James Heard
Explorer
Dragen watches everything with a disinterested eye while making a rough breakfast. Clearly, the magecraft and protections of his companions are not a high priority for him.
The Game of Kings
MadMaxim
First Post
"I'll join as a "prisoner" as well. After all, I was one of people who fought last night and would probably have been recognized by some of the Prince's other men." Partash puts his mace in his backpack and straps it to his back. Then he turns around to ask the bugbear: "I was wondering, where do you keep the prisoners' equipment?"
stonegod
Spawn of Khyber/LEB Judge
Vhir nods to the girl wizard to begin her invisibility charm; it seems eager to begin this stage of the mission. As for Dragen... if he stayed behind to snipe from a distance, that would be useful. And if he came along as a 'prisoner', well, more bodies to be shields.
Ringmereth
First Post
So, first Dark and I were busy, then we were in Italy. All apologies for completely slacking off here. With that said, we're back in business, new and improved, with way more time on our hands.
On with the game---I'm speeding it ahead a little here.
Spells are cast and weapons stowed as the team makes their last preparations. Vhir and Carver, most conspicuous among their companions, vanish with a few mystical words. Morika, her face savager than before, elects to play the traitor.
Priest, wizard, and spy all slip their weapons out of sight to act as prisoners. "Maybe yeh should tie yerselves. We ain't trustin' crim'nals to be nice when w' bring 'em to th' jail," the bugbear observes, gesturing casually to the rope he was bound with the previous night. "Ah can do it so it ain' trouble t' slip out." Reassured by Doral's faith in the charm, the three allow their prisoner to bind them. The knots, while thick, take only seconds to break free from.
Boredom on his face, Dragen watches the preparations as he chews methodically at his breakfast. Uninterested in giving up his bow, the archer announces that he will trail the group from a short distance.
Finished at last, the party waits for the street to clear, then hurries out of the building. The bugbear, one of his swords in hand, motions for the brutish shifter to lead the captives forward as he walks behind them. Invisibly, Vhir and Carver trail the five as quietly as they can manage, while the archer nonchalantly strides out of the abandoned shop and follows with lazy footsteps. His bow, wrapped in cloth, appears to the casual observer an ordinary, nondescript bundle. Above the procession, Cloudchaser swoops in broad arcs, uncaged by the wizard shortly before the group's exit.
The scattered crowds that bustle about Port Verge's streets make way for the procession without question. No one dares rest their eyes too long on the menacing bugbear, though the prisoners attract many long stares. Behind them, the kobold and warforged desperately scramble through openings in the crowds, barely missing the bodies of oblivious townsfolk and travelers going about their business.
Turning a corner, the bugbear points to a grim grey building. "There," he snarls. Two guards flank the barracks' door; one, hefting a spear, strides forward. "Thesh, we been wond'rin where th' hell ye gone! Rest o' yer men's dead, an' no word from ye!--an' who in Khyber's that?" The sentry, clad in chain and badly scarred on the cheek, points suspiciously to Morika.
"She--she ain' one ah them," the bugbear stumbles. "Turned on 'em, gave 'em up. We caught 'ese 'uns in th' night, all sleepin'." He makes for the door. "Don' stand there, addle-brain! Get 'em in 'ere." The guard shrugs and beckons his partner; they haul the bound trio into the barracks without complaint.
The room, lit by torches, is 40 feet long and half as wide. Double bunks line the right wall, and a long table is placed opposite them. Six soldiers lounge on benches next to it, idly gambling away coppers at a dice game. On the far end of the room, a barred door seperates the living quarters from prison cells. Left of it is a crude kitchen with oven, cupboards, and a table strewn with scraps of a meal. The 'prisoners' glance around the room, preparing to make their move, as one of the gamblers rises and approaches them, a cruel grin on his face.
On with the game---I'm speeding it ahead a little here.
Spells are cast and weapons stowed as the team makes their last preparations. Vhir and Carver, most conspicuous among their companions, vanish with a few mystical words. Morika, her face savager than before, elects to play the traitor.
Priest, wizard, and spy all slip their weapons out of sight to act as prisoners. "Maybe yeh should tie yerselves. We ain't trustin' crim'nals to be nice when w' bring 'em to th' jail," the bugbear observes, gesturing casually to the rope he was bound with the previous night. "Ah can do it so it ain' trouble t' slip out." Reassured by Doral's faith in the charm, the three allow their prisoner to bind them. The knots, while thick, take only seconds to break free from.
Boredom on his face, Dragen watches the preparations as he chews methodically at his breakfast. Uninterested in giving up his bow, the archer announces that he will trail the group from a short distance.
Finished at last, the party waits for the street to clear, then hurries out of the building. The bugbear, one of his swords in hand, motions for the brutish shifter to lead the captives forward as he walks behind them. Invisibly, Vhir and Carver trail the five as quietly as they can manage, while the archer nonchalantly strides out of the abandoned shop and follows with lazy footsteps. His bow, wrapped in cloth, appears to the casual observer an ordinary, nondescript bundle. Above the procession, Cloudchaser swoops in broad arcs, uncaged by the wizard shortly before the group's exit.
The scattered crowds that bustle about Port Verge's streets make way for the procession without question. No one dares rest their eyes too long on the menacing bugbear, though the prisoners attract many long stares. Behind them, the kobold and warforged desperately scramble through openings in the crowds, barely missing the bodies of oblivious townsfolk and travelers going about their business.
Turning a corner, the bugbear points to a grim grey building. "There," he snarls. Two guards flank the barracks' door; one, hefting a spear, strides forward. "Thesh, we been wond'rin where th' hell ye gone! Rest o' yer men's dead, an' no word from ye!--an' who in Khyber's that?" The sentry, clad in chain and badly scarred on the cheek, points suspiciously to Morika.
"She--she ain' one ah them," the bugbear stumbles. "Turned on 'em, gave 'em up. We caught 'ese 'uns in th' night, all sleepin'." He makes for the door. "Don' stand there, addle-brain! Get 'em in 'ere." The guard shrugs and beckons his partner; they haul the bound trio into the barracks without complaint.
The room, lit by torches, is 40 feet long and half as wide. Double bunks line the right wall, and a long table is placed opposite them. Six soldiers lounge on benches next to it, idly gambling away coppers at a dice game. On the far end of the room, a barred door seperates the living quarters from prison cells. Left of it is a crude kitchen with oven, cupboards, and a table strewn with scraps of a meal. The 'prisoners' glance around the room, preparing to make their move, as one of the gamblers rises and approaches them, a cruel grin on his face.
Ringmereth
First Post
For improved clarity in potential combat situations, we're trying out maps. Crude, yes, but we're all on the same page with regard to the basic layout of things. If anyone knows of better utilities for this sort of thing, please let me know.
Anyway, the dots represent you (matching your text color), the bugbear (brown), and the guards (red).
Anyway, the dots represent you (matching your text color), the bugbear (brown), and the guards (red).
MadMaxim
First Post
Partash casually looks around the room to count the number of guards while trying to avoid their attention. Eight guards in total so far... I wonder if we can overpower them if a fight breaks out for whatever reason. Now, I just hope Doral's charm is powerful enough to keep the bugbear on our side, because otherwise we're in an immense amount of trouble.
OOC: Good to see you back again, Ringmereth. It's not like you aren't allowed to take some time off. I was just wondering if you'd give us an update on your situation, just so I didn't have to check the game everyday to avoid something passing me by.
OOC: Good to see you back again, Ringmereth. It's not like you aren't allowed to take some time off. I was just wondering if you'd give us an update on your situation, just so I didn't have to check the game everyday to avoid something passing me by.
stonegod
Spawn of Khyber/LEB Judge
A small shape ghosts amongst the living, a smirk on its unseen face. Anonymity had its privilege, and as long as his "fellows" made no mistakes, things would proceed smoothly.
OOC: Take 10 on Move Silent (13). If the door to the barracks is open and unblocked, try to squeeze in.
OOC: Take 10 on Move Silent (13). If the door to the barracks is open and unblocked, try to squeeze in.
Deuce Traveler
Adventurer
Doral hangs his head low and tries to look non-threatening and defeated, while dwelling on how well he could get loose and use a whelm spell, if needed. Great... a grown-up bully. Looks like I've got to be ready to receive some pain. Unless his life, his possessions, or those of his comrades are threatened the half-elf intends to continue his charade.
Dark_Jackalope
First Post
Vhir crossed the stony street, walking directly towards the unshaven guard outside the door. Yet Glasia’s magic served him well, and the man noticed nothing. The kobold stepped over the wooden threshold into the barracks, careful not to touch the door, and found himself standing immediately at the other door guard’s right hand. In front of him was Partash, quietly absorbing his surroundings. Vhir did the same, trying to move out of arm’s reach of the guard should he move his arm.
The man from the gambling table pulled up to the group, planting his heavy boots firmly apart on the wooden floor. “Capt’n,” the bugbear nodded. Shooting a sidelong smirk at him, he turned to silently survey the group with a faint self-satisfied sneer, arms crossed. His eyes were a sharp green-grey, and his hair a nondescript dark brown in a thick bristling shock. His whole figure seemed harp and slightly exaggerated; an observant eye would see that under his rough-hewn act he was actually a vain man.
“So you’re th’ Blacksurf lot, ehh? Yeh don’t look like much to me. Two scrappy boys, they send me? And a little girl… pretty little girl.” Arms still crossed, he ducked his head down slightly to try and catch Glasia’s downcast eyes, a jaunty smile on his roughly shaven face. If he did not look so cruel and predatorial, he could have been handsome.
But Glasia did not respond, and the guard’s attention shifted to Morika, who was keeping to the back of the group. He dropped on hand to his side and brought the other up to hold his chin in thought, and crossed through the group towards her. “And you came with them? Yeh look more like what I’d expect from th’ Blacksurfs. I can see why you abandon’d this sorry crew. But could I trust ye’ to join us here?” He looked back at the bugbear expecting an answer.
“She’s th’ one who tol’ us where these were. We had to kill th’other ones in ah fight; they were tougher, but she led us tah these sleepin’ in their beds like childr’n,” the bugbear supplied matter-of-factly.
In a terse tone, as if familiar with the bugbear’s usual intellectual capacity, the man said to him, “And did it not occur to you it could be a trick, lieutenant? They are spies, after all. The purpose ah’ spies, lieutenant, is to infiltrate.” The bugbear looked at the ground, and the man gave a short laugh to reinforce the elementary obviousness of his statement
He turned his head to the shifter again, his green-grey eyes stared unblinking into her own for a moment, the smirk still not gone from his face. Morika smiled back, revealing her abnormally sharp teeth. Surprisingly, the man broke out in a genuine grin, apparently pleased with what he saw. “You, I’ll give you a benefit of th’ doubt. I want yuh’ to help me… I need to extract all the useful inf’rmation from your former colleagues before I rid m’self of them. I thought I might give you the honor of extraction.”
He paused to appraise the trio a last time. “Not the girl though.” He extended his muscled arm and ran his broad and well-trimmed fingernails through Glasia’s hair, that small self-satisfied smile never leaving his face. “We’ll keep her.”
As if this had been some prearranged cue, the guards at the table got up, one crossing towards the door to the room with the holding cells, the others heading towards the group. The guard by the inside of the door swung his arm out and pulled the wooden door shut, though Vhir heard no lock click into place. Out in the morning sunlight, the other guard casually stepped in front of the portal and clasped his hands behind his back, shutting away the dark proceedings within from the innocent summer day.
[sblock="Situation Map"]Note: I've placed a little black X on the Captain's dot.
[/sblock]
The man from the gambling table pulled up to the group, planting his heavy boots firmly apart on the wooden floor. “Capt’n,” the bugbear nodded. Shooting a sidelong smirk at him, he turned to silently survey the group with a faint self-satisfied sneer, arms crossed. His eyes were a sharp green-grey, and his hair a nondescript dark brown in a thick bristling shock. His whole figure seemed harp and slightly exaggerated; an observant eye would see that under his rough-hewn act he was actually a vain man.
“So you’re th’ Blacksurf lot, ehh? Yeh don’t look like much to me. Two scrappy boys, they send me? And a little girl… pretty little girl.” Arms still crossed, he ducked his head down slightly to try and catch Glasia’s downcast eyes, a jaunty smile on his roughly shaven face. If he did not look so cruel and predatorial, he could have been handsome.
But Glasia did not respond, and the guard’s attention shifted to Morika, who was keeping to the back of the group. He dropped on hand to his side and brought the other up to hold his chin in thought, and crossed through the group towards her. “And you came with them? Yeh look more like what I’d expect from th’ Blacksurfs. I can see why you abandon’d this sorry crew. But could I trust ye’ to join us here?” He looked back at the bugbear expecting an answer.
“She’s th’ one who tol’ us where these were. We had to kill th’other ones in ah fight; they were tougher, but she led us tah these sleepin’ in their beds like childr’n,” the bugbear supplied matter-of-factly.
In a terse tone, as if familiar with the bugbear’s usual intellectual capacity, the man said to him, “And did it not occur to you it could be a trick, lieutenant? They are spies, after all. The purpose ah’ spies, lieutenant, is to infiltrate.” The bugbear looked at the ground, and the man gave a short laugh to reinforce the elementary obviousness of his statement
He turned his head to the shifter again, his green-grey eyes stared unblinking into her own for a moment, the smirk still not gone from his face. Morika smiled back, revealing her abnormally sharp teeth. Surprisingly, the man broke out in a genuine grin, apparently pleased with what he saw. “You, I’ll give you a benefit of th’ doubt. I want yuh’ to help me… I need to extract all the useful inf’rmation from your former colleagues before I rid m’self of them. I thought I might give you the honor of extraction.”
He paused to appraise the trio a last time. “Not the girl though.” He extended his muscled arm and ran his broad and well-trimmed fingernails through Glasia’s hair, that small self-satisfied smile never leaving his face. “We’ll keep her.”
As if this had been some prearranged cue, the guards at the table got up, one crossing towards the door to the room with the holding cells, the others heading towards the group. The guard by the inside of the door swung his arm out and pulled the wooden door shut, though Vhir heard no lock click into place. Out in the morning sunlight, the other guard casually stepped in front of the portal and clasped his hands behind his back, shutting away the dark proceedings within from the innocent summer day.
[sblock="Situation Map"]Note: I've placed a little black X on the Captain's dot.
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Deuce Traveler
Adventurer
Doral sighs as he realizes that Glasia lacks the training to handle this ordeal properly. The girl was liable to get hurt, or worse. The mission comes first. The thought reaches his mind, but then he knows she has too much information. She would break quickly, and their mission would be just as jeopardized, but with the party weakened by one and enemies at the ready to their rear. That's how he explains his protective actions to himself, anyway, in the future moments he had to reflect.
"Well, we tried to do this the nice way." Breaking loose, he casts sleep at the group of men by the far table.
Watching the bugbear carefully, Doral adds slickly, "These men don't seem to like very you much."
OOC: If those two colored dots outside the door aren't allies that can take out the man outside, Doral will open the door and cast whelm at the man outside instead.
"Well, we tried to do this the nice way." Breaking loose, he casts sleep at the group of men by the far table.
Watching the bugbear carefully, Doral adds slickly, "These men don't seem to like very you much."
OOC: If those two colored dots outside the door aren't allies that can take out the man outside, Doral will open the door and cast whelm at the man outside instead.