The air is damp as the bumps from the cart jostle and you and echo through the cavernous tunnels. Multiple prisoners of various race and age fill the enclosed coach of the slaver's wagon. The light is dim and the temperature cold as you try to subtly scan your wearabouts to understand both your captors and fellow inmates. Your back of your heads all hurt from the impact of being knocked unconscious the day before, and furthermore your bodies feel strange... were you drugged somehow?
(Introduce your characters to each other and the story among the captured group within the cart. Know that your actions and words will matter as you are under slave guard.)
"Oh, the pain! My head hurts like a drider's shit!" A short and slim Elven youth wakes up in the cart. Using their pure soprano voice, perfect for hymns, they unleash all manner of abuse in three different languages. "What are those orcish dullards thinking? What will they do if they harm a priceless, rare talent like me?" The individual, unmistakably of Drow heritage, possesses dark skin, white hair, and a visage as sweet as honey. However, something is amiss. Their body lacks the elegance of Dark Elf nobles, and their ears are slightly round compared to pureblood Elves.
The little man breathes deep, almost choking as his head bumps the floor of the cart, prompting a surprising burst of pain. His knobby old fingers gently sweep up his scalp, eventually finding a sizeable knot at the back of his skull. Slowly, he pulls himself upright, shivering slightly at the realization of a sudden draft. He draws another deep sigh as his old joints groan in protest. He blinks a few times, expecting color or movement. Reality soon comes flooding back to the halfling, memories of his lost sight trickling back in a wave of bittersweet familiarity. "Oh, little Good. Where are we now?" he mutters under his breath. Hearing nothing but the rolling of the cart and steady breathing of those around him, he closes his little eyes and waits, hoping the other shapes he hears jostling around are other captives and that they're all still alive.
The little man whispers a short prayer of thanks to his Patron. He brings his hand up at shoulder height, silently waving in the direction of the new voice. He then quietly brings the finger of his other hand to his lips, advising a need for silence. Without a word, he beckons to his fellow victim, patting an empty spot next to him.
Boomi wakes with a start. Realizes he is bound and starts trashing about trying to break free of his bounds. Still a bit weak from the the drug he can't generate enough force to do anything. He stops after a moment steaming taking long deep labored breaths. He finally stops to look around.
Boomi an older dwarf in his late 190s with a deep tan (for a mountain dwarf) hint at many years under the sun. His body is battered and scared but his snow white beard is perfectly groomed.
Boomi's eyes come to rest on the others. He almost looses his temper when he sees a half drow but bites his tongue.
Ey you lot. We're we be? Last I remember I was in me camp with me boys enjoying a pint.
The old Halfling smiles wearily, staring into emptiness. "Wherever it is, it feels most unkind," he says in a soft, sing-song tone. He quietly pulls his legs in, wincing slightly at the dull ache in his knee. "Adelwald." He offers a wrinkled, bony hand.
All these blasted tunnels look the same to me. I hate the elfen underdark why I joined the surface army. If I'd guess I say we som eres below the mines headed down. These stones look different then I'm use too.
Hm. That explains the chill. If this is the Underdark, I s'pose that leaves few options as to our lovely captors. Aside from the child cursing over yonder, I think there're two others here.
He paws around himself, finding a limp form to his right.
That's one.
His bare foot brushes an arm.
And that's two.
Until they come to, I'm afraid we're short on options.
Boomi leans in and whispers. Can ye fight in armed. As soon as an opening shows itself I'm breaking that driver's neck. Escapn I'll get much harder when we get to their camp
The Half-Dark-Elf stares at their roommate as if facing a group of stray dogs, particularly the unwashed one, if directed towards the Dwarf. However, they are not fools and grasp the situation immediately. Swallowing their pride, the Half-Elf wiggles toward the others.
"Azhumi," they say, "I was in a cozy, soft spider silk bed and drinking golden mushroom wine." They tactfully omit details about who accompanied them in the bed.
After listening to the conversation, Azhumi shoots an expression of disapproval at the old Dwarf. "Do you have a death wish? You'll die if we end up in the middle of the slave market." They don't want to waste valuable assets so soon. "I have an idea. I'll talk to our captors. Don't do anything if they hit me."
The Elf youth moves to the front of the cart and starts hitting the wall. "Hey, mushroom heads! Do you know who I am? I am the property of the 13th house Higure! Our Matron Mother will unleash hellish punishment if you don't release me immediately!" Despite their claims, Azhumi doubts the Matron Mother would lift a finger for them. Her daughters have shown an unhealthy amount of rivalry recently because of Azhumi, and the Half-Elf wonder if that's the reason they ended up in the slave cart.
@DM
Azhumi's performance of creation doesn't require a voice or gesture. Do I need to roll a Stealth skill check when I use it? Also, Azhumi has proficiency in drums. Can they use the cart wall as a drum to cast spells?
Only if we can take the two still asleep. I'm not so old that I cannot carry an ally to safety and as a priest of the dead, I cannot in good conscience leave those yet to face theirs. Pick your moment carefully.
...he ponders some more.
Actually, if we can take out the guards around us, we could use the cart to gain some distance from our captors without dragging dead weight. I know a blind man driving a cart isn't the best idea, but I figure you and the child could help me steer...
The caravan seems to continue down the cavernous paths, and you notice various guards walking alongside the carts in addition to the drivers.
The prison cart seems well built, like the brig of a ship, and other than the clopping hooves, wooden wheels, and footsteps or voices of the guards and prisoners…it’s relatively quiet.
The Half-Dark-Elf stares at their roommate as if facing a group of stray dogs, particularly the unwashed one, if directed towards the Dwarf. However, they are not fools and grasp the situation immediately. Swallowing their pride, the Half-Elf wiggles toward the others.
"Azhumi," they say, "I was in a cozy, soft spider silk bed and drinking golden mushroom wine." They tactfully omit details about who accompanied them in the bed.
After listening to the conversation, Azhumi shoots an expression of disapproval at the old Dwarf. "Do you have a death wish? You'll die if we end up in the middle of the slave market." They don't want to waste valuable assets so soon. "I have an idea. I'll talk to our captors. Don't do anything if they hit me."
The Elf youth moves to the front of the cart and starts hitting the wall. "Hey, mushroom heads! Do you know who I am? I am the property of the 13th house Higure! Our Matron Mother will unleash hellish punishment if you don't release me immediately!" Despite their claims, Azhumi doubts the Matron Mother would lift a finger for them. Her daughters have shown an unhealthy amount of rivalry recently because of Azhumi, and the Half-Elf wonder if that's the reason they ended up in the slave cart.
@DM
Azhumi's performance of creation doesn't require a voice or gesture. Do I need to roll a Stealth skill check when I use it? Also, Azhumi has proficiency in drums. Can they use the cart wall as a drum to cast spells?
"Deafening dogs!" Azhumi returns to the others, cursing. "It seems we haven't arrived at the market or city yet. Our escape must be swift. But we need food and water..." The Half-Elf bites their finger nail, then whispers to their roommate, "Hey, can any of you cast spells? If so, tell me what your spellcasting focus looks like. I may be able to make one for you."
@DM
Currently, I'm considering creating a spell focus for Azhumi or others and using the cart wall as a drum to cast a ritual spell. This would involve summoning Unseen Servant and using Minor Illusion as a Help Action to let it steal keys or scout the caravan. Do I need to roll for this plan?
"Deafening dogs!" Azhumi returns to the others, cursing. "It seems we haven't arrived at the market or city yet. Our escape must be swift. But we need food and water..." The Half-Elf bites their finger nail, then whispers to their roommate, "Hey, can any of you cast spells? If so, tell me what your spellcasting focus looks like. I may be able to make one for you."
@DM
Currently, I'm considering creating a spell focus for Azhumi or others and using the cart wall as a drum to cast a ritual spell. This would involve summoning Unseen Servant and using Minor Illusion as a Help Action to let it steal keys or scout the caravan. Do I need to roll for this plan?
That's doable, and yes to the roll (for stealth), but only if you choose to do so stealthily and without consent of the others. If you plan not to collaborate and alert the guards, just go ahead without rolling. If you want to consult your fellow inmates (and players), then perhaps wait before potentially thrusting everyone into battle (especially considering that not everyone has been active).
The air is damp as the bumps from the cart jostle and you and echo through the cavernous tunnels. Multiple prisoners of various race and age fill the enclosed coach of the slaver's wagon. The light is dim and the temperature cold as you try to subtly scan your wearabouts to understand both your captors and fellow inmates. Your back of your heads all hurt from the impact of being knocked unconscious the day before, and furthermore your bodies feel strange... were you drugged somehow?
(Introduce your characters to each other and the story among the captured group within the cart. Know that your actions and words will matter as you are under slave guard.)
"Oh, the pain! My head hurts like a drider's shit!" A short and slim Elven youth wakes up in the cart. Using their pure soprano voice, perfect for hymns, they unleash all manner of abuse in three different languages. "What are those orcish dullards thinking? What will they do if they harm a priceless, rare talent like me?" The individual, unmistakably of Drow heritage, possesses dark skin, white hair, and a visage as sweet as honey. However, something is amiss. Their body lacks the elegance of Dark Elf nobles, and their ears are slightly round compared to pureblood Elves.
The little man breathes deep, almost choking as his head bumps the floor of the cart, prompting a surprising burst of pain. His knobby old fingers gently sweep up his scalp, eventually finding a sizeable knot at the back of his skull. Slowly, he pulls himself upright, shivering slightly at the realization of a sudden draft. He draws another deep sigh as his old joints groan in protest. He blinks a few times, expecting color or movement. Reality soon comes flooding back to the halfling, memories of his lost sight trickling back in a wave of bittersweet familiarity. "Oh, little Good. Where are we now?" he mutters under his breath. Hearing nothing but the rolling of the cart and steady breathing of those around him, he closes his little eyes and waits, hoping the other shapes he hears jostling around are other captives and that they're all still alive.
The little man whispers a short prayer of thanks to his Patron. He brings his hand up at shoulder height, silently waving in the direction of the new voice. He then quietly brings the finger of his other hand to his lips, advising a need for silence. Without a word, he beckons to his fellow victim, patting an empty spot next to him.
Boomi wakes with a start. Realizes he is bound and starts trashing about trying to break free of his bounds. Still a bit weak from the the drug he can't generate enough force to do anything. He stops after a moment steaming taking long deep labored breaths. He finally stops to look around.
Boomi an older dwarf in his late 190s with a deep tan (for a mountain dwarf) hint at many years under the sun. His body is battered and scared but his snow white beard is perfectly groomed.
Boomi's eyes come to rest on the others. He almost looses his temper when he sees a half drow but bites his tongue.
Ey you lot. We're we be? Last I remember I was in me camp with me boys enjoying a pint.
The old Halfling smiles wearily, staring into emptiness. "Wherever it is, it feels most unkind," he says in a soft, sing-song tone. He quietly pulls his legs in, wincing slightly at the dull ache in his knee. "Adelwald." He offers a wrinkled, bony hand.
Boomi shakes his hand trying not to crush it.
Boomi Battleborn at ye service. Were they nap ye. Don't remember seeing any of your like on the road?
He ponders for a moment, then shakes his head
Last I recall, I'd taken shelter from a nasty squall in a small cavern. I was eating some cheese when...
He again slides his hand over the bump on his head. He winces.
...Well, I suppose when something bumped me on the noggin. Oof.
In any case, what's done is done. Tell me, can you see anything around us? Do you recognize where we might be?
All these blasted tunnels look the same to me. I hate the elfen underdark why I joined the surface army. If I'd guess I say we som eres below the mines headed down. These stones look different then I'm use too.
He rubs his hands vigorously, drawing some heat.
Hm. That explains the chill. If this is the Underdark, I s'pose that leaves few options as to our lovely captors. Aside from the child cursing over yonder, I think there're two others here.
He paws around himself, finding a limp form to his right.
That's one.
His bare foot brushes an arm.
And that's two.
Until they come to, I'm afraid we're short on options.
Boomi leans in and whispers. Can ye fight in armed. As soon as an opening shows itself I'm breaking that driver's neck. Escapn I'll get much harder when we get to their camp
The Half-Dark-Elf stares at their roommate as if facing a group of stray dogs, particularly the unwashed one, if directed towards the Dwarf. However, they are not fools and grasp the situation immediately. Swallowing their pride, the Half-Elf wiggles toward the others.
"Azhumi," they say, "I was in a cozy, soft spider silk bed and drinking golden mushroom wine." They tactfully omit details about who accompanied them in the bed.
After listening to the conversation, Azhumi shoots an expression of disapproval at the old Dwarf. "Do you have a death wish? You'll die if we end up in the middle of the slave market." They don't want to waste valuable assets so soon. "I have an idea. I'll talk to our captors. Don't do anything if they hit me."
The Elf youth moves to the front of the cart and starts hitting the wall. "Hey, mushroom heads! Do you know who I am? I am the property of the 13th house Higure! Our Matron Mother will unleash hellish punishment if you don't release me immediately!" Despite their claims, Azhumi doubts the Matron Mother would lift a finger for them. Her daughters have shown an unhealthy amount of rivalry recently because of Azhumi, and the Half-Elf wonder if that's the reason they ended up in the slave cart.
@DM
Azhumi's performance of creation doesn't require a voice or gesture. Do I need to roll a Stealth skill check when I use it? Also, Azhumi has proficiency in drums. Can they use the cart wall as a drum to cast spells?
He sighs. In a whisper, he replies,
Only if we can take the two still asleep. I'm not so old that I cannot carry an ally to safety and as a priest of the dead, I cannot in good conscience leave those yet to face theirs. Pick your moment carefully.
...he ponders some more.
Actually, if we can take out the guards around us, we could use the cart to gain some distance from our captors without dragging dead weight. I know a blind man driving a cart isn't the best idea, but I figure you and the child could help me steer...
The caravan seems to continue down the cavernous paths, and you notice various guards walking alongside the carts in addition to the drivers.
The prison cart seems well built, like the brig of a ship, and other than the clopping hooves, wooden wheels, and footsteps or voices of the guards and prisoners…it’s relatively quiet.
To the child:
If you can distract them, do so. Just be careful.
@DM
how closely are the guards watching?
They ignore you initially.
(Depends… what are you’re trying to do?)
Close enough that they would notice you doing something longer than a few seconds, but not so closely as to be under constant watch.
"Deafening dogs!" Azhumi returns to the others, cursing. "It seems we haven't arrived at the market or city yet. Our escape must be swift. But we need food and water..." The Half-Elf bites their finger nail, then whispers to their roommate, "Hey, can any of you cast spells? If so, tell me what your spellcasting focus looks like. I may be able to make one for you."
@DM
Currently, I'm considering creating a spell focus for Azhumi or others and using the cart wall as a drum to cast a ritual spell. This would involve summoning Unseen Servant and using Minor Illusion as a Help Action to let it steal keys or scout the caravan. Do I need to roll for this plan?
That's doable, and yes to the roll (for stealth), but only if you choose to do so stealthily and without consent of the others. If you plan not to collaborate and alert the guards, just go ahead without rolling. If you want to consult your fellow inmates (and players), then perhaps wait before potentially thrusting everyone into battle (especially considering that not everyone has been active).
@DM
How tall is the cart?