Darkhawk: The Horror Begins

Introduction: Your head reels as you come to your senses inside a dark, dank cell. In the distance, you can hear muffled screams of tortuous pain, but you cannot see very well. It is so dark you can barely see your hand in front of your face. The only light is coming from the doorway where a distant flickering indicates torchlight far down the hall. But if this is a cell, why is the doorway open?

Perhaps this is a dream. No, wait... The pain! You cannot seem to remember how you wound up here, but you have a feeling the agonizing burn in your eyes has something to do with it. Perhaps you inhaled a poison or drank some bad ale. Little matter how it happened, though. You are definitely in a cell somewhere, but you are sure of little else regarding your location other than the putrid smell of stained blood, sweat, and death. There are no windows to speak of, the light is dim, and you still feel groggy, like you had far too much wine last night, although you cannot remember drinking.

Agh! That pain again. If only you had some water to flush out the burn from your eyes, but it appears you have been deprived of all your gear save your clothes. You can feel yourself tearing up, but it does little good to alleviate the irritation. If your eyes are hurting, then maybe your other senses can help you. Listening carefully, you hear what sounds like snoring outside your cell, although it is punctuated by an occassional maddening, distant scream. There is also a soft scratching in the corner, and maybe even a gentle mew or squeak. A rat perhaps? Until you can get better lighting, you can only guess.

Now what's this? You believe you just heard a scuffle right beside you. You are not the only one in this cell! In fact, as your eyes adjust to the light, you see that there are in fact three others in this cell with you. Are they friends or foes? How did they wind up here with you? And where in the Nine Hells are you anyway?

Below is a map of the area you find yourselves in. Unless I tell you otherwise, all maps will be in 5 ft. scale. Note that when I present maps, I will generally use "fog of war" to indicate the extent of your vision. I will often use the best vision type in the party for the purposes of determining vision for the sake of simplicity, but since only one of you currently has low-light vision, bear that in mind. For this encounter, I will remind you that torches shed light to a 20 ft. radius with 20 ft. of poor illumination (20% miss chance) beyond that. Low-light vision doubles these radii. I will only update the maps when absolutely necessary to keep page load times down and, more importantly, to keep my workload manageable.

Mechanics: Each PC is currently prone in the indicated location on the map and sickened. You have no equipment besides the outfit you were wearing. The cell is poor illumination for Balin, and no illumination for all others, however, assume you can see just enough to get your bearings. Presently, you can see only the inside of your cell.

Balin's eyes flash open, and from one second to another, his friendly, round face shows an expression of uttermost anger.

Yet his fury does not control him, and he qietly puts a finger on his mouth, signaling the others to stay quiet.

He'll then slowly try to get to his feet and sneak around the corner.

It doesn't matter to him if he knows any of the people that he found with him. He jsut wants to get out here first.

Indeed Balin does not believe he recognizes anyone in the cell with him. Moving to the doorway and stealthily peering around the corner, he catches a glimpse down the gaol hall. The hall is lined with numerous rusty iron cell doors, a few of them cracked open, but most of them shut. Directly across the hallway is a rat gnawing on what appears to be a finger bone. At the far end of the hallway, Balin notes what is obviously the source of the flickering. A torch is mounted to a wall sconce, casting a dull haze and causing shadows to dance and wave throughout the hall. Beneath the torch lies a human guard, back against the wall slumped on the ground. Near his open palm lies an overturned clay jug. The scent of vomit mixed with grog is palpable. The guard wears leather armor and carries a light mace and light wooden shield.

Does Balin see something that could be used to cut the guard's throat? - Not that Balin usually would think of such brutal methods, but he doesn't want to loose his gambit.

Jonathon props himself on his feet against the wall, trying to shake away the dizzyness fro his sudden stand. "Who.. who are you people?" He croaks out, trying not to cough.

Balin does not see anything of immediate use for throat-slitting. However, if it is your intent, there may be other means of performing a coup de grace.

Kyros, when he realizes others are present in the cell with him, scrabbles to his feet, backing up into the corner he was lying in. He stares fiercely but silently around at the others through the darkness, even as one begins moving toward the door, until another speaks.

The pale man decides to reply as directly as he can, seeing no reason to be evasive about anything, and quietly rasps, "My name is Kyros; I feel as if I've been hit with a sack of cobblestones and have no idea where I am. Are the three of you as confused as I?"

Coming to, Allister blinks his dark eyes heavily, stray torchlight glinting in them. He sits up, running a hand absently though his thick shock of black hair, letting his vision adjust and simply eyeballing the others for a moment. He scratches at the stubble along his jaw. Been here more than a minute, then.

As the others speak, whispering, Allister gets onto his hands and knees and prowls over to the open doorway, raising a finger to his lips at the audible ones. Crouching near Balin, he falls into step with the dwarf(?), padding toward the inebriated guard.

Hide +5, Move Silently +5, and just as a visual aid --
http://www.wizards.com/leaving.asp?...aits/200104_276_7.jpg&origin=dnd_pc_20010424a

Allister's Hide check failed.

As Allister takes up a position near Balin, the rat perks up its ears, turns its head so it can see Allister, then grabs the finger bone and quickly scampers into a crack in the wall. However, it does not seem like anything else was disturbed. Allister can now see the drunken guard as well as Balin. He is clearly unconscious, probably in an inebriated sleep judging by the tipped jug lying near him.

Incidentally, since I had everyone send me their characters privately, it would help to give the others a physical description of yourself (at least as well as the present lighting allows).

Allister, while relatively young, appears aged well beyond his years. Dark and tired blue eyes gaze out from beneath dark brows, his normally close cropped beard grown out marginally, salt and pepper. His skin is pale, but the consistancy of leather, his hands polished wood. Thick black hair hangs past his shoulders, matted from the recent incarceration, normal dress of gray tunic and dark trousers is dirty, torn, with their matching black boots gone, Allister's feet a callused and flithy mess.

Poised on the balls of said feet, Allister creeps toward the unconcious gaoler, flicking his glance to the left and right as more open doorways are passed. The long fingers of one hand drag along the passage in search of some sizable chunk of rock or mortar while the fingers of the other give Balin a quick forward motion, Doubtful he knows any military sign, may be that he's a bright lad, may be he'll get it.

Shaking his head slightly at the sluggishness in his head, already disappointed in his lapse in obfuscation -- The rat sure did.