Night's Plutonian Shore - Chapter 1: Rats in a Cage [Midnight]

Rogue's Gallery, OOC

Early summer, 99 LA, somewhere in the western part of central Erenland

The slow creak of the wagon wheels is almost hypnotic in quality. If not for the sobbing, screaming, and cries of pain, it could very well put a person in a trance. The five of you – halfling, elfling, orc, gnome, and snow elf – find yourselves stuck in the same cage, a slave caravan bound for Steel Hill. Days blend together and you all find yourselves struggling to recall exactly how much time you have spent in the custody of Izrador’s troops. Has it been days? Weeks? The hazy gray sky obscuring the sun doesn’t make it any easier.

Yesterday, you witnessed the slaughtering of everyone in a small village, perhaps three dozen people. There was nothing that “started it” as far as you could tell. The orcs just started hacking people down with their wicked vardatches. No one was even taken for slavery. Everyone, including children, was brutally killed.

The cage you are in is small and cramped. The putrid stench of piss, sh*t, and blood seems soaked into the wood and your nostrils have not really gotten used to it even after spending so much time mired in it. There are two other people in the cage, as well, as well…

A man with vaguely Sarcosan features has been mumbling and talking to himself throughout the journey. His pale blue eyes never seem to be focused on anything around him as if he gazes at some other world or time. He was already a prisoner before any of you were captured. There is an unsettling air about him beyond his obvious madness. The legate traveling with the slavers seems to have taken an interest in this man. You overheard him say something about an “interrogation” and “…don’t know…where he…from.”

[sblock=Kryt]A few days ago, in the evening, for the briefest moment you swore you saw a look pass across the man’s face. It was a clear-eyed look, one that bespoke of sanity. You blinked and it was gone.[/sblock]

There is also a woman in the cage which at first seemed odd because you have seen no other females in this caravan. Then you overheard two goblins discussing a high-ranking general who has a taste for human women. She is to be turned over to him for his pleasure. It’s not hard to see why she was chosen. Even with her tattered clothing, bruises, and forlorn expression, her beauty is staggering. Blonde hair tumbles down her back and around her face. Sharp brown eyes peer out from beneath long lashes. She has so far avoided talking to anyone in the cage apparently in a deep depression.

[sblock=Sangrin] Last night amongst your dreams, you saw this woman surrounded by a white light in a dark room. She was screaming in pain, but you could not tell from what. You had the distinct impression that she has a very important role to play in Aryth’s future, though what you could not say.[/sblock]

There are three caged wagons in front of your in the caravan. They all seem to be full, about a dozen people in each, mostly human. The wagon trailing yours carries supplies including most of the gear you had when you were captured. There are a dozen goblins, a few orcs, and a legate accompanying the caravan. The legate only joined the caravan within the past week. His face is marred by a thick scar running from the left side of his forehead to the right side of his jaw. He has thick, black hair and deep set eyes. A hawk accompanies him most of the time. The hawk has flown around your cage a few times and seemed to be staring at each one of you.

That morning, the slavers made camp near the edge of the forest that they encountered yesterday on their journey. They pull off the worn path they had been following and start a few small fires. Soon, they bring your regular daily meal, a small wooden bowl of what can only be described as a grey…sludge. One bowl. Everyone in the cage is expected to share it. Or fight for it. Despite the wretched smell, you all feel your stomachs growling.

Craig looks around in the cage, not willing to kill anyone for a bowl of sluge. He will eat better soon, he swears to himself.
[sblock=ooc]Does his head fit through the cage bars? Are there times they open the cage? Anything in the cage to improvise a weapon?[/sblock]

Gunter

And you thought the gnome was small before he was put into this cage. The days of starvation and torment have begun to wear on Gunter's small frame, and you can easily count the ribs in his chest, even through the thin shirt the orcs have left him. Captivity has even begun to wear on his once indomitable spirit, and he hardly smiles anymore.

Gunter sighs as he looks down on the filth the orcs seem to consider food. "Well, looks like we have our ration for the day," he mutters to himself. He quickly looks around the cage, trying to catch everyone's eye. "Are we again agreed to split this evenly? I know it isn't much, but it's all we have." Here his voice drops in tone and volume, "And we have a better chance of getting out of this mess if we all pull together. One weak link and the whole chain breaks, right? Of course," he continues, his long ears perking up as a wry smile plays across his face "I haven't even seen the orcs eat this delectable treat. Perhaps it is too refined for their palates, eh?"

ooc:[sblock]Making Diplomacy check against the NPCs in the cage with us to try to get them to agree with me.

Gunter will have been trying since his imprisonment to find a way out of this, in addition to anything we might be posting in the "present". This breaks down into the following: 1) Trying to make "friends" with one of his captors. This involves frequent Diplomacy checks to see if any of the guards are chatty or gullible. He is fluent in Orcish.
2) Trying to understand how guard shift rotations work and find any holes in their coverage.
3) Trying to gather any objects which might be used to free himself (improvised lock picks, etc.)
4) Trying to palm any objects from guards if the opportunity presents himself. Since this is very dangerous, Gunter would have only done this if an incredible opportunity presented itself (e.g. a guard falls asleep within reach of the cage).[/sblock]

"Best not to be any trouble," Sangrin thinks to himself as he ignores his rumbling stomach.

"I think that's fair." He glances at the larger folks in the cage and again congratulates himself on that wisdom. The orc alone could pummel him into a stain. The best option available is to ignore his hunger and look for an opportunity to escape. Perhaps even back-track to that village these followers of the Shadow wiped out and look for food. Not like the people back there need sustainance anymore. While sitting in the corner of the room he tries not to be otherwise noticeable, and tries to avoid staring again at the woman.

Taellis has been brooding for a week or so. He was much more chatty in the beginning, but that was more calling out to the goblins about thier mothers mating habits. But after more than a few beatings and neither death nor escape finding him he has settled into brooding.

He considered a hunger strike, but it didn't last before he found himself dipping his hand into the sludge to get enough to satisfy him. It wasn't much he was eating light in case he had to run, not like there was much of it in the first place, but he needed to at least keep up his strength for a run. But he would be loath to make a run without his equipment that he still believed was somewhere in this caravan.

Taellis ignored the taste of the sludge and found it within himself to swallow instead of gag. The Sarcosan and the woman made for as interesting a watch as the Orc. Why was he in such a situation? Two weeks ago he would have not hesitated in slitting the creatures throat. But now...now Taellis was wondering what he had to do to get him working with him to break the bars.

"Could be worse." he says as much to stretch his vocal cords as to say anything.

The cage you are in is of shoddy make, typical of orcish production. Iron bars about two inches across completely encircle the wagon, the vertical bars about six inches apart with three horizontal bars spaced roughly evenly apart. There is some rust on the bars. It doesn't appear that anyone, even a gnome or halfling could squeeze through the bars. The cage is approximately seven feet tall from floor to roof. The floor of it is constructed of wood as is the ceiling, but there are also iron bars overhead. A crude door on the back is the only egress, but it has a very large padlock on it. The only time it has been opened has been to put in new prisoners. You have all been stripped of anything that could be used as a weapon and the only thing in the cage is a few bits of straw and excrement.

Gunter tries talking to the goblins and orcs, but hasn't been able to get far. One goblin, Scaalix, has stopped spitting on the gnome when he starts a conversation. He is missing an ear and has taken to telling Gunter about many of the campaigns he has taken part in. Most of his stories seem quite exaggerated (single-handedly killing twenty mounted, Sarcosan knights in one battle?). He has not so far had an opportunity to find anything for creating make-shift tools, nor has an opportunity arisen to pilfer anything. Most traveling is done at night while the goblins and orcs take turns sleeping. There is usually two on watch at all times, but you have noticed that during late afternoon, whoever is on watch often appears drowsy and occasionally dozes off.

[sblock=OOC]Gunter Diplomacy check - 15+11=26[/sblock]

Sangrin remains silent, but continues to observe the patterns of the guards and his companions. He is interested in who the guards might be treating differently than the others, since there is always the possibility that one of the captured people are actually plants. He also checks to see how disciplined and organized the force is, something he has learned is important from his studies on military tactics. Obviously they are sloppy enough to fall half-asleep on guard duty, but are there other signs of sloppiness or internal animosity?

Gunter realizes that with his ... special abilities he has only one chance at freeing himself. He needs to keep close track on who has keys to the cage, since he doesn't think he will be able to free himself from this predicament through brute strength of squeezing through the bars. His only chance is to find the most weak-willed of his jailers and "convince" him to open the cage when no one else is looking, and when the surrounding terrain might provide suitable hiding places. The gnome realizes that not everyone can be trusted, and so he will not share his escape plans with just anyone. But whom can he trust?

Certainly not the orc. Although he has had to deal with their kind all of his life, Gunter has seen too much of their cruelty and deviousness to trust these servants of the Shadow.

Kryt Skullbash : Orc Fighter

Everytime the bowl of sludge arrives, Kryt has a passing thought to take it all. But then he remembers that if he is to escape he will need help. Not allowing others to eat would not endure them to him. So as usual he waits for the others to take their share and grabs his last finishing by licking the bowl clean. Then he returns to his spot and watches the others. Without drawing attention to his actions he tries to keep an eye on the Sarcosan.

At night he tests the bars for weaknesses while the others sleep. He knows that should they reach their destination that things will go much worse for him. He must find a way to escape, even if he has to enlist others in order for it to work.

Craig

The halfling nodds at the waiting orc and says: "Thanks." He takes only a bit before giving him the bowl, knowing that the larger prisoners need more to eat. He has long realised, that he lacks the talents to escape from this cage on his own.