Metropolis (The World in Waiting) - Chapter One

[D20Dazza]

Ghost Hound Elf Bard

Realising that all hope of a discreet entry has been folied by the lit spear Ghost turns to his halfling friend "Well we've announced ourselves, should we continue or turn back and think this out some more? From the look of the man in robes this is where we want to be."

 

[Bront]

Realising that all hope of a discreet entry has been folied by the lit spear Ghost turns to his halfling friend "Well we've announced ourselves, should we continue or turn back and think this out some more? From the look of the man in robes this is where we want to be."

"From the rumors I've heard, if this man didn't want us to get this far, we wouldn't have. No reason to turn back now." Taran says, sounding more confident than he feals.

 

[Festy_Dog]

On the ground next to where the bars entered the floor was a lot of white dust that had come up out of holes. It may take some time but perhaps he could remove one of the bars from the floor and slide out, or wait for his captors and attempt to overcome them.

Ba'aktar relfected upon his options. He was in no state to be fighting, which saddened him somewhat, but there was an alternative nonetheless. If he could remove one of the bars he had a chance of locating his gear and getting the hell out. Undoubtedly he'd relieve whoever it was here of anything remotely of value that came within arm's reach. A person is understandably disgruntled after being locked up semi-naked while exceptionally injured. He also needed to make some money somehow after botching the job. Ba'aktar now took firm grip of the loose bar, and tried to work it out of place.

 

[Phoenix]

Ba'aktar relfected upon his options. He was in no state to be fighting, which saddened him somewhat, but there was an alternative nonetheless. If he could remove one of the bars he had a chance of locating his gear and getting the hell out. Undoubtedly he'd relieve whoever it was here of anything remotely of value that came within arm's reach. A person is understandably disgruntled after being locked up semi-naked while exceptionally injured. He also needed to make some money somehow after botching the job. Ba'aktar now took firm grip of the loose bar, and tried to work it out of place.

[sblock]Strength check (DC hidden) +10 - Failure
Strength check (DC hidden) +24 - Success
[/sblock]

Ba'aktar's weakened muscles strained against the bars, trying to loosen them from their brackets in the floor, but to no avail. He could tell that, in time, they would come loose, just not right away...

Probably a day passed, who knew in this place? The half-orc rolled the bar from side to side, picked at the morter, and slowly loosened the iron bar that rested in place. At on epoint the corridor echoed with booted feet and their was a horrible scream, but nothing and nobody bothered him in his effort.

[sblock]Ba'aktar heals 4hp during this time.
[/sblock]

Hunger was the worse part, but it was not nearly as bad as this parched throat and lips, begging for any fluid. Without the ring he had come to rely upon so dearly, it seemed somewhat ironic that he may die this way rather than on the point of a blade.

[sblock]Fort saves vs dehydration:
DC 10 +10 - Success
DC 11 +16 - Success
DC 12 +21 - Success
DC 13 +7 - Failure (5pts subdual damage)
DC 14 +16 - Success
DC 15 +17 - Success
[/sblock]

Somewhere in a quieter moment, when the wailing in the distance was softer, the bar slipped out into Ba'aktar's tired hands. The gap in the cell wall was small, but Ba'aktar spared no time in pushing him self inbetween them, breathing out, and squeezing...

[sblock]Escape Artist check (DC 20) +24 - Success
[/sblock]

Collapsing in the corridor outside of his cell, the now-freed half-orc could see the corridor clearer in the dark. There was a faint light from the direction of the wailing noise, though the chamber was probably still a fair distance away. Cells lined one side of the corridor, though the ones near Ba'aktar looked empty.

Behind him the corridor disappeared into the darkness with no indication of what way beyond.

 

[Festy_Dog]

Collapsing in the corridor outside of his cell, the now-freed half-orc could see the corridor clearer in the dark. There was a faint light from the direction of the wailing noise, though the chamber was probably still a fair distance away. Cells lined one side of the corridor, though the ones near Ba'aktar looked empty.

Behind him the corridor disappeared into the darkness with no indication of what way beyond.

Ba'aktar coughed quietly. He was thirsty and tired, and after hearing the scream from before he figured that interaction with the source of the wailing would not have been an enjoyable idea. He staggered down the corridor into the concealing darkness, which he hoped would keep him safe, and sought out what he could away from the noise.

 

[Bront]

"From the rumors I've heard, if this man didn't want us to get this far, we wouldn't have. No reason to turn back now." Taran says, sounding more confident than he feals.

Taran and Ghost continue rowing towards the other side.

 

[Phoenix]

Taran and Ghost continue rowing towards the other side.

As the boat approaches the pier, the Yellow Cultist turns his head to watch the approaching boat. For a moment he seems to peer out at the boat before turning and running back into the darkness on the far side of the docks.

Taran and Ghost's boat drifts against the pier and docking is a simply matter, though an eager Twitchy almost tips the boat as the large rat bolts for dry ground. Both halfling and elf are soon upon the old wooden pier looking onto a ancient docks that looks well weathered and dangerously rotten at random areas along the walk.

The explorers hear the approaching people before they see them, cultists returning no doubt, eager to 'investigate' Taran and Ghost's appearance. Out of the darkness five humanoids in full yellow robes, hoods and slippers run onto the docks holding long, thin blades in one hand and a crackling ball of purple energy in the other.

[sblock]Twitchy initiative +16
Ghost initiative +15
Taran initiative +4
Yellow Cult initiative +3

OOC: Twitchy awaits Taran's command at his initiative.
[/sblock]

 

[Phoenix]

Ba'aktar coughed quietly. He was thirsty and tired, and after hearing the scream from before he figured that interaction with the source of the wailing would not have been an enjoyable idea. He staggered down the corridor into the concealing darkness, which he hoped would keep him safe, and sought out what he could away from the noise.

The darkness hides nothing from Ba'aktar as he staggered along the hall, using one hand to prop himself up most of the time. Each of the dirty, old cells on his left was empty and contained enough dust and cobwebs to show that no-one had used them for years. His captors had probably left him here to die for their own reasons.

At the end of the hall a large iron door with a small window at eye level marks the end of the passage. Flickers of blue-green light escaped from the barred window and there are stange crackling noises escaping from within.

Shouldering himself against the iron door, Ba'aktar's eyes easily defeat the darkness, flashing lights, and weary dehydration as they peer into the room. Three men in yellow robes with hoods resting on tables nearby, stand around a rack that is partially tilited against the far wall.

In the centre of the room one of the young children that Ba'aktar had rescued is chained to a table, several wires penetrating under his skin lead into the larger form that is secured on the tilted rack. Energy passes between the two, but both have passed out and make no sound.

Ba'aktar's eyes were lying to him though, he knew that for sure. There was no way that the person attached to the rack near the Yellow men was who he thought it was. Ba'aktar was standing on this side of the door, battered, bruised and dehydrated...

...there was no way that the man who was on the rack could possibly look identical to himself.

 

[Festy_Dog]

Ba'aktar's eyes were lying to him though, he knew that for sure. There was no way that the person attached to the rack near the Yellow men was who he thought it was. Ba'aktar was standing on this side of the door, battered, bruised and dehydrated...

...there was no way that the man who was on the rack could possibly look identical to himself.

Ba'aktar looked down at his hands, making sure they were still his, and checked his legs for the slices inflicted by the late Ulam. He must have been himself, he didn't feel like anything else, if that made sense. So if he was still himself, surely that could not have been him on the other side of the door...

...it wasn't worth thinking about right now anyway. There was no escape this way, just questions he couldn't hope to answer. He turned around, and went the other way.

 

[D20Dazza]

Ghost Hound Elf Bard

Out of the darkness five humanoids in full yellow robes, hoods and slippers run onto the docks holding long, thin blades in one hand and a crackling ball of purple energy in the other.

Ghost pulls his mace from beneath his robe, his hand is tight upon the grip. He lets it hang menacingly by his side all the time assaying the intentions of the cultists. As they pound down the dock Ghost starts to chant the story of the Fight of Eldren Dahl the great gladiator.

[sblock]sense motive (+5); inspire courage (+1 charm and fear; +1 attack and damage affects Ghost, Taran and Twitchy)[/sblock]