Link's Out of the Abyss!

*Hallo! This is for Weathervision, JFCapps, Wes, Ben_Evolent, Brian_Avery, and Mister_Whisker!*

Setting: The Underdark.

Time: Unknown. 

Location: Unknown.

Rules:

It's been days since you've last seen the sun. Each of you, individually, has been captured by the drow. Whether it be for delving too deep, from a surface raid, whatever the cause, your situation seems bleak. You've all been trapped down here, with no idea for how long, your necks and wrists shackled by metal. From what you've seen, about a dozen or so other prisoners are in the slave pen. 

Your captors include a cruel drow priestess who calls herself Mistress Ilvara, of House Mizzrym. Over the past several days, you've seen her several times, robed in silken garments and flanked by two male drow, one with a mass of scars covering his face and neck.

Mistress Ilvara likes to impress her will with a dreaded barbed whip in hand, and to remind you that your fates now belong to her. "Accept your fate, learn to obey, and you may survive." Even as you begin to plot your escape, her words still echo in your memory...

Everyone, please roll 1d10 for how long you've been here for, and go ahead and introduce your characters!

7

Mirelle sits quietly in her corner, doing her best to be beneath notice by the frightful Drow overseers. Her big eyes dart around nervously... as if she is looking at things that aren't quite there. She is dressed a far too colorfully for this drab place, yet she isn't broken yet. She is waiting for the right moment.

Image:

Mirelle, your time here hasn’t been in vain. While none of you have your proper equipment, you’ve still been able to scavenge some materials. Roll a d20 and add 7 to it.

Mirelle (?) roll: 22

7 days 

Finn Alder sits comfortably against a nearby wall with his hands clasped biding his time in this wretched place. He wears durable clothes for travel, and his one extravagance is his high collared over coat auburn in hue with a cobalt blue lining. He takes small comfort in tracing the sigils of spells within his mind, dreaming of being able to use them to escape.

1d20 +7 

9+7 = 16

d10 roll: 7

d20 roll (if needed): 5

Nyskira Varnuk (last part pronounced NUKE... not nuck) sits slouched against the wall with his head hung low in defeat. He isn't sure how long it's been since his capture without sunrises to measure time.

When tired and given a chance he sleeps, and when hungry... he starves until given the meager scraps that pass for a meal by the drow overseers.

Wearing dark blue robes doesn't hide the fact that Nyskira is a green dragonborn, even wearing the hood up as his face, hands, and especially his thick tail are clearly visible.

The clinking rattle of metal can be heard as he raises his shackled hands to adjust his hood, pulling it low enough to shield his eyes under the guise of getting some sleep. But really it allows him to observe the drow undetected, to watch, wait, and plan for escape.

1

They had dragged Soren into the cell the same way he had entered the world.  That is to say, kicking and screaming and covered in blood.  Some his, some others.  They'd slapped manacles and a collar on him and left him sitting against the wall across from the Dragonborn.  

"Nice place."  He says with deep sarcasm.  "Probably the cleanest dungeon I've ever been shackled up in.  I give it a solid....hm...three out of ten.  Exceptional for this sort of thing, really."  

He looks around, looking at the rest of his fellow prisoners.  

"How did you lot wind up here anyway?"  

Quiet "Shade" in the Mountain Valley

*This werepanther art is the closest to how I imagine Shade, but I think that Shade is thinner, not quite this bulky.*

6 days
1d20+6 = 23

Shade was brought to the pen the day after Finn, Nyskira, and Mirelle.  When their ill-fated expedition was originally ambushed in the Underdark, the big tabaxi fought back ferociously, trying especially to prevent his friend, Mirelle, from being taken.  He didn't stop fighting until he sustained such grievous wounds that he fell unconscious.  He somehow survived his wounds, and a couple of drow eventually dragged him into the pen.

The first day in the pen, Shade paced back and forth, glaring and sometimes growling at their jailers.  He's tall, taller than anyone in their expedition except for maybe the dragonborn, Nyskira.  He's strong but trim.  His dark fur glistens in the bright light, not that there's much light here.  Shade eventually realized that pacing wasn't helping.  Now, when he's in the pen, he just stays near Mirelle.  He seethes with impatience but contents himself with glaring at the Drow and imaging various ways of killing them. 

Shade is careful not to talk too much with the other members of their expedition party nor to gather in a group.  He doesn't want to attract the attention or suspicion of their guards.  At least, not until they have a viable plan for escape!

25

*OOC: Whoops.  Missed this roll earlier...*