FAR in the deep reaches of the north lies a single, solitary peak. The dwarves of yore named it Khar-Ônd, the High Father, but in the tongues of men and elves it grew to be called the Lonely Mountain. From its ever-frozen peak gushes the river Essyn, which feeds all the lands of Gilliand below. The tribes of men in that region built for themselves Gillian, a great city, protected by a lake harnessed of Essyn's mighty flow. As the men of Gillian grew wealthy from the trade of the mountain, as well as southern kingdoms and the favor of the elves to the west, the dwarves of Khar-Ônd delved deeper and deeper into the earth. Beneath it's vast piles of stone lay riches beyond imagining, mined and hoarded by the dwarves of Khar-Ônd for centuries until, one fateful night, a great Wyrm of the Eastern Wastes and her foul brood brought death to all within the mountain and defiled its once hallowed vaults. Ever more has the mountain been quiet, but for the laments of dwarvish ghosts and the foul rumblings of a dragon upon a hoard of treasure.
Now four heroes, brought together by fate and circumstance, find themselves but a few days' journey from the promise of adventure in Gilliand, where dragons sleep beneath Khar-Ônd's embrace and foul things lurk in the gathering shadows cast by the Lonely Mountain. Hailing from a distant land, these heroes are gifted beyond those of this time and place, and their mettle shall be tested by fire and steel before their story is complete.
For now, however, the sounds of revelry die away with the turning of the stars as our four heroes glance mournfully from behind bars of forged iron, locked in Ramsen Tower, some three day's journey south of Gilliand along the Fairway. Caught and imprisoned on various accusations of mischief and mayhem, these four strangers fall to conversation, hailing as they do from a distant land and called here on the promise of worthy adventure.
Ramsen Tower is small, for a dungeon, and all things considered surprisingly comfortable. Laid out as a single, fairly large room with cells built up within, the Tower has clearly seen use as a storage unit for the local constabulary for some time, as the inmate's gear is stored in an open crate in the middle of the room. Located on the second floor of the squat, square tower, thick stone walls and iron grates separate the Tower's three cells, all of which are occupied. In the westerly cell, an elf and a woman play at dice and mutter in the musical cadence of thieves cant, discussing plans and future escape. In the northerly cell, two humans, one with angelic features and metal armor, and the other in robes, gingerly check themselves for bruises and scrapes from their rough, and recent, incarceration. In the easterly cell, a short-statured fellow dressed in rags sleeps with soft breaths, back to the other cells and facing the wall.
The guards have largely left the room and gone to patrol or to sleep downstairs, secure in the belief that these prisoners can effect no escape...
"Quite a mess we've landed ourselves in, eh? Who could have thought that the mob would be that fired up by the little trick of mine? You'd think that the villager from this sleepy little town would be a bit calmer, right Vivian?" says a main in flamboyant and colorful clothes to the woman next to him. "Really, they just seem to love overreacting."
Though the conversation was quite casual, Cyndril's idle chatter served dual purposes. First, he wanted test to the deepness of the guard's sleep. Though the man didn't seem particularly vigilant, it never hurt to check. If a bit of talk could wake him, then trying to escape would be much riskier. Secondly, the performer wanted to disguise his eavesdropping on the two other prisoners of this dreary prison, as he too understood the intricacies of the language of the rogues. Though he faced his twin sister, the wizard instead was listening intently to the conversation of the elf and woman in the other cell.
Vivian's stern gaze fell upon Cyndril, her golden blonde hair cascading around her shoulders like a radiant halo. Her bright blue eyes, filled with a mix of exasperation and concern, seemed to hold an otherworldly light within them, a reflection of her celestial heritage. She let out a deep sigh, her voice carrying a hint of frustration as she responded, "This is no time for jests, Cyndril. We find ourselves in quite the mess, and your little trick has only escalated matters further. These townsfolk may be simple, but they don't take kindly to being deceived."
She was clad in well-taken care of mail armor with a tabard on top adorned with intricate patterns and symbols of the Great Sanctuary of the Eternal Light that she hailed from dedicated to Aetheris, the Divine Luminescence, Vivian exuded an aura of strength and divine grace despite her dreary circumstances. Her gaze briefly flickered towards the sleeping guard, ensuring their conversation remained low and private. Vivian continued, her tone carrying a sense of urgency this time addressing the other prisoners, "We must focus on finding a way out of here, but it won't be easy with the whole town against us. We need a plan, a way to prove our innocence and clear our names before things spiral even further out of control."
"The first thing I'm doing when we get out of here is is pulling Simech's guts out with a fork like they're noodles."
Margarette whispers in Elvish to her companion as she picks up the dice and shakes them back and forth in her hand, trying to mask her whispering with the sound of clacking dice.
"Should have known that bastard would hold a grudge. We clear?"
Margarette stands, still clacking the dice in her hand, and then looks up and down the hall, seeing that they're now alone. She quickly moves back over to Shavaris and throws the dice on the ground.
"Keep making the noise for a second. If I can't get it, you'll have to help me..."
She plops down next to her friend and starts untying one of her boots. She slips it off fast, looks to make sure she's not being watched, and then holds it up where she can see the sole. There's a nail in the heal that has been working its way out for weeks that she has neglected to fix. Now she's glad she didn't. She grimaces as she raises the boot to her mouth and grips the stud with her teeth before pulling it free, then hides it in her top before taking a second to put her boot back on and return to the cell door to scan one more time to see if anyone is around. Satisfied that they're still alone, she reaches through the bars and slips the nail into the lock and begins trying to pick it..
Margarette attempts to pick the lock with the cobbler's nail.
Dexterity Check: 15
DM, let me know if there's something else you'd prefer I do!
The elf's ears twitch as she listens to the conversation in the next cell and is amused at her friend as she continues to pretend to play dice. She wonders what little trick they pulled off and how easily townsfolk here were willing to lock people up. Looking around at the cell area, she figures it must have been more than a little trick as it appeared that these cells were more used as storage instead of a cells. And at that she looks towards the easterly cell, wondering what the snoozing dwarf did to get himself locked up.
She knows what happened to them, and the tips of her pierced long ears tinge with pink as the anger as she thinks about it. Shavaris wears a worn set of black leather armor, her auburn hair cut short with a shock of blond running through it.
Pulling her attention back to her friend, she smirks and replies in elvish.
"Crystal. Though honestly I feel like we're just adding Simech's name to an ever growing list."
Her smirk grows into a full smile as Margarette pulls out a nail from her boot, but continues to clatter along with the dice.
"Impressive" then realizing she spoke in common, she looks over to the two that are awake to see if they noticed. Either way, she turns back to Marg, waiting to see if her luck has turned.
Speaking loudly as you are, nothing but a muffled snore replies from downstairs. Your neighbor in the easterly cell is unresponsive.
Margarette:
A 15 will just do it!
Those who have a passive perception of greater than 12 hear a soft click and notice the roguish woman in the westerly cell quietly fiddling with her boot while the lock of her door hangs suspiciously loose... There is no reaction from the guards downstairs or from the sleeping dwarf.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
"I can't believe that worked." Margarette says out loud in Common for everyone to hear as the lock pops open and she sticks her head out into the corridor. She motions for Shavaris to join her as she looks around, casting a glance back and forth to look for the guards as well as their cache of confiscated equipment.
Noticing the loose cell door, Cyndril gets up from the dusty floor and pats his robes down, then whispers to the woman looking around. "Why, hello there friend. I see you've gotten yourselves out of this shared predicament of ours. Why don't you do me a favor and fiddle with the lock to this cell as well? Or maybe just pass along that ingenious little tool you've got there so I can do it myself."
Vivian's gaze flickered between Cyndril and the two that exited their cell, uncertainty etched across her features. She understood the allure of freedom that beckoned from the neighbouring loose cell door, but the weight of their situation hung heavy upon her conscience. The risk of attempting a jailbreak without concrete evidence of their innocence was not one she was willing to take lightly. The desire for freedom clashed with her unwavering commitment to justice. She knew that escaping now might only deepen the suspicions against them, making it even more challenging to clear their names in the eyes of the townsfolk. Regardless, she could not live her brother alone and the cell was quite dreary...
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Shavaris follows Margarette out of the cell and hearing no noise from the guards downstairs, she reaches for Marge's hand and removes the nail from it. Nodding towards the crate in the middle of the cells that look like it might be holding their equipment, she turns towards the cell with the two talkers.
She eyes Cyndril quizzically as she considers his words, the nail flipping along her fingers as she does. Pausing for a moment, she whispers, "Why? What's in it for us?" She smiles, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes, "Friend eh? is that what we are? I'm curious as to what little trick you played to inspire a mob? Hmm.. I do want to hear that tale." The smile reaches her eyes as she attempts to use the nail as Marge did.
Sleight of Hand to unlock their gate with the nail - 22
Margarette hands the nail off with no issue, and is pleased when Shavaris starts the same line of inquiry she herself would have started. She keeps her head on a swivel as she moves to the crate and starts digging through it, fishing out her equipment; rapiers, crossbow, bolts, a knife...and then she starts pulling Shavaris's stuff free. She looks over her shoulder as she works, watching her friend pop the lock on the cell door, as well as watching for any unwanted company.
For Shavaris in Elvish-
"I'll bring your stuff to you. The cell at the end there, with the Dwarf or whatever he is. What's his deal?"
She slowly starts down the hall with Shavaris's stuff and hands it off, then finds the corridor and takes a peak while booting the end of her crossbow and loading a bolt into it. She scans for company...
Shavaris unlocks the door with suspiciously smooth gestures and it softly clicks open.
No response yet from downstairs, though your instincts tell you that the moment of calm might change at any moment.
As you root around through the pile of equipment, you are able to pretty easily distinguish what belongs to you and Shivaris from the two talkers in the northerly cell. There doesn't seem to be anything in the crate belonging to the sleeping dwarf, and no coins at all in the entire crate, if you had any to hand when you were arrested.
" 'preciate the assistance. I'll tell you the story of how we got in her after we're out properly. All's quiet for now, but that'll never hold. Better to not get caught again, eh?"
The wizard quietly slides open the cell door, gesturing for its other occupant to follow as he saunters over to the woman searching through a crate and follows suit, rifling through it for his belongings.
As Cyndril pulls out his wand and places his prized Dragonchess set into his pack, he speaks the two escapees in fluent Elvish. "You should be a bit more careful about where you speak. These walls have ears, you know."
Margarette glances over her shoulder as the man speaks in Elvish. She shows little emotion.
"Was worth a try." She says with a shrug. She keeps watching down the hall while she waits for them to determine what's going on with the Dwarf. "Shavaris, we'll go when you're ready. Right down this hall. I'll take the left wall if you want to go down the right. Press straight down the corridor where the guards went."
Shavaris smirks at the wizard as he speaks in elvish, "Good to know, thanks" back to him in elvish.
Turning to her friend she whispers, "Hang on, you've peaked my curiosity." And Shavaris heads over to the sleeping dwarf after taking her equipment from Margarette, crouches down and taps on his shoulder through the cell bars. "Shhh.. so tell me, what's your deal?"
As Cyndril slid open the cell door and gestured for her to follow, Vivian stepped out of the shadow of their cell, her movements graceful and deliberate. She remained alert, keenly aware of their surroundings and the need for discretion. Vivian approached Margarette and Shavaris with a mixture of caution and courtesy. She gave a respectful nod to Margarette, acknowledging her presence, and then turned her attention to Shavaris. Her voice held a touch of warmth and gratitude as she spoke, "Thank you both for your assistance. We are grateful for any aid in this dire situation."
As the dwarf remained unresponsive, Vivian's concern deepened. She took a quick glance at Shavaris. She recognized the stillness that enveloped him, the lack of breath in his chest. A solemn realization washed over her. "He... he is no longer with us," Vivian whispered, her voice filled with a mixture of sadness and reverence. She placed a hand over her heart, her eyes closing momentarily as she offered a silent prayer for the departed soul. "May his spirit find peace and solace in the embrace of the divine."
With her prayer done. Her voice, usually calm and composed, now carried a tinge of righteous indignation as she spoke in a hushed whisper. "This is an outrage! To treat a fellow being with such callous disregard, to let him perish in these confines... it is unconscionable." Vivian's hands clenched into fists at her sides. This injustice will not stand, not on her watch. "This cannot go unpunished!"
With purpose, Vivian picked up her affairs and was the first to lead at the front of the group with her shield and spear in case of an attack.
Seeing no motion from the dwarf, Shavaris stands up looking down at the dwarf, wondering why he was in here in the first place. She hears Vivian and looks at her, a curious expression on the elf's face as the Vivian makes her prayer. Then almost taken aback as the righteous indignation follows it. "You're an interesting one." is all she says.
Getting back towards the crate where the loot was held, Shav unsheathes her short swords, nodding towards Margarette, "On your right, got it" and smiles as the paladin charges down the middle.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Cyndril motions to his sister while making an exaggerated expression of exasperation. "She's simply like that sometimes. It's just the consequence of a poorly lived childhood."
The wizard is content to follow and hide behind the others, eyes darting back and forth with wand and rapier in hand.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Margarette moves up, watching as blondie moves ahead after some show of exasperation over the dead Dwarf. It's a prison, after all. What does she think happens in these places? This is the second time she's been to a shithole like this and it's been the same both times.
The group moves forward, the heavily armed lady up front, with Shavaris and Margarette following close behind. Margarette keeps her crossbow raised and ready as she scans the corridor ahead until they get to...
FAR in the deep reaches of the north lies a single, solitary peak. The dwarves of yore named it Khar-Ônd, the High Father, but in the tongues of men and elves it grew to be called the Lonely Mountain. From its ever-frozen peak gushes the river Essyn, which feeds all the lands of Gilliand below. The tribes of men in that region built for themselves Gillian, a great city, protected by a lake harnessed of Essyn's mighty flow. As the men of Gillian grew wealthy from the trade of the mountain, as well as southern kingdoms and the favor of the elves to the west, the dwarves of Khar-Ônd delved deeper and deeper into the earth. Beneath it's vast piles of stone lay riches beyond imagining, mined and hoarded by the dwarves of Khar-Ônd for centuries until, one fateful night, a great Wyrm of the Eastern Wastes and her foul brood brought death to all within the mountain and defiled its once hallowed vaults. Ever more has the mountain been quiet, but for the laments of dwarvish ghosts and the foul rumblings of a dragon upon a hoard of treasure.
Now four heroes, brought together by fate and circumstance, find themselves but a few days' journey from the promise of adventure in Gilliand, where dragons sleep beneath Khar-Ônd's embrace and foul things lurk in the gathering shadows cast by the Lonely Mountain. Hailing from a distant land, these heroes are gifted beyond those of this time and place, and their mettle shall be tested by fire and steel before their story is complete.
For now, however, the sounds of revelry die away with the turning of the stars as our four heroes glance mournfully from behind bars of forged iron, locked in Ramsen Tower, some three day's journey south of Gilliand along the Fairway. Caught and imprisoned on various accusations of mischief and mayhem, these four strangers fall to conversation, hailing as they do from a distant land and called here on the promise of worthy adventure.
Ramsen Tower is small, for a dungeon, and all things considered surprisingly comfortable. Laid out as a single, fairly large room with cells built up within, the Tower has clearly seen use as a storage unit for the local constabulary for some time, as the inmate's gear is stored in an open crate in the middle of the room. Located on the second floor of the squat, square tower, thick stone walls and iron grates separate the Tower's three cells, all of which are occupied. In the westerly cell, an elf and a woman play at dice and mutter in the musical cadence of thieves cant, discussing plans and future escape. In the northerly cell, two humans, one with angelic features and metal armor, and the other in robes, gingerly check themselves for bruises and scrapes from their rough, and recent, incarceration. In the easterly cell, a short-statured fellow dressed in rags sleeps with soft breaths, back to the other cells and facing the wall.
The guards have largely left the room and gone to patrol or to sleep downstairs, secure in the belief that these prisoners can effect no escape...
"Quite a mess we've landed ourselves in, eh? Who could have thought that the mob would be that fired up by the little trick of mine? You'd think that the villager from this sleepy little town would be a bit calmer, right Vivian?" says a main in flamboyant and colorful clothes to the woman next to him. "Really, they just seem to love overreacting."
Though the conversation was quite casual, Cyndril's idle chatter served dual purposes. First, he wanted test to the deepness of the guard's sleep. Though the man didn't seem particularly vigilant, it never hurt to check. If a bit of talk could wake him, then trying to escape would be much riskier. Secondly, the performer wanted to disguise his eavesdropping on the two other prisoners of this dreary prison, as he too understood the intricacies of the language of the rogues. Though he faced his twin sister, the wizard instead was listening intently to the conversation of the elf and woman in the other cell.
Vivian's stern gaze fell upon Cyndril, her golden blonde hair cascading around her shoulders like a radiant halo. Her bright blue eyes, filled with a mix of exasperation and concern, seemed to hold an otherworldly light within them, a reflection of her celestial heritage. She let out a deep sigh, her voice carrying a hint of frustration as she responded, "This is no time for jests, Cyndril. We find ourselves in quite the mess, and your little trick has only escalated matters further. These townsfolk may be simple, but they don't take kindly to being deceived."
She was clad in well-taken care of mail armor with a tabard on top adorned with intricate patterns and symbols of the Great Sanctuary of the Eternal Light that she hailed from dedicated to Aetheris, the Divine Luminescence, Vivian exuded an aura of strength and divine grace despite her dreary circumstances. Her gaze briefly flickered towards the sleeping guard, ensuring their conversation remained low and private. Vivian continued, her tone carrying a sense of urgency this time addressing the other prisoners, "We must focus on finding a way out of here, but it won't be easy with the whole town against us. We need a plan, a way to prove our innocence and clear our names before things spiral even further out of control."
Spoilers are for DM and Shavaris-
"The first thing I'm doing when we get out of here is is pulling Simech's guts out with a fork like they're noodles."
Margarette whispers in Elvish to her companion as she picks up the dice and shakes them back and forth in her hand, trying to mask her whispering with the sound of clacking dice.
"Should have known that bastard would hold a grudge. We clear?"
Margarette stands, still clacking the dice in her hand, and then looks up and down the hall, seeing that they're now alone. She quickly moves back over to Shavaris and throws the dice on the ground.
"Keep making the noise for a second. If I can't get it, you'll have to help me..."
She plops down next to her friend and starts untying one of her boots. She slips it off fast, looks to make sure she's not being watched, and then holds it up where she can see the sole. There's a nail in the heal that has been working its way out for weeks that she has neglected to fix. Now she's glad she didn't. She grimaces as she raises the boot to her mouth and grips the stud with her teeth before pulling it free, then hides it in her top before taking a second to put her boot back on and return to the cell door to scan one more time to see if anyone is around. Satisfied that they're still alone, she reaches through the bars and slips the nail into the lock and begins trying to pick it..
Margarette attempts to pick the lock with the cobbler's nail.
Dexterity Check: 15
DM, let me know if there's something else you'd prefer I do!
DM of AURYN: The Measure of Devotion - Escape from New York
The elf's ears twitch as she listens to the conversation in the next cell and is amused at her friend as she continues to pretend to play dice. She wonders what little trick they pulled off and how easily townsfolk here were willing to lock people up. Looking around at the cell area, she figures it must have been more than a little trick as it appeared that these cells were more used as storage instead of a cells. And at that she looks towards the easterly cell, wondering what the snoozing dwarf did to get himself locked up.
She knows what happened to them, and the tips of her pierced long ears tinge with pink as the anger as she thinks about it. Shavaris wears a worn set of black leather armor, her auburn hair cut short with a shock of blond running through it.
Pulling her attention back to her friend, she smirks and replies in elvish.
"Crystal. Though honestly I feel like we're just adding Simech's name to an ever growing list."
Her smirk grows into a full smile as Margarette pulls out a nail from her boot, but continues to clatter along with the dice.
"Impressive" then realizing she spoke in common, she looks over to the two that are awake to see if they noticed. Either way, she turns back to Marg, waiting to see if her luck has turned.
Cyndril:
Speaking loudly as you are, nothing but a muffled snore replies from downstairs. Your neighbor in the easterly cell is unresponsive.
Margarette:
A 15 will just do it!
Those who have a passive perception of greater than 12 hear a soft click and notice the roguish woman in the westerly cell quietly fiddling with her boot while the lock of her door hangs suspiciously loose... There is no reaction from the guards downstairs or from the sleeping dwarf.
"I can't believe that worked." Margarette says out loud in Common for everyone to hear as the lock pops open and she sticks her head out into the corridor. She motions for Shavaris to join her as she looks around, casting a glance back and forth to look for the guards as well as their cache of confiscated equipment.
Perception Roll: 9
Passive Perception: 15
DM of AURYN: The Measure of Devotion - Escape from New York
Noticing the loose cell door, Cyndril gets up from the dusty floor and pats his robes down, then whispers to the woman looking around. "Why, hello there friend. I see you've gotten yourselves out of this shared predicament of ours. Why don't you do me a favor and fiddle with the lock to this cell as well? Or maybe just pass along that ingenious little tool you've got there so I can do it myself."
Vivian's gaze flickered between Cyndril and the two that exited their cell, uncertainty etched across her features. She understood the allure of freedom that beckoned from the neighbouring loose cell door, but the weight of their situation hung heavy upon her conscience. The risk of attempting a jailbreak without concrete evidence of their innocence was not one she was willing to take lightly. The desire for freedom clashed with her unwavering commitment to justice. She knew that escaping now might only deepen the suspicions against them, making it even more challenging to clear their names in the eyes of the townsfolk. Regardless, she could not live her brother alone and the cell was quite dreary...
Shavaris follows Margarette out of the cell and hearing no noise from the guards downstairs, she reaches for Marge's hand and removes the nail from it. Nodding towards the crate in the middle of the cells that look like it might be holding their equipment, she turns towards the cell with the two talkers.
She eyes Cyndril quizzically as she considers his words, the nail flipping along her fingers as she does. Pausing for a moment, she whispers, "Why? What's in it for us?" She smiles, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes, "Friend eh? is that what we are? I'm curious as to what little trick you played to inspire a mob? Hmm.. I do want to hear that tale." The smile reaches her eyes as she attempts to use the nail as Marge did.
Sleight of Hand to unlock their gate with the nail - 22
Margarette hands the nail off with no issue, and is pleased when Shavaris starts the same line of inquiry she herself would have started. She keeps her head on a swivel as she moves to the crate and starts digging through it, fishing out her equipment; rapiers, crossbow, bolts, a knife...and then she starts pulling Shavaris's stuff free. She looks over her shoulder as she works, watching her friend pop the lock on the cell door, as well as watching for any unwanted company.
For Shavaris in Elvish-
"I'll bring your stuff to you. The cell at the end there, with the Dwarf or whatever he is. What's his deal?"
She slowly starts down the hall with Shavaris's stuff and hands it off, then finds the corridor and takes a peak while booting the end of her crossbow and loading a bolt into it. She scans for company...
DM of AURYN: The Measure of Devotion - Escape from New York
Shavaris unlocks the door with suspiciously smooth gestures and it softly clicks open.
No response yet from downstairs, though your instincts tell you that the moment of calm might change at any moment.
As you root around through the pile of equipment, you are able to pretty easily distinguish what belongs to you and Shivaris from the two talkers in the northerly cell. There doesn't seem to be anything in the crate belonging to the sleeping dwarf, and no coins at all in the entire crate, if you had any to hand when you were arrested.
" 'preciate the assistance. I'll tell you the story of how we got in her after we're out properly. All's quiet for now, but that'll never hold. Better to not get caught again, eh?"
The wizard quietly slides open the cell door, gesturing for its other occupant to follow as he saunters over to the woman searching through a crate and follows suit, rifling through it for his belongings.
As Cyndril pulls out his wand and places his prized Dragonchess set into his pack, he speaks the two escapees in fluent Elvish. "You should be a bit more careful about where you speak. These walls have ears, you know."
Margarette glances over her shoulder as the man speaks in Elvish. She shows little emotion.
"Was worth a try." She says with a shrug. She keeps watching down the hall while she waits for them to determine what's going on with the Dwarf. "Shavaris, we'll go when you're ready. Right down this hall. I'll take the left wall if you want to go down the right. Press straight down the corridor where the guards went."
DM of AURYN: The Measure of Devotion - Escape from New York
Shavaris smirks at the wizard as he speaks in elvish, "Good to know, thanks" back to him in elvish.
Turning to her friend she whispers, "Hang on, you've peaked my curiosity." And Shavaris heads over to the sleeping dwarf after taking her equipment from Margarette, crouches down and taps on his shoulder through the cell bars. "Shhh.. so tell me, what's your deal?"
The dwarf does not respond, though as you study him, you realize that there might be more than sleep at play.
It no longer appears that the dwarf is breathing.
As Cyndril slid open the cell door and gestured for her to follow, Vivian stepped out of the shadow of their cell, her movements graceful and deliberate. She remained alert, keenly aware of their surroundings and the need for discretion. Vivian approached Margarette and Shavaris with a mixture of caution and courtesy. She gave a respectful nod to Margarette, acknowledging her presence, and then turned her attention to Shavaris. Her voice held a touch of warmth and gratitude as she spoke, "Thank you both for your assistance. We are grateful for any aid in this dire situation."
As the dwarf remained unresponsive, Vivian's concern deepened. She took a quick glance at Shavaris. She recognized the stillness that enveloped him, the lack of breath in his chest. A solemn realization washed over her. "He... he is no longer with us," Vivian whispered, her voice filled with a mixture of sadness and reverence. She placed a hand over her heart, her eyes closing momentarily as she offered a silent prayer for the departed soul. "May his spirit find peace and solace in the embrace of the divine."
With her prayer done. Her voice, usually calm and composed, now carried a tinge of righteous indignation as she spoke in a hushed whisper. "This is an outrage! To treat a fellow being with such callous disregard, to let him perish in these confines... it is unconscionable." Vivian's hands clenched into fists at her sides. This injustice will not stand, not on her watch. "This cannot go unpunished!"
With purpose, Vivian picked up her affairs and was the first to lead at the front of the group with her shield and spear in case of an attack.
Seeing no motion from the dwarf, Shavaris stands up looking down at the dwarf, wondering why he was in here in the first place. She hears Vivian and looks at her, a curious expression on the elf's face as the Vivian makes her prayer. Then almost taken aback as the righteous indignation follows it. "You're an interesting one." is all she says.
Getting back towards the crate where the loot was held, Shav unsheathes her short swords, nodding towards Margarette, "On your right, got it" and smiles as the paladin charges down the middle.
Cyndril motions to his sister while making an exaggerated expression of exasperation. "She's simply like that sometimes. It's just the consequence of a poorly lived childhood."
The wizard is content to follow and hide behind the others, eyes darting back and forth with wand and rapier in hand.
Perception: 11
Stealth: 18
Passive: 14
Margarette moves up, watching as blondie moves ahead after some show of exasperation over the dead Dwarf. It's a prison, after all. What does she think happens in these places? This is the second time she's been to a shithole like this and it's been the same both times.
The group moves forward, the heavily armed lady up front, with Shavaris and Margarette following close behind. Margarette keeps her crossbow raised and ready as she scans the corridor ahead until they get to...
Perception: 18
Passive: 15
Where's this corridor go? What do we find?
DM of AURYN: The Measure of Devotion - Escape from New York