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Malvoisin's Way of the Wicked, Act 1: Knot of Thorns [PFRPG]

Malvoisin

First Post
In the kingdom of Talingarde, many crimes may send you to Branderscar Prison, but the sentence has but one meaning. You are wicked and irredeemable. Each of you received the same greeting when you arrived. You were held down by rough hands and branded upon the arm with a runic F. The mark signifies ‘forsaken’ and the painful scar is indelible proof that each of you has betrayed the great and eternal love of Mitra and his chosen mortal vassals.

Condemned, you face at best a life of shackles and servitude in the nearby salt mines. Others might await the “gentle” ministrations of the inquisitors so that co-conspirators may be revealed and confessions extracted. Perhaps, some of you will be spared this ordeal. Perhaps instead you have come to Branderscar to face the final judgment. In three days, the executioner arrives and the axe falls or the pyre will be lit. Through fire or steel, your crimes will be answered.

You have all been chained together in the same communal cell dressed in nothing but filthy, tattered rags. Manhandled and mistreated, any finery you once possessed is either ruined or long lost. No special treatment has been given any prisoner – male or female, commoner or noble – all of the forsaken are bound and imprisoned together. Your feet are secured by iron cuffs tethered by one long chain. Your arms are secured to the wall above by manacles. A guard is posted right outside the cell day and night. Little thought is given to long term accommodations. At Branderscar, justice comes swift and sure.

Escape seems hopeless. You have all been well searched and every attempt to conceal anything on your person has failed. And if you could somehow slip your bonds and fly out of this prison, where would you go? Who from your former life would want anything to do with the forsaken? Despised, alone and shackled – all that you can do now is await your doom.

For each of you, your old life is over. For each of you, hope is a fading memory. For each of you, justice will be fairly meted. And who can blame fair Talingarde after what each of you has done?


OOC: Let's start with some role-playing; please introduce your characters, including a physical description. Have fun!
 
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Velmont

First Post
Valeria was a fair and lovely woman. She had earn quite a small fortune for a whore because of her body, skills and honeyed words. But that was true a month ago. That will never happen again.

Today she was in this cell. Her body was covered with bruised. The guards had beaten her up more than once to have her obedience. They wanted her body. They had it, but not before she had felt unconscious. She had marks everywhere, some scars on the face and body, a black eye. The skin of her ankle and wrist was burned and bloodied by the ropes and manacle that have been tied in the last day. All of it happen before she was sent down here.

But she didn't care. Most of it could heal with time. She wouldn't have the same innocent beauty she had, but she could be a fair and lovely woman again. But she would never get rid of the scare on her shoulder, a large burned F letter that put her as an outcast of her society. That was more troublesome, but in Valeria mind, it was also the mark that she had been rejected by this unjust society. Somehow, that had confirm herself in her choice.

She look around. She was gagged, her hand behind her back, he feet tied to some other Forsaken. The guards were scared she would use her magic against them. They should, because at least someone was still at her side. She never really knew who or even what it was. All she knew was he was talking to her through Silver, her viper, and in some faint way, directly to her. Silver was not there, but she somehow felt him close. How close? She don't know, but Silver was still looking over her as much as he can.

She still had faith she could escape, that she could get her vengeance, or the entity she had bound herself to would have let her gone. She didn't knew yet how she would get out of here, but she was a clever woman and she knew she would find a way.
 

hafrogman

Adventurer
A half-elven man is chained here with you all. His dark hair is dirty and unkempt, and what once was a close-cut beard has grown out into stubble surrounding his chin and neck. His captivity seems like it has been a short one, melting away any softness he once had, but malnourishment hasn't had time to fully take hold yet.

From discussions that the guards have had over the heads of their prisoners, you may have caught that something special is planned for this man, and that there will be no delays on his way to an excruciating death. No simple execution or imprisonment for him. Although what he could possibly have done to warrant such a speedy and . . . colorful execution you cannot tell. He looks largely unremarkable, average height, build and looks.

But then again, maybe there is something unusual. The guards don't seem to have quite broken him yet, and he seems remarkably driven for a man trapped in a cell, awaiting his death. His gaze remains fixated on the small grate in the door, as if he's watching, waiting for something.

"Three days . . ."
 

Disposable Hero

First Post
Ethan looks around the cell gauging his new surroundings. "Seen one cell I guess you've seen them all." He lets out a slight laugh at his remark. In the dim light his blonde hair can easily be seen along with the several days of growth about his face. His body is that of a man that has had a hard life but holds a strength that waits in hiding for his next victim.

He glances to the man as he spoke. "Three days?" He asks. "Have you given up so easily? Three days is plenty of time to escape these damned walls.Three days is plenty of time to at least take one of these bastards to hell with you."

He looks to the woman near with almost a look of recognition. "Do I know you? I you look vaguly familiar. What is, well I guess it will be was, your previous profession if I may ask?" He continues looking around as awaits her answer.

[sblock=OOC]Sorry if he seems a little friendly for an evil character but I don't want him to come off mean because that's part of his deception.[/sblock]
 

Velmont

First Post
Valeria looks at Ethan and nods as he talk about escaping. As he asks his question to her, still gagged, she replies "frofhihuh" and she open her legs and wink at Ethan so to explain with gesture what she can't clearly speak.

She then suddenly start to struggle against her bounds and gag. After a minute, the ball in her mouth is partially out of her mouth and make a pressure on a bruise on her cheek. "Bhashthard... that pfainfull. I'll bhe gone bhefore three dhays. And fengence whill bhe my nect proffeshion"
 

hafrogman

Adventurer
Anitol turns suddenly as the talkative human's voice booms in the small cell, having almost forgotten there were others in here with him. He quirks one eyebrow at Ethan and echoes the laugh with one of his own.

"Oh, I have not given up, not on anything. I have no doubts my liberation will find me within three days. I wish you luck with your own endeavors."

He lapses into silence as he watches the woman's struggles with clinical disinterest. He briefly considers why Ethan attempted to talk to a person with a gag. Was he merely oblivious? Does he enjoy the petty cruelty of taunting those who cannot respond? Or perhaps it was just an attempt to produce just the contortions the woman was now producing. Pfft. Humans. Little better than animals, rutting among the filth.

He nods silently in acknowledgement of the achievement as the woman frees her gag, but then returns to his vigil of the door.
 

Disposable Hero

First Post
Ethan looks to Valeria with a look of sympathy. He listens to her as she tries to speak through the gag he can now see in her mouth. "My deepest apologies. I didn't realize you had a gag in your mouth." He nods as she opens her legs and gives him a wink. "I understand and vengence is a next step once we find a way out of here." He pulls on his shackles and they whine but hold fast.
 

Insight

Adventurer
Osrin Malekander, tall, of local decent, wears unkempt, shoulder-length hair the shade of night just before the dawn. One could well imagine that it was well-kept at one time, perhaps partially in braids. Now that Osrin no longer has access to the cultural niceties that allowed for such follical design, the assassin's hair hangs like an overused mop from his weary head.

The eyes of this young man, soulless and impenetrable, look around the dank chamber. Occasionally, the assassin instinctively tugs at the chain that binds him. He continues to labor under the assumption that somehow he will escape these bonds and live to fight another day.

All that care to observe see that the quiet, dark-haired youth bears an unusual tattoo, a red star, above his navel. He is otherwise unmarked, save for the "F" that all of the prisoners wear.

"I understand and vengence is a next step once we find a way out of here."

At the word "vengeance", Osrin cocks his head towards Ethan. He smirks, as if knowing something.
 

HolyMan

Thy wounds are healed!
Bound and gagged (mostly do to his raving and not because he could cast a spell or two) Curz hangs limply in the stifling room. His receding hair line shows dark brown, thin hair that matches his thick brown mustache, and although he hasn't been allowed to shave in quiet a while the beard may never grow as thick.

His thin white arms show bruises and burns along with the same branded "F" as marks the other forsaken. His robes are soiled and ragged and he has long since lost his shoes and hope, until...

Hearing the others speak he nods vigorsly at the words, escape and vengeance. He moves his gangly arms as if trying to slip off the manacles that bind him.

OCC: Escape artist?
 

Malvoisin

First Post
Curz gives a tug at his manacles, thinking to assess how difficult they may be escape. However, a sudden commotion from outside the cell halts his efforts. The conversation within the cell dies down with the clatter of keys at the lock. Then the door swings open, and a contingent of six guards, heavily armed and ready for trouble, come into the cell led by a man recognized by each of you: The fat well-dressed sergeant of the watch, Sergeant Tomas Blackerly.



This is the man who held the brand that marked each of your skin, laughing at the searing sound of burning flesh. He seems a bit dazed at the moment as he looks about the dim cell interior.

[sblock=Sense Motive check, DC 25]
From the vacant look in the Sergeant's eyes, it seems evident that he may be under the effect of some kind of enchantment.[/sblock]
He jabs a stubby finger in the direction of Anitol, and says gruffly, "You there! That’s the scum! Get ‘im unshackled. If any of you makes trouble, they’ll earn a thrashing! Today’s your lucky day, scum. You’ve got a visitor. How you ever warranted such a fine lady is beyond me. Seems she wants to say good-bye. Now step lively. We wouldn’t want to keep her waiting.” Two of the guards move forward to roughly unshackle Anitol and escort him from the cell.

[sblock=Anitol]Play it off however you want, but you definitely aren't expecting any visitor.[/sblock]
 

hafrogman

Adventurer
Anitol rises a little unsteadily to his feet assisted, none too gently by the guards. Apparently they aren't in on the act. He spares glance for the sergeant though. Something seems off about him, but Anitol just shakes it off. Perhaps he's nervous? House Barca must have bribed or threatened the officer to aid in Anitol's impending freedom. He turns to face Ethan and the others, flashing a charming smile through the abuse and neglect that otherwise mar his countenance.

"Ah, family. There's nothing else you can rely on quite like blood. Again, I wish you all the best of luck in that little matter we were discussing. Perhaps I'll see you again."

He allows the guards to lead him from the cell then. He wants to whisper a little reassurance to the sergeant, all of this will be for nothing if he gives away the game. But his escort is hovering too close for privacy, and Anitol cannot be sure of who is on his side. He settles for simply nodding at the officer.

"Lead on."

[sblock=ooc]Hope you don't mind, but Anitol IS expecting a visitor. He thinks he's far too important/useful for House Barca to leave languishing here. He may not be right, but in his mind he is.[/sblock]
 
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HolyMan

Thy wounds are healed!
Curz watches the big fat man enter with disdain...then his eyes widen as he notices what's going on. He pulls at his manacles and gives a muffed cry, which only earns him a backhand from one of the guards.

Dazed a little he shakes his head an blinks the stars from in front of his eyes. By the time he is done Anitol is gone.

Slumping once more the tired malnourished man gives out an audible sigh of resign.
 
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Velmont

First Post
Valeria look at the guards. Even without the gag and bounds, she couldn't curse them one by one before they knock her out. So she gently wait and try to stay in her corner in hope to not get noticed. She doesn't want to get this gag back in place. It hurts, but at least, she can more easily breath and speak.
 

Insight

Adventurer
A piercing gaze, like a predator biding its time, watching its prey, is enough for Osrin to let the jailor know that his time is coming to an end.
 

Disposable Hero

First Post
Ethan warchs the guards every move and eyes their equipment. He moves his eyes to look upon Anitol as he speaks and with a nod he replies. "I'm sure everything will fall into place quite nicely and farewell to you." He flashes a smile at the half-elf.
 

Malvoisin

First Post
None too gently, the guards hustle Anitol out of the cell, slamming the door shut behind them with a loud clang.

OOC: I'll try to keep the solo scene with Anitol brief, for the sake of the other players. Meanwhile, do please keep role-playing in the cell so things don't get too quiet. Hopefully, Fangorn will jump in soon as well.


[sblock=Anitol]With no further delay, Anitol is escorted roughly to a meeting room down the hall and shoved into a chair. There waiting for them is a hauntingly beautiful woman in an elegant black dress and soft silken veil. She looks as if she is headed to a funeral. Her hair is so platinum as to almost be white and her eyes are a vibrant almost unearthly green. She clearly has been weeping.



“Oh, dearest,” proclaims the unfamiliar woman. “I’m so relieved you’re alive!” She quickly turns to Tomas. “Could we please have a moment alone, good sir? For pity’s sake?”

Sergeant Blackerly goes blank for a bit but then quickly agrees. “Of course, my lady. For you,’ tis no problem.”

[sblock=Sense Motive DC 15]The odd behavior of the Sergeant makes you suspect that the woman may have some sort of supernatural influence over him.[/sblock]
The guards quickly file from the room at the behest of the Sergeant. As soon as they've all gone, the woman's demeanor immediately changes. She drops any pretense of gried or concern; she is immediately all business.

“Have you forgotten me, dearest?” the unexpected visitor says with a smirk, dropping her pretense of grief. “Call me Tiadora. We possess a mutual friend who would like to meet you and your fellow cell-mates. Unfortunately, our friend is unwilling to visit you in your present rather shabby accommodations so it seems you must escape. Don’t be so dour. Just because it’s never been done before is no reason you can’t be the first.

“If you manage that, cross the moors on the outskirts of town. On the old Moor Road you’ll see a manor house with a single lantern burning in the second story. There our mutual friend waits. That is all I know. He did want me to give you this.”
She takes off her silken veil and wipes away a few fake tears with it.

"Something to remember me by, dearest."[/sblock]
 
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hafrogman

Adventurer
[sblock=Malvoisin]Anitol gives the woman a critical look, trying to figure out what her game is. He takes the veil and gives it a perfunctory glance before meeting the woman's gaze again.

"A friend? You aren't from the House? No matter, I had no intention of dying here. If your friend is an ally of the cause, I'm sure I can arrange to meet him. But what possible use could we have for the rest of the riff-raff sitting in that cell?"

He smirks slightly.

"The good sergeant seems . . . more than willing to aid you in your endeavors. Why don't we simply walk out the door right now, and I'll meet your friend."
[/sblock]
 

Malvoisin

First Post
[sblock=Anitol]
Tiadora laughs coldly at Anitol's questions, sending chills down his spine. "Oh, I'm from a noble house, all right...just not the House of Barca, as I'm sure you're surmised. As for the rest of that 'riff-raff', suffice to say our mutual friend wants to meet all of you. Perhaps they are more capable than you assume, but it's not for me to ask why."

"As for the Sergeant, he may be a gullible fool, but he'd never allow you to simply leave, no matter how persuasive I may be. No, I've helped you all that I can. In fact, I've given you a fine gift...not that you've noticed." The woman's piercing green eyes noticeably glance down at the silken veil in Anitol's hand, inviting him, perhaps, to take a closer look.[/sblock]
 

Fangor the Fierce

First Post
Jaylen had kept quiet. Knowing when to talk and when to shut up was a trait that had to be learned. Some learn the easy way, others, like himself, learn the hard way. He rubs the swollen bruise along his jaw, feeling the swelling showing signs that it has subsided enough to not cause him as much pain to eat and drink the filth that was given here.

He had listened to some of the other prisoners talking, keeping an eye on them. Sometimes you learn more by watching and listening. Then the door had opened, and his eyes focused on the overly plump man. He wished he was free, so that he could cut off the man's fingers, one by one. Yet, something was not right, by the way the man looked around. He could not understand what he was worried about in time for one of the prisoners to be taken away.

His short brown hair is matted against his scalp, filthy from the lack of washing. His green eyes have dark rings around them from the lack of restful sleep. His swollen jaw and bruising along his face show that whatever happened, someone apparently didn't like the way he talked. "In this life or the next, vengeance will be mine..." he mutters, half to himself, half to nobody in particular.
 
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hafrogman

Adventurer
[sblock=Malvoisin]Something about the woman's demeanor sets Anitol's teeth on edge. He had assumed that House Barca would find a way to him so he could rejoin the cause and strike the first blow for the new civil war. But this woman and her "friend" were something else entirely. But if now he had to be the instrument of his own liberation . . . well it was a daunting enough task for just one man. Trying to engineer the jailbreak of a half-dozen criminals, unknown factors at that . . . well, that would take a lot more help than just a safe house after the fact.

He looks down at the crumpled piece of fabric is his hand, and then folds it out and holds it up in between himself and Tiadora.

"This? What is it?"[/sblock]
 

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