Telgrothia: A Song of Savagery & Heroism (D&D 3.5)

[jbproctor]

It takes a few minutes but Thokas is able to use the rusty nail to shred the rope around Ali's wrists enough for him to slip his arms free.

Ali, Hattori and Thokas then hear a hushed rustling next to them. Looking over they see the figure who had been unconscious slowly sit up right. Within a few seconds the cloaked figure had freed his hands from his bounds.

After watching the cloaked figure escape the ropes so easy Ali notices a shadowy figure darting around behind a few barrels in the northwestern corner of the room.

 

[Thorinshield]

Hattori talks to Thokas I am a Warforged, a Samurai of the Nakatomi Clan. Though in time when we escape from here i will tell you more. And for those chains, i'll see what i can do.

OOC//rolled a 19 strength check to break my own chains

 

[Aramalian]

His arms freed, Ali reaches toward his feet and tries to slip his slender elven ankles out of the shackles.

OOC: 17 on Escape Artist

A flicker of shadow near the barrels catches the cleric's eye. "Thokas! Hattori! Over there!"

 

[jbproctor]

Hattori grips the chain in his hands and begins to pull back on them with all of the strength he can muster. The chain starts to bend but does not break. The nails bolting the chain to the floor begin to loosen and come up as the wooden floor board creaks and warps.

Ali attempts to slide his thin eleven ankles out of the metal shackles. It is a very tight fit and the shackles dig into his flesh causing him to bleed. The blood helps in lubricating his ankles and he is able to squeeze his feet out at the cost of becoming bloody and bruised.

 

[Thorinshield]

OOC: Hattori makes another strength check of 14 to break the chains completely free

 

[Aramalian]

The elf limps to the cloaked figure that has finally begun to move.

"Hold still for a moment. You've taken a dreadful blow to the head."

With gentle fingers, he examines the gaping, swollen gash in the young man's scalp.

OOC: 17 on a Heal check

Ali holds the gash closed with one hand, and reaches inside his pale green robes with the other. He finds the inside pocket he was looking for, and draws out a couple of dried leaves, which he crushes in his hand. Spitting on the grainy particles, he mixes them into a makeshift poultice and rubs it over the wound. "Sorry I don't have a better ointment on hand just now." Whispering a prayer in Elven, he focuses positive energy through his touch.

OOC: CLW : 1d8+1 = 3 points of damage healed

 

[Red006]

"Thank you...uh.... I am Seamus the Black. Quite a bind we've found ourselves in isn't it?"

 

[Red006]

He pats the back of his head lightly where the ointment has been applied. He throws his jet-black hood up over it, almost to shield it from any further prodding from the elf.

 

[Aramalian]

Ali whispers, "Indeed! The last thing I remember, I was laying down to sleep in the common room of one of the dockside inns. Woke up here with a mean headache and you n'Tel’Quessir."

 

[Red006]

"Sounds about right," Black growls "Last thing I remember, I had a drop too much 'o the cure and decided to snooze it off in the alley out back." He rubs his head again."You get the same story from feathers and the tin soldier over there? Although I'd say you'd need a mountain to knock that bruiser out cold." He motions to the mechanic behemoth.