape to meet with him."
She anticipated the cynical stare she was receiving before it ever happened. She countered with a somewhat mischievous and insidious smile.
"Oh, don't be so dour, Feoric dear. Just because no person has ever escaped Branderscar doesn't mean that you can't be the first."
She stood from her seat and walked towards the wall, leaning suggestively against it, never breaking her gaze with the rogue.
“If you manage that, cross the swamps on the outskirts of town. On the old Moor Road you will see a manor house with a single lantern burning in the second story. There our mutual friend awaits you. *All of you*. That is all I know. Ah yes, and he did want me to give you this.”
She saunters over and removes the intricately detailed and decorative white silken veil she had been wearing, laying it gently into Feoric's hands. Even with no magical training, the rogue can tell that this item is extensively enchanted, perhaps the wizard locked in his cell might be able to tell him more.
"Something to remember me by, dearest," she says with blatantly false tearful sadness before smiling rather deviously.
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