D&D 5E Out of the Abyss IC

[Yavathol]

Kamael goes over to Buppido, "Hey there, you got any idea how many drow there are in this place? And is this in the middle or the outskirts of drow territory?"Kamael is happy to talk a little about his life if the gnome expresses any interest, or to listen to Buppido talk about his life if he prefers, but tries to steer the conversion towards geography & political topics if he can...

 

[lowkey13]

*Deleted by user*

 

[Quickleaf]

A troupe of five drow pass by the prison. They are not shadows, for there is no light down here. Instead, they are fleeting shades of grey for those with darkvision. Those without, whose eyes have been plunged into darkness, can only make out murmurs spoken in their insidious under-tongue.

[MENTION=6799753]lowkey13[/MENTION]
[sblock=Undercommon]"Who shall she have flayed next? The mad quaggoth, perhaps?"

"There better be one soon. My sword arm hungers for the blood of men and elves, yet we are kept waiting until the slave-takers from Menzoberranzan arrive."

"Mistress Ilvara has been kept... occupied... by Shoor of late, so it may be a while before another flaying. Unless she decides to finish what the ooze started on old Duskryn."

A chorus of vile laughter comes from the drow, then abruptly stops as they pass quietly.[/sblock]

Quiet footsteps scrape along the stone passage leading to the prison cell door, as if someone were dragging an injured leg. From the still darkness outside the cell, a brooding older drow watches the prisoners with his arms folded, his piwafwi (drow cloak) wrapped tight about his shoulders. The only glimmer of color comes from his haunting red eyes. Half of his face looks partially melted with numerous scars traversing his ghostly flesh. He speaks in rusty Common:

"I expected the orcs would have eaten at least one of you by now."

Jorlan Duskryn
Credit: uthrandir.einjin.com Artist: Kyorlin Dyrr Special Effects: Quickleaf

 

[CanadienneBacon]

The derro wrung his hand and nodded at Kamael. "Nineteen drow in this god-forsaken outpost, m'boy. Plus their slaves. I can't get a good bead on how many slaves. Or what kind; their number fluctuates." A scream of pain from somewhere beyond the prison cell rent the air. Buppido offered a cheery grin. "I'm sure you understand why." He nodded a second time, his smile fading. "It'll all work out according to plan, m'boy. When the God rises and all is set to rights, is will be as it was intended. Or perhaps it is as it was intended, even now." The small derro eyed Kamael up and down as if sizing him up. "Yes, you'll do nicely." He smiled, revealing a set of crooked teeth, then continued, "Ah, but you were asking after the outpost, where it's situated. Couldn't say. Nowhere near Menzoberranzan, the great drow city of the Underdark. Oh, no. Nowhere near." He shook his head in emphasis. "It's why our Dear Mistress is so bitter. Far from home, she is. Far from home." He repeated the phrase more than was necessary.


The myconid sprout perked up a hair at Brinn's attention. It had no discernable features, no eyes or mouth, or face, yet it managed to convey thought and emotion. The softening of its mushroom hide, a slight puff of inflation...or deflation when it met the lick of Ilvara's scourge. Brinn thought once again that it had been watching him.

 

[Yavathol]

The derro wrung his hand and nodded at Kamael. "Nineteen drow in this god-forsaken outpost, m'boy. Plus their slaves. I can't get a good bead on how many slaves. Or what kind; their number fluctuates." A scream of pain from somewhere beyond the prison cell rent the air. Buppido offered a cheery grin. "I'm sure you understand why." He nodded a second time, his smile fading. "It'll all work out according to plan, m'boy. When the God rises and all is set to rights.."Yes, you'll do nicely."

"What God are you referring to; and I'll do nicely for what? You sound like a priest, are you following some kind of plan?"Kamael is starting to suspect this gnome is as crazy as the quaggoth..

 

[industrygothica]

Maintaining his stoic silence, Kago fiddles with a live spider he's managed to capture in his corner of the cell. It was his corner, because no one had yet attempted to take it from him.

"I expected the orcs would have eaten at least one of you by now."

The comment stole Kago's attention from his spider, and he found himself instinctively offering a deadly glare to the drow shadow. So much for the low profile... Even more infuriating, perhaps, was that that very thought had occurred to Kago more than once.

 

[lowkey13]

*Deleted by user*

 

[GlassEye]

Complete darkness envelopes and blinds Raza, forcing her to rely on other senses. She strains her ears listening for the speech and movements of her cell mates as her fingers search the cave crevice by crevice. Her diligence is rewarded and she tucks the thing her fingers found into her clothing: hidden but within easy reach.

Buppido is near, she can tell by his breathing, and she wonders if the chatty creature noticed. She shrugs (a strange action when you cannot see yourself make it) and is about to whisper to him when the one who named himself Kamael approaches Buppido. Raza wonders if he can see her then decides it doesn’t matter.

”Those sound like the questions one who is planning escape asks.” She would say more but the quiet scrape of footfalls without, and the voice of one of their captors stills her voice. But only for a moment.

”Raza is an old piece of gristle; not to their liking.” She laughs, an odd sound in this prison and wonders what he may have overheard.

​

[sblock=Raza, in brief]
[size=+1]Raza Thulcandra[/size], halfling Druid 3
Initiative: +2; Inspiration: Yes
AC: 13; HP: 24/24; Speed: 25 ft

Str 8 (-1), Dex 15 (+2) , Con 14 (+2), Int 11 (+0), Wis 15 (+2), Cha 12 (+1)

Saves: Intelligence +2, Wisdom +4
Skills: Insight +4, Perception +4, Religion +2, Stealth +4
Senses: passive Perception 14

In Hand: nothing
Spells Prepared: (5) (Grimoire)

• 2nd level: 2/2; Darkvision, Flame Blade*, Spider Climb (circle), Spike Growth (circle)
• 1st level: 4/4; Cure Wounds*, Faerie Fire, Goodberry
• Cantrips: Druidcraft, Mold Earth, Produce Flame

* can be cast at higher level

Special:
Lucky, Brave, Halfling Nimbleness, Naturally Stealthy, Natural Recovery 2/2
Wild Shape 2/2 (1 hour duration)
[/sblock]

 

[CanadienneBacon]

Buppido nodded at Kamael, eagerness in his smile. His eyes flicked to the side, to Solace. Then back to Kamael. He lowered his voice two notches. "Why, our escape, of course. Bright lad like yourself, surely you thought of it. And I'm not a priest, no. I haven't any use for those. The God is not yet named and has not yet shown his divinity. But his time is coming, and all must be in order when it does. We'll want out of this outpost, and away." The derro looked around on the sly. "Perhaps our ends match and our mean can intertwine for a time, yes? You want free of this place?"

Brinn turned around and nearly tripped over the myconid sprout. The thing had crept close to his legs without his hearing. Eldeth--the female shield dwarf--lay on a bundle of rags in the middle of the room. She turned and groaned, in obvious pain. Solace tended her, but it was unclear whether Eldeth slept and dreamed, or lay in a fevered stupor. "Noooo. No. No." The dwarf shook her head, her words limpid. Ront the Orc growled in ire at Eldeth's bleating. Ront rose, anger etched on his brow. He made to cross the cell for Eldeth, barking as he strode. [sblock=Orc]"Shut up, wench! Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!"[/sblock]







A rasp of a voice carried lowly from the far reach of the cell. A shadow there stirred, shifted in discomfort. "Leave us be, Duskryn. There's naught here to interest the likes of you." The owner of the voice, a male drow, hadn't moved in the last day, but chose now to address his drow captor. Buppido'd whispered his name. Sarith. He spoke again, slowly unfolding his lanky body and rising to stand. "Or has Ilvara once again found use for you?" There was challenge in Sarith's eyes. He ignored the circus unfolding in the cell, his bearing fixed on Jorlan.

Sarith Kzekarit
Credit: Wizards of the Coast Artist: Unknown

 

[Quickleaf]

The older drow cradles an arm as if it were mangled, attempting to hide the extent of his injures which include an awkwardly bent foot. While his poise is that of a skilled warrior, his injuries clearly have crippled him. His eyes trace from the orc Kago to the bald human Brinn. A fleeting wry smile passes over the drow's mutilated face, a garish image in the dark.

"Unfortunate for mad Sarith then," he gestures toward the insane drow with festering skin and matted hair that shares the prison cell with you. There is a cool sarcasm in his tone as he leans against the wall opposite the prison door. "Velkynvelve has held many orcs over the years. They gnash their teeth, promise bloody vengeance, but they all meet the same fate: enslavement to the great houses of Menzoberranzan. Will your fate be any different, human?" He asks with arched brow, sneering slightly when he speaks of the noble drow houses.