The last thing you saw before ending up here was looking at yourself in a reflection. Be it a mirror in a room, washing your face in a basin, or the surface of the sea. You appear to be in a small, dark stone cell, the faintest glimmer of candlelight from beyond the metal bars of the door to where you are. Looking at yourself, you appear to be in just a tattered set of clothing, your equipment missing.
The cell itself is cobbled stones cemented together with a dark grey hue. On the wall opposite the doorway is what appears to be a black stone face with demonic features, its eyes appear to be like an empty void, and seem to cause a headache if you stare into them.
Examining the door to your cell, you see that it is unlocked, the hinges rusted and lock appears smashed. Across from you appears to be another cell along this corridor, someone else at the door to their similarly broken cell door, their appearance just about visible from the limited illumination beside the doors.
If you would like to give a physical introduction of your characters as you see one another before leaving your cells. You are effectively not in initiative so freeflowing descriptions as we begin.
Base rules for the game:
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Mara groans as she tries to piece together the last thing she rembered before walking up in the strange cell. It had something to do with the strange mirror she found but other then that she drew a blank about how she got in the cell. Seeing no reason to linger for to long. The warlock pushes the door of her cell open, preparing to use her spells if any of the strangers in the cell tried to attack her.
Mara stands at average height for a human woman in their early to mind twenties, her skin being lighter then normal as if she spent most of her times in doors. She has light blonde hair with jade green eyes that are always moving from one interest to another. On the back of each of her hands she has what look a brand from when she made the pact with her patron.
There is a screeching noise of the rusted metal of the cell door as Mara begins to force her way out. Pushing seems more difficult, as it appears the door is designed to swing inward. Pulling it open and leaving her cell she can see that the corridor is dimly lit and continues for a ways. The width of the corridor is wide enough for a couple of people to comfortable walk side by side, as a dozen of these cell doors appear to flank both sides.
At one end there appears to be a pale statue, standing around eight feel tall in the guise of a robed human. The statue appears purposely androgynous with a shaved head, with one hand raised in a halting gesture.
At the other end of the corridor appears to be a huge demonic head set against the wall. It is made of a pitch black rock with spiral horns protruding high enough to hit the fifteen foot high ceiling. The head has its mouth opened as if yelling a battle cry, the contents of its mouth shrouded in darkness.
Darnell looks away from the demonic head, its eyes unnerving him.
This can't be Sandy Creek,he thinks.
He quietly pushes open his cell door and walks into the "hallway."
"Hello?" he says upon seeing the others.
"What's going on in here?"
Darnell is a stout-looking halfling. He stands just under 3 feet tall and lacks the paunch of a stereotypical halfling. His brown clothes are plain but clean. He has curly brown hair, brown eyes, and a plain face.
Mara cringes a bit at the loud sound as she moves the rusted metal door, letting it sit open behind her. As she lets her eyes adjust to the dim light in the hallway she will slowly move towards the strange statue. The curious warlock will stop to study it, purposely avoiding the demonic head that would surely cause nightmares to anyone that looked at it for to long.
She pauses as she hears someone calling out, turning around to look down the hall. It takes a few seconds for her eyes to adjust but she makes out the for, of the halfling."I do not know what this place is."
Shadowy Vale, known by most as Shadow, wakes up hearing the screeching noise. He quickly looks around to get his bearings, unfamiliar with this place. He steps back into the shadows as he hears voices wondering what his next move should be.
A brief moment passes, as his heart races, he plans to swing to door open and get ready to pounce on anything outside. This did not quite go as planned as the door is a bit heavier than he expected. Taking the surprise of his movements away with the slow loud opening of the door, he steps back into the room and then jumps out of the doorway with his claws out trying to look ferocious.
Standing before you is a tall slender Tabaxi (Cat Person) covered head to paws in dark grey fur. He is wearing a loose fitting sleeveless dark green shirt, frayed at the edges. His pants are also loose fitting, dark brown and well worn.
Feeling cramped and completely confused, Darkwing attempts to spread his wings. <Does anyone know where this place is? ..... Last thing I remember is flying low over a pond to get a look at my fresh kill. I saw the bloody remains of the fawn in my talons. Then I looked at myself ... thinking how different I look from my brothers.... Then boom!!! in this cell with nothing... Hey!! Hey!! Where is my stuff and the deer? This is crazy!!> all said through deep speech. clicks and squawks blasting from his cell.
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DM - New World (LMP), Shield of Bahamut
Darkwing Skyyykiller-Aarakocra Monk- Lost in the Endless Tower
Kabarr Caldera- Fire Genasi- Fighter - Cold Cash
Talley Tafoia-Genasi Cleric-Rising of the Accursed Dragon
As Darnell looks up to the taller folk, nodding to Mara, he sees that the ceiling above them isn't made of the same stone configuration of the walls and floors. It looks like it is a long piece of gooey black mass, like it has been freshly covered in a thick layer of tar. It looks almost like it is moving, like an incredibly slow stream.
Outside each doorway appears to be a lit torch, alternating which side of the hallway it is resting. They look like they have been burning only for a few minutes. Where the two statues face each other from the opposite ends, the corridor appears to be self-contained; no doorway leading to the next corridor.
Darkwing spreads his wings, realising that the cell is so enclosed he can't extend his wing span to its full potential. This place is entrapping and definitely an antithesis to one who would hunt from the air in a free environment.
Shadow drops his arms by his sides and looks quizzically at the Halfling and Human, who appear to they may be as lost as he is. He begins to look into other Cells and is startled to hear the loud squawks and clicks, he jumps and climbs the wall, hanging on with his claws near the ceiling, as he watches everything carefully.
Shadow clings into the grooves on the cobbled walls, as he too notices that the ceiling appears to be made of a slowly shifting river of tar. As he clings that high up to it, the tar slowly begins to congeal nearby him, like it is becoming runny similar to honey, threatening to drop onto his shoulder.
Mara pauses as she sees more people come from the cells, raising her brow as she hears the sounds of what she thought was a dying bird. She shakes her head and goes back to the statue. This place sure is strange.... But I have been in several ruins before so this should be treated like any of the others.
She moves closer to the statue, wishing she had her focus so that she would be able to create more light to get a better view of it.
Mara inspects the statue. The pale statue of the androgynous human appears to be made out of one single piece of stone. The position his is standing in is similar to a caster, and the robes do not seem to fit within a particular uniform that is familiar to Mara. The hand that is held out in the halting gesture seems to be slightly discoloured, as if there was a flaw in the stone used to create this statue.
Shadow pulls a torch from a bracket, which creaks as it also appears to be made from the same rusting metal as the bars. As he holds it up to look at the tar on the ceiling, the droplet that was nearing him appears to have retracted back into the ceiling, the mass of the ceiling still slowly but surely channelling along like a river.
Mara will step wawy from the statue and turn to the other beings that had been coming out of the various cells that lined the wall. She moved closer to the rest of them but kept her wits about her incase she would have to fight one of them off. It then struck her that she had been with other people while on her expedition into the temple. She rushes to the cells and will look for any of her companions.
"Marquess, Thokk are either of you here!? I swear if wither of you touched something you should not have I will blast the both of you upside the head!"
"I don wanna... no... noooo... BACON BITS!" Rumble exclaims, snapping up from his bed of stone. After a few moments of labored breathing he lets out a sigh of relief, and starts to lays back down... only to snap to full alertness hearing loud screeching (Shadow's door opening). "Oww! What the -- Wait, where the... What in the world?"He scrambles to his feet. And after a few short moments of scanning the cell room, Rumble rushes to his cell door and starts to violently shaking it.
His initial call for aid dies in his throat once the door comes free. Further confused but undaunted, Rumble wanders out rubbing his head, sees Shadowy Vale, and exclaims, "Sweet Chauntae! What is that!?" Almost immediately after that he goes to grab at the bars of his cell door, and try to rip and brandish one of the bars, if not the whole darn thing itself at Shadow.
Rumble stands before you tall and proud for someone that couldn't be more than six foot even at best. Though his form and feature is equivalent to that of a well-built human, his skin appears to be some sort of flexible metal, gunmetal black tone, and -- with exception of the beginnings of some sort of scar disappearing into frayed wreck of a grey tunic -- is otherwise smooth outside of various natural fissures throughout his body. The most visible and largest of which stem from eye sockets, and faintly glow orange like magma much the eyes themselves. His brown pants at least seem to be in slightly better condition, though the shoes are...non-existent.
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When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
The commotion of Rumble takes his attention off the slowly moving river of tar as he turns quickly to face Rumble. In his left hand he holds the torch forward to guard himself from this strange looking human. Being excitable he speaks quickly his words seem to meld together.
After a brief pause trying to catch his anxiety, he is all too aware that his ball of yarn he had since a child is missing. He looks back up towards the ceiling lifting his torch again and starts to follow the direction it is flowing towards.