Planescape: A Hopeless Beginning

You awake on a cold, hard floor, with a headache and fuzzy memories of a very bad day indeed. The cell in which you lie is cramped and cold, and all around is an unnerving silence broken only by an unchanging, droning hum. The floor is vibrating ever so slightly, and there is a slight sense of motion, as of a ship in calm waters. Somehow these faint sense impressions seem oddly heightened, and even the drab metallic interior of the cell, and the unadorned corridor that can be seen through the bars, seem to press keenly on the senses. There are others here with you, a number of other slumped bodies littering the floor of the cell. Outside is a bored looking ogre guard, leaning idly against the wall with his unsheathed sword hanging loosely from one hand.

The scene is unchanging for some time before gradually a subtle change in the ambient noise becomes apparent. Behind the droning that seems to emanate from beneath the floor is another frequency, a kind of high pitched whistling. It is quiet at first, barely audible, but it grows quickly in volume until even the half-asleep guard seems to notice it with some apparent alarm, looking round in fearful puzzlement for its source. It keeps growing in volume. There are other noises now, thumping from above that sounds like heavy, running footfalls. The ogre turns and begins to lope heavily down the corridor, but before he goes out of sight there is a sickening lurch and he is thrown from his feet. The whistling outside has become a scream, and it continues to rise to a crescendo that drowns out all other noise except for a hideous creaking snap as something structual gives way.

There is another lurch, much more violent than the first, and the shrieking cacophany outside cuts off suddenly. Then there is a last horrifying moment of motion, falling at a horribly uncontrolled speed, and a final jolt. Everything is chaos and pain for a brief moment as you are flung like a rag doll across the cell and then fall through space and land with a crushing thump, and then you find yourself lying on cold, dirty stone. Above you the scene is confusing, but slowly comes to make some kind of sense. You are lying amidst rubble at the bottom of a tall, imposing stone wall that rises for perhaps twenty feet before it is interrupted by the keel of the back half of a ship that appears to be embedded in it. Through a large hole where the hull has split in the bottom - or what is now the bottom, at any rate - can be seen the cell you were lying in just a few moments ago.

A small crowd of rather unavoury looking characters - mostly humans and tieflings - is already gathering rapidly around to stare down at you curiously.

OOC:
[sblock]Okay, let's get this show on the road!

Please roll all dice at Invisible Castle, with your character's name in the 'Name' section.

Have fun![/sblock]

Wyk Woodswalker Bariaur

A form stuggles to his feet. He appears as a well proportioned man, but his lower body is that of a Ram covered in golden hair. Large curved horns protrude from his forehead. He streches and examines himself, appearently satisfied that he is intact. He takes note of the crowd gathering on the wall and gives a jaunty wave. He examines his companions on the ground.

"'Broaden your cultural horizons', they said," mutters the lanky dark-haired man, sitting up from the ground and cradling his head in his hands. "'It's an adventure', they said."

With a groan, he starts running an index finger up any immediately obvious scrapes and scratches, sealing them like a zip, and massaging away the worst of his bruises, leaving unblemished (though still grimy) flesh behind.

"I'm not having fun yet," he complains to himself, not yet sparing much attention to examine his fellow castaways.

OOC:
[sblock]Cure Light Wounds as an at-will spell-like ability.[/sblock]

A dark form stands up behind most of the others, using a piece of rubble to gracefully rise to her feet. She murmurs quietly to herself with a slight smile as she brushes dust and small pieces of wood and stone from her dress; the sharp-eared might catch something that sounds like "...but you'll think that trip to Hell was a vacation when I get back from this one." Despite her words, her tone seems cheery, almost anticipatory.

She straightens and stretches her wings before languidly leaning back on the large wall behind them, surveying her fellow castaways and the surrounding strangers. Green cat’s-eyes gaze out from a perfectly-formed face, with full lips forming a slight smile of amusement. Dark wine-red hair frames her face and body, curls in attractive disarray from the fall. Her leathery wings, currently folded to her back, fade to a dark red shade that matches the small horns that curl up from her forehead, as well as the arrow-shaped barb at the end of her lazily-twitching tail.

Despite being clad in a clinging dress far more suited for a dinner party in Sigil, the succubus seems unperturbed with this turn of events. She smiles brightly, surveying the surrounding crowd. “And... who may I thank for our... rather abrupt rescue?” She gestures upward with a smile.

OOC:[sblock]
Using racial ability of Telepathy to detect thoughts. Looking for the leader of the crowd gathered about; someone in charge in some way. Also trying to determine relative intentions toward myself.[/sblock]

"Quite the... turn of events it seems, eh?"

A short, athletically built, attractive young man pushes a piece of rubble from his abdomen and rises to his feet with a kip-up. He starts to perform an examination of his various limbs and joints, twisting and turning to inspect every area of his outer-body before leaning down from the waist into a deep stretch, then rising with his hands to the sky. He drops his hands loosely to his sides while continuing to gaze upwards, checking out the ship he must have fallen from until he notices all the others above him, watching them all.

"Ehh.... interesting day, all, yes?"

He starts to check around for his various belongings while he scans the others, looking for someone he recognizes before turning to the sound of the woman's voice against the wall.

Krikit - Aranea (Gnome) Sorcerer

Out from behind a pile of splintered wood walks a small man with jet black hair and beard, and sparkling blue eyes. His once fine clothing is grubby and badly torn up. He doesn't seem to have any injuries that would match the beating his clothing has taken, however.
He shakes his head in disgust as he examines the rents in the fine cloth. "Do you know how hard it is to find this sort of thing in my size," he asks of nobody in particular. He bats at his hair and clothes and dust and dirt falls off him in striking quantities, leaving him surprisingly clean.
Surveying the other survivors appraisingly he asks, "Is anyone hurt?"

[OOC: Prestidigitation to clean myself up.]

Wyk

Glancing down at his nakedness Wyk says, "I don't know about the rest of you, but when I was seized I had more gear. I suggest we return to the vessel and set about finding it before that rabble on the wall decides to loot the wreck." Rubbing a bruise he adds, "Besides, someone owes me an apology."

Minala

Rising slowly from the rubble is a small mountain of a woman. Resemeling an elephant in more than one way, the woman is not one you see many of. Shaking herself, she looks around slowly. "Oh. It seems we crashed. I guess it could be a good thing, us being free and all, or what do you say Kandy?" She asks no-one in particular. A few moments goes by before she again speak, only this time in a colder, more cynical way. When last she spoke she sounded like a goodhearted girl, a simple individual. Now she sounds more intelligent, more calculating. "Yes, yes, yes. We're free now. What joy. And how many times do I have to tell you, my name is Kandeen, not Kandy!"


[sblock] Minalas Personality.
Kandeens Personality. [/sblock]

The gnome looks from the enormous female...person, to the succubus, to the ram-centaur and shrugs his tiny shoulders. Approaching the Bariaur he extends a hand. Krikitikalikamok's the name, he says, but you can call me Krikit. Everyone does. He looks up at the wreck of the ship and the crowd gathering and says, I agree with your assessment. I think I could get up there if I'm careful and have a look around. Hopefully I can find a rope or something to let down for the rest of you and we can try to find our things. He gestures at his ragged clothing. I could certainly use a change.

Wyk

Following the elephant woman's conversation Wyk wonders to himself, Is there another unseen member of our group? Bending down, the Ram-Centaur takes the offered hand. "Wyk Woodswalker, a pleasure to meet you Krikit." Nodding at the wreak he adds, "I can boost you up a good bit if I rear up on my back legs."