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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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Revel’s End
End of autumn
Round 0

More prisoners volunteered for the job of helping to unload the ship of the new supplies. When the sixth prisoner volunteered, Kriz shook his head and shoved him back in line. “Prisoner One-Three-Seven!” the dragonborn barked out.

Down at the end of the line, Valrin sighed. He closed a small, ragged book of scraps of paper sewn and bound into an old piece of leather. No doubt this was Voss Anderton’s doing, yet another attempt to have him die in this place. Valrin tucked his charcoal pencil into the binding of the book and put the book away in his pocket. He removed his spectacles and wrapped them in a soft cloth and handed them to the prisoner next to him. “Make sure these get to my cell,” his bass voice rumbled gruffly.

The prisoner swallowed and nodded, going a few shades even paler than a prisoner in a dank winter wasteland already was.

Valrin stepped forward, brushing his long, black hair out of his blue eyes. They stared directly back at Kriv. “Present,” Valrin said quietly.

Valrin Thann Character Sheet
AC 15
HP 41/41
Rage: 3/3/LR, Reckless Attack, Frenzy

The Gray Seagull docks at Revel's End

The sea was rough as the ship came to dock, but with the skills of experienced sailors, they pulled alongside the weathered pier and threw lines to waiting men, who quickly tied them off. It was bitter cold, and the sea-spray and sleet combined to freeze on the dock, making it a dangerous, slick mess. Some prisoners were assigned ice-breakers, (essentially pikes, with the job of breaking up any surface that grew too thick with ice build-up), while others were given hooks (to catch the netting while directing the off-loading of crates using the ship's own spar-crane). A few more were used to operate the lift, by walking in a large wheel that raised and lowered the car up and down the one-hundred and sixty-foot cliff. These prisoners were guarded by (and aided in the tasks) by a mixture of prison guards, ship's sailors, and prison labourers.

Razum was frustrated to find that Captain Halehearty intended for the prisoners to be disembarked last, when he had expected to take them first (and would certainly not have made the trip to the docks in the cold so soon, had he known). So he moved out of the sleet below decks to begin his interviews. (He would have only briefly spoken to them before bringing them up to interview them in the relative warmth of the prison).


Lex was holding what looked like half of rather large skull. Odd plunks and plinks emitted from the skull in what might be called a musical way. "Bah," he said to no one. "Wood makes for a horrible cave." After a few minutes he put the item in his back pack and climbed up onto the deck of the ship. He walked carefully with a staff for balance. "These old bones ain't like they use to be," he against addressed to no one. He looked up at the sky. "Daytime. Bah. Night sky at least looks like you can reach up and touch it. Day sky is unnatural." He continued making these observations as he roamed about the deck, making no haste to go ashore.

Kobold Stew

Last Guy in the Airlock
Doc Halfhand felt the icy blasts on his face, flet his skin withstand the blast, and felt his heart pulse in definace of the elements. His two fingers released the crag he washanging from, as he stood like a bowsprit of the ship that had just docked.

There was supposed to be a new doctor on this one, as there had been on the previous two. They hadn't made it. But if this one had -- made it to shore, and not left when the ship did the next morning -- then perhaps he wouldn't be needed as much here. He'd be able to move on.

Yes, he'd been useful in the kitchen too. No one liked the minimal rations that Doc provided, but it was enough to keep them alive. Maybe the warden would just put him on kitchen duty.

In any case, he decided to go down to meet the ship. By the time he arrived at the bottom of the peak it was mostly unloaded, but he did what he could to help. It occurred to him as he went down, that if this new guy, Lex, should stay, then he wouldn't be "Doc" anymore. Just "Halfhand". Like before.


Revel’s End
End of autumn
Weather: Freezing and wet. Sleet. Rough water and sea spray. Fog
Round 0

Valrin was assigned to the docks. A sledge was already loaded up near the ship, and Valrin was shoved into a harness. He put his shoulders into the padded rope and dragged the sledge the short distance to the lift, then returned for the next sledge. When the lift was full, he was given an ice breaker to keep him busy while they waited. He didn’t mind. Just standing there in the wet and cold would be worse than working up a sweat breaking the ice on the dock. He settled into a steady rhythm as others loaded the next sledge. It was hard work, but mindless, and he used the time to go over the teachings of The Enlightened One and other philosophers he had studied or read their works.

Out of the corner of his eye, Valerian’s attention was caught by another prisoner swinging one of the hooks at the cargo, trying to catch the netting.

“Are you insane, man?” Valrin said, yanking the hook from the prisoner’s hands. “You see that mark? Those are alchemical supplies. You don’t know what’s in there. You could get us all killed if it blows up! Gentle.” Valrin guided the net over to the sledge to be settled carefully.

Valrin settled into the steady rhythm of the labor again. He let his mind go free once more, reciting an epic poem about the royal house of Alagrond, the rulers of Neverwinter. It had a strong rhythm, like a war chant, or work song. Soon others were joining in, making the work pass less monotonously.

Athletics: 1D20+4 = [15]+4 = 19
Arcana: 1D20+3 = [12]+3 = 15
History: 1D20+3 = [15]+3 = 18

Valrin Thann Character Sheet
AC 15
HP 41/41
Rage: 3/3/LR, Reckless Attack, Frenzy


Possibly a Idiot.
Py'Cott was ordered to help unload the crane, and given a hook for the task.

He had hoped to be put below decks, but no prisoner would be that lucky. On the other hand, this could be the ideal set up. The visibility was very low, but even the half-orc could tell that the cargo was damaged. Water had flooded the hold, seeping into crates and barrels, then froze inside, leaving cracks behind from the expansion. Given the hook, the damaged containers, and his orc-blood eyes, he should be able to find an opportunity to pocket something to sate his hunger.

Still, there was a risk of being caught. In that case, it's better to have others come down with you. Burton, his old employer, would make the ideal patsy. The staff already knew that prisoner two-eight-seven was the "mastermind" behind their botched robbery. So all it would take was slipping something into his coat, then presto! Someone to take the heat.

With his plan fleshed out, Py'Cott called "Hey, Two-Eight-Seven! Watch your footing!" Then moved to set it in motion with a pat on the back.

Stealth: 1D20+3 = [18]+3 = 21

Deception: 1D20+2 = [12]+2 = 14

Sleight of Hand: 1D20+1 = [13]+1 = 14
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Lex continued to stumble about the deck for a while as the prisoners settled into the task at hand. It all seemed to be going smoothly, too smoothly. He could taste it on the wind. Some form of mischief was to be expected. But would it be from the prisoners or from whatever lurked beyond the fog. Perhaps it was time to move his charade to the prison proper. Acting the fool was tiresome and the cold wind did not help.

Insight: 1D20+3 = [18]+3 = 21
Perception: 1D20+3 = [14]+3 = 17
Investigation: 1D20+6 = [2]+6 = 8


the magical equivalent to the number zero
Burton grabbed another net with the hook he'd been given. Another hook from another prisoner aided him in getting the crates safely from the crane onto the docks.

"Hey, Two-Eight-Seven! Watch your footing!" he heard a familiar voice shout out through the howling winds and, not aware of any danger, Burton was patted on the back by Py'Cott.

Did he just feel something being slipped into his coat?

Before Burton can react, a guard moves straight for him and yanks the hook out of his hands.

"What are you doing?" he barks into the prisoner's face, despite the lull in the winds.

Trying to stand in such a way that the guard doesn't see whatever was tucked into his clothes, Burton stammers, "Wh-what d'you mean, sir? Your colleague told me to help out here with the hook."

Hopefully the man hasn't seen anything and is just telling him to do whatever dirty job Kriv was reffering to, earlier...

OOC: Athletics: 1D20 = [14] = 14
To get the crates to the dock safely.

Perception: 1D20+3 = [12]+3 = 15
To notice being slipped some of Py'Cott's goods.

Deception: 1D20+1 = [20]+1 = 21
To avoid the guard seeing the goods tucked in his clothes.

Snarf Zagyg

Notorious Liquefactionist

There is a prickly feeling in Razum's abdomen as he awaits the stories of the fresh dokaal; it reminds Razum of hunger, but it is a much more pleasant feeling. While Razum thinks about this, he sees a dour half-man approach him; yes, Captain Halehearty, the source of his frustration.

"Razum," the infuriating half-man shouts, "I need the new prisoners to help unload the ship, or we'll never make it back it out. Help me out, here. Be a friend."

Razum stares, unblinking, at the old and leathery half-man. friendship? perhaps this barter will mean the next time, there will be no wait for the stories.

Razum nods, almost imperceptibly, and accompanies the Captain to the hold. There, he sees the new prisoners. As the Captain announces, "This is Razum, he will be in charge of you," he drinks deeply of their reactions to the strangely dressed lizardman with an assortment of blades. He looks around the hold, carefully observing the cargo and the actions of the prisoners and seeing if anything is amiss or hidden while the prisoners begin doing their work.


Perception: 1D20+7 = [13]+7 = 20
Razum observes the reactions of the prisoners to his arrival.

Insight: 1D20+7 = [5]+7 = 12
Eye for detail: Razum looks for hidden objects or creatures.

Investigation: 1D20+6 = [20]+6 = 26
Eye for detail: Razum looks for clues or anything amiss.


Kobold Stew

Last Guy in the Airlock
Doc Halfhand makes his way down, and arrives at the pier soon after the ship has moored. Already, people are unloading things, and he does his best to assist, using his great strength on the ungainly or dangerous cargo (athletics).

As the passengers disembark, he provides a quick physical, ensuring that they are not diseased or nutrient deprived. each gets a goodberry to tide them over (medicine).

A few, clearly, are scared, and Doc does his best to reassure them (persuasion).

OOC: Three skill checks.
Athletics: 1d20+4=22.
Medicine: 1d20+5=18.
Persuasion 1d20+2=12.

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