Blizzard at Revel's End (IC)


Chat Thread (OOC)
Rogues Gallery (RG)

GM: Blizard at Revel's End Prelude: The Not-So-Calm Before the Storm

The Gray Seagull in the Sea of Moving Ice

The last supply ship of the season was late. Delay after delay had beset the Gray Seagull as it had worked its way up the Sword Coast, gathering prisoners, passengers, and supplies for the prison known as Revel's End. The voyage had been terrible for the crew of 'Old Gracie' (as they called her) - three men had gone overboard in a squall and were lost. The ship had struck a berg in the Sea of Moving Ice and was taking on water - the pump had to be manned day and night. Captain Halehearty, a middle-aged stout halfing, had not seen so much ill luck in his whole life, and it had put him in a terrible mood. He shouted at his crew constantly and had far too little sleep. He was mortified at the thought that they might not reach the prison in time to make the return trip before the winter winds made it too dangerous, and they would have to stay at the prison for two months or more. He shuddered at the thought.

Aft of the hold, in a secure compartment, were eight prisoners. Their journey had been a terrible thing; poor ventilation, small space, no privacy. The ship had leaked before, but since the iceberg struck, the compartment's floor sloshed with icy seawater. They could not lie down, and the best they could do to sleep was to lean on each-other and the slope of the hull while standing. If the ship changed tack, they would stumble to the opposite wall, crushing whichever man wound up at the bottom of the pile.

OOC: Here is where we find @Steve Gorak Thorbin and @VLAD the Destroyer Jathlin, and six NPC prisoners.

One deck above them, in cramped, but otherwise relatively passable quarters, were four passengers - all of whom quite intimidated the ship's crew. Boarded in Baldur's Gate was a sly-looking half-elf man named Staylar, (rumoured to be the prison's replacement doctor, the previous having mysteriously disappeared while taking a daily walk by the cliffs) and his two assistants, Fogg and Drumm: mute firbolg twins, who had to nearly crawl to move about the ship and barely fit into their quarters. The last passenger was a deep gnome, picked up in Neverwinter, and said to be travelling to speak to the Warden on a personal matter.

OOC: That would be @jmucchiello Lex and three NPC newly-arrived staff.

Finally, after far too long at sea, the cliffs of Icewind Dale hove into the view of the lookout through the fog and driving sleet. Not long after, the prison itself: perched on a high cliff overlooking the Sea of Moving Ice was a bleak stone fortress carved out of a gigantic, blade-shaped rock. A central tower loomed above the rest of the fortress, and light leaked from its arrow slits. Four smaller towers rose from the outermost corners of the fortress, and guards could be seen atop them, huddled together and wearing greatcloaks. At the base of the cliff was a lonely pier with a weathered dock. Above the pier, a sturdy wooden scaffold clung to the cliff's face. Above that, loomed a large wooden crane that would raise and lower an elevator car with a retractable wooden gate.

OOC: I will return and introduce those who are already at the prison. If I've introduced you, you are free to do some RP posts. Go ahead and talk to NPCs if you like. You can make up anyone I haven't named. or leave it to me as you prefer.

Revel's End.jpg
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"Never liked traveling by sea," Lex says to himself as he is packing his luggage. "Though this cool crisp air reminds me of home. There's too much wind though."

There is a knock at the door. "Sir?" "Come in." "Sir, we're docking soon. If you have anything you need unloaded."

"Have you seen my hat?" Lex asks, his hat securely perched on his head. "I can't find my hat." His voice is gravely as if worn down by use over a long lifetime.

"It's on your--"

"What?" Lex says getting very close to the man. "Can't hear you."

"It's on your head," the man says much louder.

"Oh," Lex touches the brim that must be visible to him. "So it is. Thanks, lad. What can I do for you?"

"I'm here for your luggage," the man says loudly.

"Oh good. That one is all I have," Lex says, nodding. "Off you go."



The sailor took his relatively small bag and Lex moved forward on the lower deck, heading for the stairs, he came upon Fogg and Drumm, carefully stacking large chests ready to be unloaded. It appeared that their master, Staylar, had brought enough personal supplies to outfit a small army. Lex was aware that this gentleman was to be the prison's doctor, but not much else about them. They had only exchanged a few words since the gnome had boarded in Neverwinter, and Lex was not part of the main prison staff. In fact, he was to have his own, unique position as the warden's personal aide.

Lex had yet to meet Warden Marthannis, but he was eager to. They had exchanged letters, and he was here to investigate her unusual problem: Lodged inside her is the spirit of a deceased shield dwarf fighter named Vlax Brawnanvil. According to her letters, the spirit of Vlax takes control of her body from time to time for an hour or two (increasing in frequency and duration). While under its control, she speaks only Dwarvish, and occasionally indulges Vlax’s vice for ale and spirits. She has been finding this affliction increasingly hard to conceal. Lex is charged with finding a solution to the problem (and has been asked to help her to conceal it).


Revel's End Maximum Isolation Prison on the Western Cliffs of Icewind Dale

The prison was low on supplies, and it was a great relief to the staff and prisoners alike when word passed through that the supply ship had been spotted. A few years back, a supply ship had never arrived at all, and some of the prisoners had not survived the long winter that followed. As was tradition, Warden Marthannis put the word out for volunteers among the prisoners, to help offload the stores and to operate the lift. This task was a mixed blessing - it was hard labour in terrible conditions - but it was a small taste of freedom. In addition the prisoners were expected to be on their best behaviour. The consequences of misbehavior were severe. For that matter, there was nowhere to run, so any thoughts of using it as an opportunity to escape were entirely foolish, to say the least.

On the warden's behalf, the dragonborn councillor known as Kriv stood before the twenty-eight prisoners gathered in the yard. He wore a stern expression on his silvery, dragon-like face, as he demanded that volunteers step forward and swear not to cause trouble. Two men glanced at each other and nodded, stepping forward. Then another was shoved by someone unseen, but he dared not step back.

OOC: I recommend that @Leatherhead Py'Cott, @JustinCase Burton, and @KahlessNestor Valrin join the three NPC volunteers. (It will be easier on me to work them in to the following scene. If you don't want to, that's fine, I'll come up with something!)

Doc Halfhand stood on the peak of the Windbreak - the tall, blade-shaped rock that rose over the prison's northern side. The rock protected the prison from the icy northerly winds. A weaker man could not stand where Doc Halfhand did, but he was a goliath. The wind, sleet, and cold bothered him far less than it would most other, smaller types. He had just arrived for the season and it was his habit to have a good, long look at the prison from above before heading down to announce his arrival. From where he was, he could see out over the sea as well, and he saw that the supply ship was arriving. He knew well what busy work would soon follow.

OOC: That would be @Kobold Stew Doc Halfhand. Might want to go help, or at least make sure the workers survive.

Razim the Inquisitor was excited by the news of the supply ship. Unlike everyone else at the prison, it was not because of the food stores, or the other supplies. No, he was happy to eat the prison's rats. The thing that excited him was the stories. It was his job to interview the new prisoners. To learn as much as he could about them, and to make suggestions to the warden of what to expect from them - how they might effect the prisoner hierarchy, and what trouble to expect. It was also his job to teach the prisoners how to behave in their new situation. In short, he was expected to break them - but this was not Razim's way. Razim just liked to hear their stories. He particularly liked their lies.

OOC: Last but not least, we have @Snarf Zagyg lizardfolk Razim.

The newly arrived prisoners would not be expected to be part of unloading the supplies. They could not be trusted yet. While sailor, volunteer prisoner, and prison guards made order from chaos, Razim would work his way through and take charge of the new arrivals.

OOC: Okay, like with the first post, feel free to do an RP post or two. Don't jump too far ahead, though, the ship is still on its way into dock.


the magical equivalent to the number zero
Burton Cragsmere, a noble from Waterdeep once but now just another prisoner at Revel's End, steps forward from the line of inmates.

"Pris'ner two-eight-seven, volunteerin'," he offers with a passable Waterdhavian streetrat accent despite his impeccably upright posture. The numbers and the uniformly well-worn outfits cannot hide the fact that Burton has had a fine upbringing, and most of the other prisoners must know it. Some have even tried to confront him, seeking to find some sort of influence of his perceived wealth.

But Burton would serve several more years at the prison before he can even think about money. Money his family has withheld from him even before his arrest.

Some work outside, though hard, would be a refreshing change. Maybe, if he works hard enough, he would even be offered some sort of minor reward by the staff.

Heh, he mocks himself inwardly. As if you've ever worked hard in your life.

OOC: Edit: Fixed a mistake with the prisoner number.
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Possibly a Idiot.
Py'Cott snorted though the stoic stare on his face.

He hated the cold. When his breath steamed against the frigid air, it would cling to his tusks in the form of ice.

But even more than that, he hated the watered-down stew. The cookstaff had cut corners on meals, "Just a precaution in case the supply ship comes late" They said. "We don't want a repeat of the 'Winter of Bones'." Bah.

The half-orc was sure Kriv was behind the rationing. The frozen night would make you dead numb, but an empty belly would make you suffer. And while Kriv might have his hands tied with what he was allowed to do with some of the prisoners (a noble is still a noble, after all), it was far too "convenient" a situation to be discounted as just coincidence.

Still, the ship was a welcome sight. Perhaps even, a welcome opportunity. While escape wasn't possible, maybe he could sneak a snack.

The Red Ghost, as he liked to call himself, cocked his head when he heard a familiar voice offer up their services.

"Two Eighty-Five," he barked with a step forward "I could use the exercise."


the magical equivalent to the number zero
Burton is startled to hear Py'Cott volunteer himself, too. He suppresses the urge to look at his half-orc accomplice and intends not to show any feelings on the matter.

It has been a long time since they last spoke. Burton is sure the half-orc holds him responsible, and having a confrontation under the eyes of the prison staff would be.. reckless. And Burton knows that 'The Red Ghost' is never reckless.

Or is he?

"Yes sir," Burton blurts out when Counsillor Kriv asks him something -- although he completely missed what the question was, being so caught up in his mental worries.

Kriv seems to smile cruelly at his confirmation -- at least, Burton thinks it's a smile. Dragonborn expressions are notoriously hard to read, but Burton fears he has just agreed to a very dirty task indeed...

Snarf Zagyg

Notorious Liquefactionist

Razum places numerous furs upon himself. The cold that bites him does not overcome his need to see the dokaal arrive; Razum is well-served by seeing the reactions of the arrivals as they first see their destination.

Jathlin anticipated the ships tack and shifted position so he wasn't crushed by the others in the cell. He still mumbled curses under his breath as the icy water sloshed over his feet. He cursed the ships captain for the hundredth time. Between the squall and hitting something it was apparent he was incompetent. From the muffled sounds filtering down from the deck it seemed that they had finally arrived at their destination.

Jathlin closes his eyes and offers up a quick prayer to Valkur to give him strength. His mouth had already earned him a yellowing bruise around his left eye and he did not want to add a matching one to his right. Jathlin waits for the guards to collect him and the other new prisoners and take them to processing. He had heard stories of Revel's End and none of them good but at the moment anything would be better then freezing his feet off in this gods forsaken hold.
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Steve Gorak

Thorbin awaited patiently. He knew his time would come, and he had faith that the gods did not intend for him to rot in a cell. He observed the other prisoners, looking for a acknowledgement, a nod, or any hint that he may find a future ally. It was cold, but he forced himself to let the fire of his anger, his rage against the nobles warm him, keep him alert for any opportunity for him to seize.
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