You're jostled from a deep slumber, awakening to the sound of metal squeaking, and the soft crunch of wheels through snow and dirt. Groggily you open your eyes, only to see nothing but more darkness. Those with darkvision can make out the interior of some rectangular box, with benches on each side. There are others with you, also stirring awake.
Thump.
Once more you're jostled as whatever transport you're in hits a bump in the road. You might have been thrown from your seat, were it not for a chain wrapped around your waist securing you to the wall behind. A similar chain binds your hands together, attached to a metal loop bolted to the floor. Your mouth feels dry, like you haven't had water in days and you can feel the blood pounding in your head. A dense fog has settled in your mind, and your limbs seem weak and slow to respond to your commands.
How do you react to this strange situation?
Notes:
The environment is total darkness, those without dark vision are essentially blinded. You know you aren't alone though - you can hear others shuffling about in their chains.
You are currently without any of your equipment, barefoot and dressed in ragged robes.
Your mind is addled, something has scrambled your recent memory and it's still weighing down on you. If you try to recall anything that's happened prior, make a wisdom saving throw
Glyptemis' initial reaction would almost certainly be to retract his head into his shell (Shell Defense) before trying to get his bearings. He would then take that moment, and with a rising panic, try to recall how he may have gotten into this mess (4+1=5 WIS save).
After opening and closing his eyes a few times to try and clear the grogginess, Kalamin brings himself to accept the new circumstances. He tries to wade through the thick muck of his mind, struggling to recall his last memories. He tugs experimentally against the chains around his wrists, wondering if he could muster the strength to break them. "Worth a try at least." He rasps. Bracing his feet against the floor he yanks upward on the chains.
Whatever malady has hold on his mind seems to have equal sway over his limbs. His muscles refuse to obey, and after struggling against the metal bindings for but a few seconds they begin to quiver before giving out. A wave of dizziness rolls over him, and he leans back against the metal wall.
"Any ideas what this is?"
He says aloud to the other prisoners, hoping someone might remember something.
Leftenant is awakened by the jarring of the wagon. The pounding in his head has dulled his senses. He can’t tell if his vision has been knocked out as he sees the same thing whether (as he believes) his eyes are opened or closed, darkness. He tries to rub his eyes but finds his hands restrained by chains. And so to prevent any other sudden blindness he keeps his eyes closed.
He concentrates on the sounds around him. Perhaps it’s a repetitive squeak in a wheel that he counts. Or he tries to determine the number of horses pulling the wagon. “Are those even horses?” He thinks to himself. He hears others and listens for any sounds of guards. But he can’t contain his dark humor as he waits.
Addressing the silence, he lets out the following. “So, am I the only one that calls this a good time?” He makes mental notes as best he can to the number and gender of the other occupants’ responses.
Try as you might to break through the mental fog, it is simply too much. You remember reading through a book at some point, in a cozy little inn....somewhere. But beyond that there's nothing.
Kalamin
Sequences flash in your mind as you try to focus on what came before. Screaming. Yelling. Bloodshed. You remember a wound across your chest, and falling backwards. Before you can make it any clearer, the images slip away.
Those who can't see in the dark hear a sudden rattling of chains and grunting as Kalamin tries to break his shackles - it is short lived however, as his strength quickly gives out.
OoC: Leftenant can make a Perception check to try and audibly suss out information.
You still your mind as best you can, filtering out the noises from inside the wagon. You can easily make out the steady clip-clops of hooves at the front, two pairs, so two horses. Just barely you can make out something trudging through the snow on either side of the vehicle. Occasionally you hear the soft chink of chain shirts. You can't tell exactly how many people are out there, definitely more than half a dozen though.
"Wh... wha.. who's there? I'm not so sure I'd call this a good time, whoever you are. I'd much prefer to not be in chains!"
He feels around at the chains and tugs at them a bit, and can tell right away that he doesn't have the strength to break them. He breathes deeply and tries to calm himself, the safety of his shell offering a small bit of comfort as he shifts his focus to solving the problem in front of him.
"I think... if I could just see these chains I might be able to get them off of us..." He says partially to himself and partially to the rest of the group.
Lyra's eyes flit open in the dimness, darkvision taking stock of her restraints, and those inside the hurtling vehicle with her. Her first thought is to the harmonica, relieved to find that it still hangs at her throat, a darker patch of blackness in the ambient gloom, drinking the shadows.
"Do you ever get the feeling," her drawl is laconic, "that service in first class isn't what it once was? Not a pastry cart or complimentary massage in sight."
Lyra's teeth jolt shut as the wheels below hit a bump and continue onward. She answers the human first. "A good time indeed. Certainly, making good time, it appears. Anyone happen to remember to what place we might be headed? Or coming from? I seem to have misplaced my ticket."
Lyra WIS Save: 16
She herself does not struggle against her bonds. Her slender form sits still and brown eyes close slowly as she reaches back into the groggy recesses of her mind, striving to recall how she may have arrived here. Dirty blond hair stirs softly as she shakes her head.
"Would that I could light your way, tortle friend, or help us all break our bonds, or recover what has been taken from us. If we do free ourselves, it may be best not to make those outside aware just yet with overly loud sounds such as the breaking of shackles. Perhaps soon we shall have answers."
Murmuring softly and gesturing with her hands to the extent she can within her restraints, Lyra attempts to summon her Mage Hand (verbal and somatic).
Focusing, you pierce through the fogginess in your mind. You remember meeting up with Kat, being warned against moving out in the open. She was under the impression Lady Terill had hired some unsavory types to deal with your...Behavior. But you'd shrugged the danger off and returned home.
You recall opening the door to the find the place ransacked. Phrases in blood written in a script you couldn't recognize scrawled onto the walls, floors, and ceiling. You remember a seeing something in the shadows, an obscured figure. Three burning red eyes staring out at you from the dark, the third centered on the forehead.
Chanting. Lethargy. Then darkness.
There's enough slack in the chains to perform the somatic components necessary for Mage Hand, and the spectral hand appears floating next to you.
Kalamin quietly listens to the others jest about their predicament, he musters a smile but doesn't join in. He never did learn how to be funny. Leaning forward enough to see, he gets a better look at everyone this time. "I'm afraid I can't bring light to this place either, or else I would my friend."
"Who are all of you anyway?"A part of him hoped that before whatever came next, they might be able to puzzle out what they were doing here. Was there something they shared in common that made them valuable to their captors?
He watches with interest as a floating hand appears in the space with them. Perhaps this woman could break them out quietly.
Leftenant sat for a while, eyes closed but listening intently. Based on what he heard so far from inside the boxed wagon there was a male tortle, another male, and a female mage (with an even darker sense of humor than his own). He dearly enjoyed her earlier comments about the travel accommodations which made him smile if not release a small chuckle.
He could maybe tell there were others with them but was still unsure if they were captives too or perhaps a guard to listen and watch them. For the time being, he remained silent, simply listening while looking as frail as he could. It probably wasn’t too much of a stretch for the middle-aged human.
His mind did try to connect the dots as well though, what did these four (at least) have in common that they found themselves in this shared space. He’s fairly sure he’d remember a tortle if he met one in the past. (Wisdom Saving Throw: 8)
Lyra pauses for a long moment, allowing her darkvision to adjust to the black interior of the vehicle and trying to put aside for now the strange horror of her fleeting final memory. Her Mage Hand follows her wandering gaze, looking for anything that might help. Certainly a ring of keys, had anyone been so foolish to leave that inside here, but anything else, perhaps a bar of metal that might be used for leverage by one of the stronger fellow captives to force open their shackles. Or even some other tool which might prove useful later.
LyraPerception to find anything within their enclosed wagon that might help free herself or her companions, or be useful later: 23 (Natural 20).
Answering the question asked, she murmurs, "I am Lyra, most recently of Twintide. No one, truly." A slight tinge of melancholy creeps into her voice, gone as quick as it came. "Yet my grandmother was of elven blood. I have her to thank for my darkvision among other things. Are any of you other four able to see in darkness? The tiefling, surely. I am searching for anything that might help us free ourselves, or be useful later."
Memories of the recent past remain mostly shrouded to you as you try to recall them. You remember hunting in the woods - the turkey began to flee suddenly, even though you were sure it hadn't caught sight of you. You remember a dark shadow looming from behind you, and then nothing.
Lyra
The inside of your mobile prison is truly barren. Smooth metal walls on all four sides, save you what you presume is the back of the wagon, where you can just make out a seam in the middle for the door. There's no lock or handle mechanism on the inside, nor is there anything loose for you to use as leverage.
The chains around your waist are secured by a padlock, and lead to small holes in the wall at your back where they're no doubt anchored. The manacles around your wrists have keyholes, and the chains attached to them are secured to thick metal loops jutting out from the floor.
As you talk amongst yourselves, probing for a way out, you feel yourselves suddenly lurch to a halt. A moment passes. Through the metal walls you hear a muffled feminine voice, shouting orders.
Another moment passes.
FWOOM.
Something moving fast impacts outside, and heartbeats later an explosion rips through the air. You're violently knocked about in the metal wagon as it threatens to tip over, slamming back down onto all four wheels just as it seems it might reach that critical point. You hear cries fly out, shouting in all direction as chaos breaks loose.
The wagon shakes violently once more as the ground itself begins to rumble. You hear a great tearing sound, as if the earth itself were ripping apart.
You hear the unmistakable sounds of steel on steel as a great battle begins to unfold outside. Suddenly you hear someone slam into the back of the wagon at the door. You hear the jingle of metal and clicks of a lock being undone.
The inside of the wagon is suddenly illuminated by moonlight as the door is flung open. An elvish man with ghost-pale skin, white hair, and red hairs stands in the doorway, keys gripped in one hand, and a rapier in the other. He opens his mouth to speak before a bolt tears open his neck. The elf falls forward into the wagon, shaking as he tries vainly to stop the blood gurgling from his ruined throat.
As he falls still and quiet, the sounds of battle continue to rage outside...
Kalamin studies the dead elf hunched over the entrance of the prison wagon, he begins to try and reach the corpse with his legs before spying the woman's mage hand. He glances to her and then back to the corpse. "Keys, you think?"
Glyp blinks for a moment as his eyes adjust to the light flooding the inside of the cart just in time to see the elf's untimely death. "Oh shit.. oh ****.." he says to himself as he emerges from his shell and assesses the chains that are binding the lot of them.
"I don't think we have time for keys."he responds to Kalamin, before shifting into a muttering, guttural tone as he casts Knock on the manacles that are binding them (DM lmk if we need more than one casting of Knock to get everyone out.) (retconned)
Glyp things for a moment about casting Knock but then thinks better of it. "Too many locks... okay yes, lets find some keys. Maybe I can help!" He then casts Mage Hand to provide assistance in the search for keys.
OoC: There are two sets of locks are every person. One for their manacles, and one for the chain around their waist. Knock only works on one lock at a time.
Thump
You're jostled from a deep slumber, awakening to the sound of metal squeaking, and the soft crunch of wheels through snow and dirt. Groggily you open your eyes, only to see nothing but more darkness. Those with darkvision can make out the interior of some rectangular box, with benches on each side. There are others with you, also stirring awake.
Thump.
Once more you're jostled as whatever transport you're in hits a bump in the road. You might have been thrown from your seat, were it not for a chain wrapped around your waist securing you to the wall behind. A similar chain binds your hands together, attached to a metal loop bolted to the floor. Your mouth feels dry, like you haven't had water in days and you can feel the blood pounding in your head. A dense fog has settled in your mind, and your limbs seem weak and slow to respond to your commands.
How do you react to this strange situation?
Notes:
Glyptemis' initial reaction would almost certainly be to retract his head into his shell (Shell Defense) before trying to get his bearings. He would then take that moment, and with a rising panic, try to recall how he may have gotten into this mess (4+1=5 WIS save).
After opening and closing his eyes a few times to try and clear the grogginess, Kalamin brings himself to accept the new circumstances. He tries to wade through the thick muck of his mind, struggling to recall his last memories. He tugs experimentally against the chains around his wrists, wondering if he could muster the strength to break them. "Worth a try at least." He rasps. Bracing his feet against the floor he yanks upward on the chains.
Whatever malady has hold on his mind seems to have equal sway over his limbs. His muscles refuse to obey, and after struggling against the metal bindings for but a few seconds they begin to quiver before giving out. A wave of dizziness rolls over him, and he leans back against the metal wall.
"Any ideas what this is?"
He says aloud to the other prisoners, hoping someone might remember something.
Wisdom Save: 10
Strength Check: 7 (natural 1)
Leftenant is awakened by the jarring of the wagon. The pounding in his head has dulled his senses. He can’t tell if his vision has been knocked out as he sees the same thing whether (as he believes) his eyes are opened or closed, darkness. He tries to rub his eyes but finds his hands restrained by chains. And so to prevent any other sudden blindness he keeps his eyes closed.
He concentrates on the sounds around him. Perhaps it’s a repetitive squeak in a wheel that he counts. Or he tries to determine the number of horses pulling the wagon. “Are those even horses?” He thinks to himself. He hears others and listens for any sounds of guards. But he can’t contain his dark humor as he waits.
Addressing the silence, he lets out the following. “So, am I the only one that calls this a good time?” He makes mental notes as best he can to the number and gender of the other occupants’ responses.
Glyptemis
Try as you might to break through the mental fog, it is simply too much. You remember reading through a book at some point, in a cozy little inn....somewhere. But beyond that there's nothing.
Kalamin
Sequences flash in your mind as you try to focus on what came before. Screaming. Yelling. Bloodshed. You remember a wound across your chest, and falling backwards. Before you can make it any clearer, the images slip away.
Those who can't see in the dark hear a sudden rattling of chains and grunting as Kalamin tries to break his shackles - it is short lived however, as his strength quickly gives out.
OoC: Leftenant can make a Perception check to try and audibly suss out information.
Perception: 20 (rolled on character sheet/in log)
Leftenant
You still your mind as best you can, filtering out the noises from inside the wagon. You can easily make out the steady clip-clops of hooves at the front, two pairs, so two horses. Just barely you can make out something trudging through the snow on either side of the vehicle. Occasionally you hear the soft chink of chain shirts. You can't tell exactly how many people are out there, definitely more than half a dozen though.
"Wh... wha.. who's there? I'm not so sure I'd call this a good time, whoever you are. I'd much prefer to not be in chains!"
He feels around at the chains and tugs at them a bit, and can tell right away that he doesn't have the strength to break them. He breathes deeply and tries to calm himself, the safety of his shell offering a small bit of comfort as he shifts his focus to solving the problem in front of him.
"I think... if I could just see these chains I might be able to get them off of us..." He says partially to himself and partially to the rest of the group.
Lyra's eyes flit open in the dimness, darkvision taking stock of her restraints, and those inside the hurtling vehicle with her. Her first thought is to the harmonica, relieved to find that it still hangs at her throat, a darker patch of blackness in the ambient gloom, drinking the shadows.
"Do you ever get the feeling," her drawl is laconic, "that service in first class isn't what it once was? Not a pastry cart or complimentary massage in sight."
Lyra's teeth jolt shut as the wheels below hit a bump and continue onward. She answers the human first. "A good time indeed. Certainly, making good time, it appears. Anyone happen to remember to what place we might be headed? Or coming from? I seem to have misplaced my ticket."
Lyra WIS Save: 16
She herself does not struggle against her bonds. Her slender form sits still and brown eyes close slowly as she reaches back into the groggy recesses of her mind, striving to recall how she may have arrived here. Dirty blond hair stirs softly as she shakes her head.
"Would that I could light your way, tortle friend, or help us all break our bonds, or recover what has been taken from us. If we do free ourselves, it may be best not to make those outside aware just yet with overly loud sounds such as the breaking of shackles. Perhaps soon we shall have answers."
Murmuring softly and gesturing with her hands to the extent she can within her restraints, Lyra attempts to summon her Mage Hand (verbal and somatic).
Sabetha(Monk2):DungeonMair's Rime/Inge(Barbarian2):Krayveneer's After the Fall/Seri(Cleric1/Sorcerer1):Uhtred's Windward Isles/Barn(Paladin1):Nyx's ToA
Dyson/Eleo(Cleric4):Vos' Beyond the Veil/Soren(Druid4):Bartjeebus' Ravenloft/Nivi(Rogue3):Raiketsu's CoS/Lyra(Warlock2/Bard3):BlameItOnWinter's Will of the Ancients
Joren(Fighter6):NotDrizzt's Simple Request/Quyen(Adept1):Constance's Nentir Vale/Toa(Barbarian6/Fighter4):MrWhisker's Dark Lord's Return
Lyra
Focusing, you pierce through the fogginess in your mind. You remember meeting up with Kat, being warned against moving out in the open. She was under the impression Lady Terill had hired some unsavory types to deal with your...Behavior. But you'd shrugged the danger off and returned home.
You recall opening the door to the find the place ransacked. Phrases in blood written in a script you couldn't recognize scrawled onto the walls, floors, and ceiling. You remember a seeing something in the shadows, an obscured figure. Three burning red eyes staring out at you from the dark, the third centered on the forehead.
Chanting. Lethargy. Then darkness.
There's enough slack in the chains to perform the somatic components necessary for Mage Hand, and the spectral hand appears floating next to you.
Kalamin quietly listens to the others jest about their predicament, he musters a smile but doesn't join in. He never did learn how to be funny. Leaning forward enough to see, he gets a better look at everyone this time. "I'm afraid I can't bring light to this place either, or else I would my friend."
"Who are all of you anyway?" A part of him hoped that before whatever came next, they might be able to puzzle out what they were doing here. Was there something they shared in common that made them valuable to their captors?
He watches with interest as a floating hand appears in the space with them. Perhaps this woman could break them out quietly.
Leftenant sat for a while, eyes closed but listening intently. Based on what he heard so far from inside the boxed wagon there was a male tortle, another male, and a female mage (with an even darker sense of humor than his own). He dearly enjoyed her earlier comments about the travel accommodations which made him smile if not release a small chuckle.
He could maybe tell there were others with them but was still unsure if they were captives too or perhaps a guard to listen and watch them. For the time being, he remained silent, simply listening while looking as frail as he could. It probably wasn’t too much of a stretch for the middle-aged human.
His mind did try to connect the dots as well though, what did these four (at least) have in common that they found themselves in this shared space. He’s fairly sure he’d remember a tortle if he met one in the past.
(Wisdom Saving Throw: 8)
Lyra pauses for a long moment, allowing her darkvision to adjust to the black interior of the vehicle and trying to put aside for now the strange horror of her fleeting final memory. Her Mage Hand follows her wandering gaze, looking for anything that might help. Certainly a ring of keys, had anyone been so foolish to leave that inside here, but anything else, perhaps a bar of metal that might be used for leverage by one of the stronger fellow captives to force open their shackles. Or even some other tool which might prove useful later.
Lyra Perception to find anything within their enclosed wagon that might help free herself or her companions, or be useful later: 23 (Natural 20).
Answering the question asked, she murmurs, "I am Lyra, most recently of Twintide. No one, truly." A slight tinge of melancholy creeps into her voice, gone as quick as it came. "Yet my grandmother was of elven blood. I have her to thank for my darkvision among other things. Are any of you other four able to see in darkness? The tiefling, surely. I am searching for anything that might help us free ourselves, or be useful later."
Sabetha(Monk2):DungeonMair's Rime/Inge(Barbarian2):Krayveneer's After the Fall/Seri(Cleric1/Sorcerer1):Uhtred's Windward Isles/Barn(Paladin1):Nyx's ToA
Dyson/Eleo(Cleric4):Vos' Beyond the Veil/Soren(Druid4):Bartjeebus' Ravenloft/Nivi(Rogue3):Raiketsu's CoS/Lyra(Warlock2/Bard3):BlameItOnWinter's Will of the Ancients
Joren(Fighter6):NotDrizzt's Simple Request/Quyen(Adept1):Constance's Nentir Vale/Toa(Barbarian6/Fighter4):MrWhisker's Dark Lord's Return
Leftenant
Memories of the recent past remain mostly shrouded to you as you try to recall them. You remember hunting in the woods - the turkey began to flee suddenly, even though you were sure it hadn't caught sight of you. You remember a dark shadow looming from behind you, and then nothing.
Lyra
The inside of your mobile prison is truly barren. Smooth metal walls on all four sides, save you what you presume is the back of the wagon, where you can just make out a seam in the middle for the door. There's no lock or handle mechanism on the inside, nor is there anything loose for you to use as leverage.
The chains around your waist are secured by a padlock, and lead to small holes in the wall at your back where they're no doubt anchored. The manacles around your wrists have keyholes, and the chains attached to them are secured to thick metal loops jutting out from the floor.
As you talk amongst yourselves, probing for a way out, you feel yourselves suddenly lurch to a halt. A moment passes. Through the metal walls you hear a muffled feminine voice, shouting orders.
Another moment passes.
FWOOM.
Something moving fast impacts outside, and heartbeats later an explosion rips through the air. You're violently knocked about in the metal wagon as it threatens to tip over, slamming back down onto all four wheels just as it seems it might reach that critical point. You hear cries fly out, shouting in all direction as chaos breaks loose.
The wagon shakes violently once more as the ground itself begins to rumble. You hear a great tearing sound, as if the earth itself were ripping apart.
You hear the unmistakable sounds of steel on steel as a great battle begins to unfold outside. Suddenly you hear someone slam into the back of the wagon at the door. You hear the jingle of metal and clicks of a lock being undone.
The inside of the wagon is suddenly illuminated by moonlight as the door is flung open. An elvish man with ghost-pale skin, white hair, and red hairs stands in the doorway, keys gripped in one hand, and a rapier in the other. He opens his mouth to speak before a bolt tears open his neck. The elf falls forward into the wagon, shaking as he tries vainly to stop the blood gurgling from his ruined throat.
As he falls still and quiet, the sounds of battle continue to rage outside...
Kalamin studies the dead elf hunched over the entrance of the prison wagon, he begins to try and reach the corpse with his legs before spying the woman's mage hand. He glances to her and then back to the corpse. "Keys, you think?"
Glyp blinks for a moment as his eyes adjust to the light flooding the inside of the cart just in time to see the elf's untimely death. "Oh shit.. oh ****.." he says to himself as he emerges from his shell and assesses the chains that are binding the lot of them.
"I don't think we have time for keys." he responds to Kalamin, before shifting into a muttering, guttural tone as he casts Knock on the manacles that are binding them (DM lmk if we need more than one casting of Knock to get everyone out.)(retconned)Glyp things for a moment about casting Knock but then thinks better of it. "Too many locks... okay yes, lets find some keys. Maybe I can help!" He then casts Mage Hand to provide assistance in the search for keys.
OoC: There are two sets of locks are every person. One for their manacles, and one for the chain around their waist. Knock only works on one lock at a time.
OoC: Lolllll so many locks, retconning w/ an edit above (with prior DM approval ofc)
OoC: đź‘Ť