Blizzard at Revel's End (IC)

Steve Gorak

Adventurer
Thorbin
The guard took the pike from Thorbin with a look of relief. As the new prisoners were led into the prison for the first time, Thorbin found himself next to the guard who had survived the battle on the main deck, next to the ship's mate. The guard spoke into his ear from over his shoulder, "You've made a friend here, mate. If you need anything, you just ask me. Name's Allard.
Thorbin nods solemnly. He whispers back. “The name’s Thorbin, brother. One day, we’ll talk about the fight over some ale as men should.”

 

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JustinCase

the magical equivalent to the number zero
A comb.

Curiously Burton holds it up for inspection, placing himself between the odd object and the entrance to his cell. He does not want the guards to see, but at the same time prisoner 287 wonders why Py'Cott planted this on him.

Does he look that bad? Sure, Burton has not spent as much time on his appearance lately, but one can only do so much without the luxuries of home. Maybe the half-orc thought it the most upsetting thing for him, to be without a proper comb and therefore, as a sort of peace offering, gave Burton this?

Using it on his hair, he does indeed enjoy the feeling of a wellmade comb through his hair once more. No more old worn makeshift things, but the real thing.

He sighs.

"Guess I'll have to pay him back somehow," he mutters to himself.
 

Leatherhead

Possibly a Idiot.
It had been a better day than Py'Cott had planned for. Red Ghost got to stretch his legs (so to speak), and the fighter got to sink a real weapon into flesh. But sitting in his hands was the catch of the day. A marvelous trophy, the half-orc couldn't read the runes, but he saw the raw power that the shell could unleash.

Not here though, or at least not now. The same anti-magic that kept Red Ghost tied up would hinder the shell. Best thing would be to keep it secret, hidden, and safe from prying eyes till the day it could be used.

Py'Cott stuffed his prize under his already too-thin mattress. If he was lucky, it might even off-set a lump to make the bed more comfortable.
 

Steve Gorak

Adventurer
OOC: happy new year y'all!


As Thorbin walks in the prison, part of him regrets handing the pike over to the guard maybe it would have been better to die in glorious battle he thinks to himself. and again, these poor bastards are simply doing their jobs, and the gods have a plan for me he muses, as he tries to look for items that could potentially be used as weapons.
 

Kobold Stew

Last Guy in the Airlock
Supporter
Doc Halfhand finishes his conversation with Captain Halehearty, and when the ship is empty, riding higher than it had been when it had been moored, he leaves him and returns to the prison. Halehearty chooses to stay with his ship. "Are you sure?" asks Doc. "You're not concerned about another attack?" But for now the captain stays.

And so it is only Doc and the lift operator as he begins the slow ascent to the prison. The light is drawn from a low winter sun, and seems to catch on where the giant crab's pincers had pressed into the soft stone, immediately above where its corpse can still be seen below.

When he gets to the prison, Doc checks in. Security seems tight, but he is a known face, and he can trust he'll be given a meal if he asks for one. With the new faces, he has nothing to do and doesn't want to be in the way. He'll eat, introduce himself to the new doctor (whose presence will reduce the need for him at the prison), and touch base with the warden.

He ensures the warden has a means of contacting him (he's used skywriting in the past, but Doc doesn't see the wizard who knew that spell, and perhaps he is no longer on staff) in case emergency food is required. After that, he will plan to return to the tundra, so that he can check his trapline.

[any of this of course might be interrupted at any time]
 

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