This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
The cell door opens with its characteristic groan and in trudge the five members of the work crew who have spent the last eight hours doing the bidding of their drow captors. Derendil, Szefarian, Shuushar, Treacle, and Stool retreat to their accustomed spots in the prisoner pen. Knowing the routine of Velkynvelve all too well, the four members of the next work group ready themselves to leave the cave: Eldeth, Zilly, Sarith, and Tarnstrack. The cell door is shut with a loud clang, and two quaggoths lead the work party to whatever meaningless task awaits them…
After the quaggoths and the departing work crew are out of earshot, Jimjar breaks the silence.“Five gold pieces on Sarith losing his composure this shift. The fellow is ready to snap; I can see it in his eyes. He’d rather die here than be dragged to Menzoberranzan. Who’ll take the bet?”
Ront, in his rudimentary Common, responds,“Five gold? You don’t have it. Lose bet, and I give you five bruises. Win bet, and I give you same. Sarith not snap. Sarith too small of heart to fight.”
“Ah, my excellent orc, how could I resist such an alluring opportunity?” returns Jimjar sarcastically.
Ront picks up a handful of small rocks and pelts Jimjar, who merely turns away with a satisfied chuckle.
The rest of the prisoners* ignore the back-and-forth between the svirfneblin and the orc, either too tired to do so or too concerned that their involvement in it could cause things to escalate. Everyone knows that out of sight and not far from the cell door stands at least one drow warrior, undoubtedly armed with a crossbow loaded with a poison-tipped bolt. No need to irritate him, whoever it is.
In the prisoner cave for the next eight hours, until their work shift commences are Buppido, Jimjar, Ront, Monar, and Varis.
In the prisoner cave for the next sixteen hours because they just returned from their shift are Derendil, Shuushar, Stool, Treacle, and Szefarian.
Now on their way to doing tasks somewhere in Velkynvelve are Eldeth, Sarith, Tarnstrak, and Zilly. Eldeth and Sarith are quickly directed to fill water barrels from the waterfall. Tarnstrack and Zilly are ordered to empty every chamber pot in Velkynvelve. The downside to this task needs no explanation; the upside is that those assigned to it must access nearly every room in Velkynvelve, which does allow for easy reconnaissance. One quaggoth guard, disinterested, follows Tarnstrack and Zilly as they go about their task.
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*All prisoners wear iron slave collars along with manacles connected to iron belts by a short length of chain. This creates the following limitations:
Attack rolls against prisoners are done w/ advantage; attack rolls by prisoners are made w/ disadvantage
Prisoners have disadvantage on all DEX saving throws
A few things you have gleaned about Velkynvelve since your arrival:
All prisoners will be taken to Menzoberranzan, the City of Spiders, as soon as a contingent of drow from that city arrive in Velkynvelve. The drow themselves have talked openly about this in front of the prisoners.
The contingent from Menzoberranzan should have arrived a few days ago, according to Sarith (who rarely speaks at all).
The number of drow at the Velkynvelve outpost is somewhere between 17 and 20, the bulk of whom are warriors.
In addition to the drow, roughly a dozen quaggoths are in Velkynvelve.
The extensive network of webs in and around Velkynvelve suggests a number of giant spiders are lurking about as well.
Monar arrived in Velkynvelve 6 days ago. While tasked with oiling the crank mechanism for the lift, he found a rusty iron bar that he managed to sneak back to the prisoners’ cave. So far, he’s succeeded in keeping the bar hidden from the guards as well as the other prisoners.
Szefarian arrived in Velkynvelve 10 days ago, and while filling barrels at the waterfall he found a 5’ length of silk rope float on the bridge. Keeping it hidden around his waist has been a simple matter.
Varis arrived in Velkynvelve 2 days ago. While dumping garbage in the pool, he found a large bone shard that could serve as a makeshift dagger. The shard has been tucked away in a cleft in the cave wall.
Zillyarrived in Velkynvelve 5 days ago. While tasked with cleaning the drow barracks, he found an opportune moment to snatch a tiny vial of drow poison. Stowing it within his clothing has been a success thus far.
Szefarian, after a few moments of lamenting life and letting his welts throb, slowly drags himself over to the Quaggoth "prince." Settling facedown, his forehead propped upon his fellow prisoner's leg, he states rather humorously: "At the very least, o' Prince, you've been given a body better suited to do this than your noble self. Could you imagine lifting boulders as you do with your original body?" He tries chuckling, a sad mistake. "Urk. At the very least, you can live to see another day..."
Monar, a bugbear with a strong intimidating presence, dark brown shaggy hair and golden eyes watches the exchange between Jimjar and Ront, eyes darting between the two as they talk. He snorts derisively at the mention of Sarith and the bet.
"He ain't going to Menzoberranzan. Ain't none of us going there," he says quietly but insistently. He looks across at the gambling addict with a sly grin. "Hey Jimjar. You wanna bet on something? I bet that five gold ye're so fond of that ye canny keep that gob o'yours shut until they get back off their shift." He shifts his position a little, accompanied by a soft clanking of chains. "They're gonna try and take us there though," he continues returning to his first comment. "Well, I ain't going with 'em, one way or another...." and he drifts back into his own thoughts.
Zilly will go about the task as expected, not trying to draw any attention to himself, but in no rush either.
“So Tarnstak, I have no interest in being a prisoner in Menzoberranzan, I’m guessing you don’t either. Any thoughts on how we can escape this place?”
As we go about our business, Zilly is looking for anything that may be useful, especially a dart or hand crossbow bolt that he can apply his poison to or perhaps a water flask he can dump it into, or food the drow eat that he can poison.
Additionally, while in Ilvara’s quarters, he will work a bit slower, looking for anything helpful, especially something that can open the manacles, keys, lockpicks, etc.
In the prisoners' cave: SZEFARIAN, MONAR, and VARIS
Derendil nods and in polished Elvish replies, "Indeed. The elvish frame of Prince Derendil of the kingdom of Nelrindenvane would not have borne this well. But this strength of bone and flesh makes me a baser creature..."
The quaggoth's voice trails off for several seconds before continuing, "...the wizard who cursed me, she will reckon with my claws...soon..."
Derendil then holds his clawed hand aloft and emits a fearsome, rage-filled growl that prompts the drow guard to call out, "Silence, you fool!"
Ront's guffaw fills the cave, "Ha, bet on Jimjar's big gob. HA! HA! Bugbear win that gold easy. HA! HA!"
Jimjar offers no response; he merely picks up a small sharp stone and uses it to clean the dirt from beneath his fingernails. Monar's assertion that he won't be going to Menzoberranzan does cause Treacle, one of the twins, to perk up. "Easier to escape a drow outpost than a drow city, yes? Tarnstrak and I are ready. Very ready."
"Buppido ready as well, Monar," chimes the derro, speaking in the third person. "Buppido thinks he has key to unlock gate. Yes, yes, yes. The key to unlock gate is Jorlan."
_______________________________
Outside the prisoners' cave: ZILLY
"Surprise and violence," responds Tarnstrak. "We must catch them unaware...while they eat, perhaps...and then allow Ront and Derendil...and Monar and Szefarian to fall upon the guards with violence. And it must be soon, for I fear what will happen to me and Treacle otherwise."
Taking special care to observe what is within Ilvara's quarters, Zilly studies the room. The walls are hung with black mesh resembling a spider’s web, extending from a central spot on the ceiling out to the walls, then draped down like curtains. Thick, woven mats cover the floor, while a low platform is covered with cushions and pillows to make a broad, divan-like bed. One side of the chamber contains a small table and two chairs, while the other holds a small shrine to Lolth, draped in white silk. A heavy chest of black-stained zurkhwood sits at the foot of the bed. This chest is the source of the rumors among the prisoners that valuables are locked within it.
A side table holds a small silver-framed mirror. Additionally, the room contains a small shrine to Lolth, carved of zurkhwood and bone, and inlaid with semiprecious stones. Zilly sees nothing useful for an escape, only valuables.
Varis tries to lean comfortably against the cavern wall, conserving his energy before his turn at work detail inevitably comes with the next shift. The pale skinned elf has unkempt black hair and his once fine clothes are soiled and worn but still in decent shape, a clear sign that he has not been in the slave pens long. In fact, Varis was the newest arrival and he has spent the last three days trying to get the lay of the land and get to know his fellow prisoners, and his captives. This place was just as full of intrigue and plots as the court back in Silverymoon, and he was focused on learning who the key players among the Drow were and what they wanted.
He looks up and sighs as Szefarian talks with the quaggoth. “Please, don’t get him started again.” Varis has heard the story several times over the last three days. He looks over at the quaggoth. “The kingdom of Nelrindenvane? I am afraid I am not familiar, where is it located? A subject of the High Forest, the city of Evereska, or elsewhere? And what house are you of, if you are a prince, who is your king?” He turns back to Szefarian and snorts “He is no more an elven prince than I am a black dragon.”
He drops the matter as the guard outside shouts, but he perks up and turns his attention to Buppido as the Derro mentions a key. “Tell me more, friend. Who is Jorlan, and what makes them so important?”
Within the prisoners' cave: MONAR, SZEFARIAN, and VARIS
Derendil sets his eyes upon Varis and a low rumble can be heard coming from the quaggoth's throat before he speaks, once again in Elvish. "THE HIGH FOREST! And that you know very well!"
Derendil rises to his feet as if he will approach Varis, but suddenly he pauses as a telepathic voice crashes in upon everyone's mind: Let not the cruelty of our captors shape us into their likeness. Our words and deeds must be beacons of light in this darkness.
The words are Shuushar's. The telepathic conduit is Stool, who at Shuushar's prompting has filled the cave with rapport spores. A telepathic stream of consciousness quickly fills everyone's head...
Ront: Way of peace is way of coward's death, silly kuo-toa. Buppido: The mystic speaks the truth, Prince Derendil! Resist the urge to be like those quaggoths outside! Derendil: My claws will silence the unbelievers! The arrogant Varis dies first! Treacle: Calm him, Shuushar! He endangers all of us! Jimjar: Derendil or Varis? My money's on the furry elf. Shuushar: Varis is not your foe, Derendil. You see Varis and long to be who you once were. The anger and confusion within is your true enemy. Derendil: (indecipherable) Shuushar: Patience...reflection... Ront: Patience.Reflection. No different than shackes and chains.
Seemingly uninterested in being part of the telepathic circle any longer, Buppido moves toward Varis, leans in and says, "Jorlan has lost his favor with the Mistress. I see it all. Jorlan has welts upon his cheeks and walks alone now. Mistress has a new pet. Lieutenant Shoor. Jorlan no longer visits the Mistress's quarters. I see it all. Jorlan is the key. Yes."
As Derendil stands quite suddenly, he throws Szefarian from his leg, the now ex-slaver bouncing and rolling to a painful stop a few feet away.
"Ow." His voice is monotone, mostly from the strain of dealing with these fools daily. The pain's there, but he wishes he wasn't. It wasn't the atmosphere, nor the work necessarily. Hells, he didn't mind the drow, either. A crack of the whip, screams of prisoners, the general feel of people's souls rotting in confinement – he'd lived with that kind of atmosphere for years in his previous occupation. It was like a fine currant wine, sharp and bitter, but sweet with time and a wonderful way to enjoy sleep.
Monar glares at Derendil. "I ain't caring what you are, m'lord, but how's about keeping that sweet revenge of yours until we're all out of here, eh? Then you got all the freedom you want to go to town on Varis." His eyes land on Buppido. "Jorlan eh?" he ponders softly, his deep voice rumbling from his throat. "Sounds like he's a bit of a spurned lover," and he grins. "He could be easily swayed to stick it to his Mistress. We should offer to help him with that."
"We should have been transported by now. That means we ain't got much time to get out of this hole. We gotta be ready to take our chance when it comes." His large hands clench into fists. "And I'm just itching to knock a few of them Drow heads together."
Zilly will not attempt to take any of the valuables, but makes note of them, especially any books or scrolls.
In the main hall, he will look to see if there is a water, or wine source. Water comes from the waterfall; does it then get stored in a barrel? etc. somewhere that may be effective for his poison.
He will also take note of the controls for the Lift to determine a way to control/block/break them if needed during an escape.
As he goes about his work, he will hum the goblin lullaby that he was listening to when he got captured by the drow.
Within the prisoners' cave: MONAR, SZEFARIAN, and VARIS
The time remaining until the next shift change passes without incident, as the prisoners either sit awake in morose silence or pass the time with fitful sleep. Varis, as elves do, spends a few hours in a meditative trance, which not only gives him the rest he needs but grants him a temporary escape from his unpleasant circumstances.
Monar drifts off for a short while, but once again awakens after an unsettling and oft recurring dream: oily tentacles attempt to wrap around him, and in the distance are sounds of buzzing and howling...
Likewise, Szefarian sits up rapidly after being asleep for a few hours. Twice since arriving in Velkynvelve, the yuan-ti has awakened with grim thoughts from a bizarre dream: wounds upon his arms and legs suddenly burst open, allowing sickly green clouds of spores to spew forth...
Since arriving in Velkynvelve, your observations of the other prisoners have assured you that they too suffer from dreams both eerie and ominous.
Outside the prisoners' cave: ZILLY
Zilly confirms that water gathered from the waterfall is kept in barrels in the main hall. The drow and quaggoths then fill their individual waterskins or pitchers from those barrels. The small vial of drow poison would likely be too diluted if poured in a barrel. If, however, the vial could be emptied into a waterskin, then the results might be quite different.
The lift is operated by a simple crank mechanism that one of the quaggoths is tasked with turning. A thick strand of spider silk, rather than rope, is wound around the crank and attached to the top of the lift. More evidence that giant spiders are in the vicinity.
The only other thing of note during his shift is a fragment of conversation (in Undercommon) that Zilly hears among a few of the drow warriors. In short, the warriors suspect the drow party from Menzobarranzan will not arrive because some mishap has occurred. One of the warriors then suggests that Ilvara will send Jorlan to find the missing drow party members. This suggestion is met with a good deal of laughter.
Eldeth, Sarith, Tarnstrak, and Zilly return to the cave, which indicates that food for all prisoners will be delivered soon...
Varis shrugs his shoulders and meets the gaze of the quaggoth. “Why did the witch curse you, was it that temper of yours?” He sighs and raises his hands in mock surrender “They are right, I am not your enemy. They are..” he points back toward the Drow guarding the slave pen. “I want to get out of here as much as the rest of you and there is little time for patience. We need to leave before the other party arrives, we can use their delay to our advantage.” He quiets down and spends the time resting, thinking about how to use this new information on Jorlan to his advantage.
He stirs as the work party returns to the cavern, getting ready for his turn at work detail and wondering where he would be sent today. You could find some interesting junk to salvage if you paid attention.
Szefarian sits up and draws another deep breath. He can't see himself, what for a lack of mirrors, but he's certain he has left himself looking quite aghast. He takes his time to (try to) fix his naturally wavy hair, though he can only get so much of it adjusted, and uses the oil of his unwashed skin to (attempt to) straighten his moustache, yet again to limited affect.
Damn these restraints.
He looks about, waiting. For what, he has no clue. Though he suspects it may be time to get into that bugbear's good graces. Two large, potentially brutish creatures, somewhat inclined to give aid when the time is right? It seems only natural to seek physical strength in a time like this. But first, the food needs to come...
As he enters the cell, Zilly says “Another pleasant shift in Drow land. Good to see everyone is still in one piece.” Lowering his voice he adds, “I heard that the party from Menzoberranzan may not show up, not sure if that is good or bad for us.”
Zilly drops to his butt on the floor, leaning against the cell wall. “Oh, also, some of them were making fun of someone named Jorlan, whoever that is.”
He then closes his eyes and dreams of a nice hot bath.
With the flurry of activity signalling the return of the work party, Monar rises to his feet and clanks slowly across the prison to the cell gate, trying to peer out into the cave complex. He looks from side to side then calls out into the cave.
"Hey Jorlan! Hurry up with that food. You got hungry folk in here. You want us to work for you, you better be feeding us proper!" He rattles the bars gently and scans the cave again. "You hear me, Jorlan?"
Monar's taunt prompts the drow guard (who is not Jorlan) to respond in rather rough Common, "Do you hear, Jorlan? Even prisoner dimwit sees what you are now!"
The guard, whose voice gives him away as Imbros (one of the drow warriors), chuckles momentarily before continuing. "Jorlan, fallen lover and feeder of prisoners, approaches."
The sound of footsteps and the rattle of tin dishware reaches everyone's ears in the cave, which indicates that meal time has arrived. It is no quaggoth that enters with the food tray; it is Jorlan himself, humiliated and dejected. Feeding the prisoners is a task for the lowest among Velkynvelve. Jorlan's appearance in the cave prompts the normally silent Sarith to remark in Undercommon (for those who understand), "Soon, Jorlan, you will be one of us."
Jorlan takes several steps into the cave, sets down the tray of food scraps, and says in a whisper in Elvish, "Thirty minutes. Prepare yourselves."
He then turns abruptly and exits the cave, allowing Imbros to slam the gate shut behind him.
Jorlan's cryptic words take on a new meaning when Eldeth grabs the pitcher to pour herself some water. A small bundle tumbles out of the vessel instead; it's a dark piece of cloth tightly rolled and bound with string. Somewhat hesitantly the shield dwarf reveals the contents of the bundle: an amulet that Monar recognizes as his, a crystal that belongs to Varis, Zilly's harmonica, and two keys of different sizes.
Sarith mutters, "Jorlan will surely die for this."
"Or the one he attempts to frame," responds Buppido with a hint of glee in his voice.
"Next work crew leaves in thirty minutes!" yells Imbros from outside the cave. "Eat up, worms, and be ready!"
Zilly takes his harmonica and puts it up to his lips, dying to play the lullaby that has been stuck in his head for the last four days, but knows better, and quickly puts it in a pocket.
Feeling like the time to act is upon them, he starts whispering to a small group…
“I don’t know about you all, but I’m done being a prisoner here, it’s time to act. It sounds like this Jorlan is about to set things in motion, so let’s prepare. Hopefully in a short time we will have these manacles off and be free of this place. We’ll be welcome back in Blingdenstone. And we can make it there! …”
Zilly goes on for ten minutes with a truly inspiring speech!
The following get 5 temp HPs due to Inspiring Leader. (assuming its allowed in this place)
The gnome's speech is... interesting. It's missing talk of bloodshed, retribution, and reveling in one's enemy's suffering, but he can't complain with the result.
He turns to Derendil, exposing serpentine fangs with a devilish smile below cold eyes, and speaks to the "Prince" in a guttural yet fluent Elvish, previously unspoken by him. "What say you, O' Prince, accursed? Do we fight? Kill? What horror shall we inflict on our captors?"
All those targeted by Zilly's words sense a slight increase in their battle prowess, and Derendilnods at Szefarian knowingly. "The Prince shall not behave so nobly in the hours ahead..."
The quaggoth then holds forth his manacled wrists and utters, "The key."
The voice of Shuushar, the kuo-toa mystic, reaches everyone telepathically (once again indicating that Stool has released rapport spores). Consider carefully, friends, what you are about to do. Look around this cave and ask yourselves if you are willing to risk the lives of one another.
Ront, a dwarf hater through and through, points at Eldeth. I risk her life happily.
The shield dwarf shakes her head and offers a platitude in return. A fool's threat will be answered with a dwarven hammer.
Monar looks a little confused at the sudden arrival of Jorlar, unable to understand the exchange. His face brightens as the small bundle is undone by Eldeth. "Well, sod me. That's a sight and no mistake."
He scoops up the amulet and quickly secrets it in his clothing. His grin grows wider as Zilly explains what has just happened. At the voice of Shuushar in his head he stares at the mystic in disdain, then looks at Sarith. "You're coming with me, fella, and I ain't letting you out of my sight." He lowers his voice and his face becomes a picture of determination. "I promise each and every one of you, I'm getting out of here today, or I'll die trying. If you have my back, I'll have yours," and he turns his scornful gaze back to Shuushar, "unless you want to stay and continue to enjoy the wonderful hospitality?"
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The cell door opens with its characteristic groan and in trudge the five members of the work crew who have spent the last eight hours doing the bidding of their drow captors. Derendil, Szefarian, Shuushar, Treacle, and Stool retreat to their accustomed spots in the prisoner pen. Knowing the routine of Velkynvelve all too well, the four members of the next work group ready themselves to leave the cave: Eldeth, Zilly, Sarith, and Tarnstrack. The cell door is shut with a loud clang, and two quaggoths lead the work party to whatever meaningless task awaits them…
After the quaggoths and the departing work crew are out of earshot, Jimjar breaks the silence.“Five gold pieces on Sarith losing his composure this shift. The fellow is ready to snap; I can see it in his eyes. He’d rather die here than be dragged to Menzoberranzan. Who’ll take the bet?”
Ront, in his rudimentary Common, responds, “Five gold? You don’t have it. Lose bet, and I give you five bruises. Win bet, and I give you same. Sarith not snap. Sarith too small of heart to fight.”
“Ah, my excellent orc, how could I resist such an alluring opportunity?” returns Jimjar sarcastically.
Ront picks up a handful of small rocks and pelts Jimjar, who merely turns away with a satisfied chuckle.
The rest of the prisoners* ignore the back-and-forth between the svirfneblin and the orc, either too tired to do so or too concerned that their involvement in it could cause things to escalate. Everyone knows that out of sight and not far from the cell door stands at least one drow warrior, undoubtedly armed with a crossbow loaded with a poison-tipped bolt. No need to irritate him, whoever it is.
In the prisoner cave for the next eight hours, until their work shift commences are Buppido, Jimjar, Ront, Monar, and Varis.
In the prisoner cave for the next sixteen hours because they just returned from their shift are Derendil, Shuushar, Stool, Treacle, and Szefarian.
Now on their way to doing tasks somewhere in Velkynvelve are Eldeth, Sarith, Tarnstrak, and Zilly. Eldeth and Sarith are quickly directed to fill water barrels from the waterfall. Tarnstrack and Zilly are ordered to empty every chamber pot in Velkynvelve. The downside to this task needs no explanation; the upside is that those assigned to it must access nearly every room in Velkynvelve, which does allow for easy reconnaissance. One quaggoth guard, disinterested, follows Tarnstrack and Zilly as they go about their task.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
*All prisoners wear iron slave collars along with manacles connected to iron belts by a short length of chain. This creates the following limitations:
A few things you have gleaned about Velkynvelve since your arrival:
Monar arrived in Velkynvelve 6 days ago. While tasked with oiling the crank mechanism for the lift, he found a rusty iron bar that he managed to sneak back to the prisoners’ cave. So far, he’s succeeded in keeping the bar hidden from the guards as well as the other prisoners.
Szefarian arrived in Velkynvelve 10 days ago, and while filling barrels at the waterfall he found a 5’ length of silk rope float on the bridge. Keeping it hidden around his waist has been a simple matter.
Varis arrived in Velkynvelve 2 days ago. While dumping garbage in the pool, he found a large bone shard that could serve as a makeshift dagger. The shard has been tucked away in a cleft in the cave wall.
Zilly arrived in Velkynvelve 5 days ago. While tasked with cleaning the drow barracks, he found an opportune moment to snatch a tiny vial of drow poison. Stowing it within his clothing has been a success thus far.
Szefarian, after a few moments of lamenting life and letting his welts throb, slowly drags himself over to the Quaggoth "prince." Settling facedown, his forehead propped upon his fellow prisoner's leg, he states rather humorously: "At the very least, o' Prince, you've been given a body better suited to do this than your noble self. Could you imagine lifting boulders as you do with your original body?" He tries chuckling, a sad mistake. "Urk. At the very least, you can live to see another day..."
Monar, a bugbear with a strong intimidating presence, dark brown shaggy hair and golden eyes watches the exchange between Jimjar and Ront, eyes darting between the two as they talk. He snorts derisively at the mention of Sarith and the bet.
"He ain't going to Menzoberranzan. Ain't none of us going there," he says quietly but insistently. He looks across at the gambling addict with a sly grin. "Hey Jimjar. You wanna bet on something? I bet that five gold ye're so fond of that ye canny keep that gob o'yours shut until they get back off their shift." He shifts his position a little, accompanied by a soft clanking of chains. "They're gonna try and take us there though," he continues returning to his first comment. "Well, I ain't going with 'em, one way or another...." and he drifts back into his own thoughts.
Zilly will go about the task as expected, not trying to draw any attention to himself, but in no rush either.
“So Tarnstak, I have no interest in being a prisoner in Menzoberranzan, I’m guessing you don’t either. Any thoughts on how we can escape this place?”
As we go about our business, Zilly is looking for anything that may be useful, especially a dart or hand crossbow bolt that he can apply his poison to or perhaps a water flask he can dump it into, or food the drow eat that he can poison.
Additionally, while in Ilvara’s quarters, he will work a bit slower, looking for anything helpful, especially something that can open the manacles, keys, lockpicks, etc.
Investigation: 14
Perception: 17
In the prisoners' cave: SZEFARIAN, MONAR, and VARIS
Derendil nods and in polished Elvish replies, "Indeed. The elvish frame of Prince Derendil of the kingdom of Nelrindenvane would not have borne this well. But this strength of bone and flesh makes me a baser creature..."
The quaggoth's voice trails off for several seconds before continuing, "...the wizard who cursed me, she will reckon with my claws...soon..."
Derendil then holds his clawed hand aloft and emits a fearsome, rage-filled growl that prompts the drow guard to call out, "Silence, you fool!"
Ront's guffaw fills the cave, "Ha, bet on Jimjar's big gob. HA! HA! Bugbear win that gold easy. HA! HA!"
Jimjar offers no response; he merely picks up a small sharp stone and uses it to clean the dirt from beneath his fingernails. Monar's assertion that he won't be going to Menzoberranzan does cause Treacle, one of the twins, to perk up. "Easier to escape a drow outpost than a drow city, yes? Tarnstrak and I are ready. Very ready."
"Buppido ready as well, Monar," chimes the derro, speaking in the third person. "Buppido thinks he has key to unlock gate. Yes, yes, yes. The key to unlock gate is Jorlan."
_______________________________
Outside the prisoners' cave: ZILLY
"Surprise and violence," responds Tarnstrak. "We must catch them unaware...while they eat, perhaps...and then allow Ront and Derendil...and Monar and Szefarian to fall upon the guards with violence. And it must be soon, for I fear what will happen to me and Treacle otherwise."
Taking special care to observe what is within Ilvara's quarters, Zilly studies the room. The walls are hung with black mesh resembling a spider’s web, extending from a central spot on the ceiling out to the walls, then draped down like curtains. Thick, woven mats cover the floor, while a low platform is covered with cushions and pillows to make a broad, divan-like bed. One side of the chamber contains a small table and two chairs, while the other holds a small shrine to Lolth, draped in white silk. A heavy chest of black-stained zurkhwood sits at the foot of the bed. This chest is the source of the rumors among the prisoners that valuables are locked within it.
A side table holds a small silver-framed mirror. Additionally, the room contains a small shrine to Lolth, carved of zurkhwood and bone, and inlaid with semiprecious stones. Zilly sees nothing useful for an escape, only valuables.
Varis tries to lean comfortably against the cavern wall, conserving his energy before his turn at work detail inevitably comes with the next shift. The pale skinned elf has unkempt black hair and his once fine clothes are soiled and worn but still in decent shape, a clear sign that he has not been in the slave pens long. In fact, Varis was the newest arrival and he has spent the last three days trying to get the lay of the land and get to know his fellow prisoners, and his captives. This place was just as full of intrigue and plots as the court back in Silverymoon, and he was focused on learning who the key players among the Drow were and what they wanted.
He looks up and sighs as Szefarian talks with the quaggoth. “Please, don’t get him started again.” Varis has heard the story several times over the last three days. He looks over at the quaggoth. “The kingdom of Nelrindenvane? I am afraid I am not familiar, where is it located? A subject of the High Forest, the city of Evereska, or elsewhere? And what house are you of, if you are a prince, who is your king?” He turns back to Szefarian and snorts “He is no more an elven prince than I am a black dragon.”
He drops the matter as the guard outside shouts, but he perks up and turns his attention to Buppido as the Derro mentions a key. “Tell me more, friend. Who is Jorlan, and what makes them so important?”
Within the prisoners' cave: MONAR, SZEFARIAN, and VARIS
Derendil sets his eyes upon Varis and a low rumble can be heard coming from the quaggoth's throat before he speaks, once again in Elvish. "THE HIGH FOREST! And that you know very well!"
Derendil rises to his feet as if he will approach Varis, but suddenly he pauses as a telepathic voice crashes in upon everyone's mind: Let not the cruelty of our captors shape us into their likeness. Our words and deeds must be beacons of light in this darkness.
The words are Shuushar's. The telepathic conduit is Stool, who at Shuushar's prompting has filled the cave with rapport spores. A telepathic stream of consciousness quickly fills everyone's head...
Ront: Way of peace is way of coward's death, silly kuo-toa.
Buppido: The mystic speaks the truth, Prince Derendil! Resist the urge to be like those quaggoths outside!
Derendil: My claws will silence the unbelievers! The arrogant Varis dies first!
Treacle: Calm him, Shuushar! He endangers all of us!
Jimjar: Derendil or Varis? My money's on the furry elf.
Shuushar: Varis is not your foe, Derendil. You see Varis and long to be who you once were. The anger and confusion within is your true enemy.
Derendil: (indecipherable)
Shuushar: Patience...reflection...
Ront: Patience. Reflection. No different than shackes and chains.
Seemingly uninterested in being part of the telepathic circle any longer, Buppido moves toward Varis, leans in and says, "Jorlan has lost his favor with the Mistress. I see it all. Jorlan has welts upon his cheeks and walks alone now. Mistress has a new pet. Lieutenant Shoor. Jorlan no longer visits the Mistress's quarters. I see it all. Jorlan is the key. Yes."
As Derendil stands quite suddenly, he throws Szefarian from his leg, the now ex-slaver bouncing and rolling to a painful stop a few feet away.
"Ow." His voice is monotone, mostly from the strain of dealing with these fools daily. The pain's there, but he wishes he wasn't. It wasn't the atmosphere, nor the work necessarily. Hells, he didn't mind the drow, either. A crack of the whip, screams of prisoners, the general feel of people's souls rotting in confinement – he'd lived with that kind of atmosphere for years in his previous occupation. It was like a fine currant wine, sharp and bitter, but sweet with time and a wonderful way to enjoy sleep.
Monar glares at Derendil. "I ain't caring what you are, m'lord, but how's about keeping that sweet revenge of yours until we're all out of here, eh? Then you got all the freedom you want to go to town on Varis." His eyes land on Buppido. "Jorlan eh?" he ponders softly, his deep voice rumbling from his throat. "Sounds like he's a bit of a spurned lover," and he grins. "He could be easily swayed to stick it to his Mistress. We should offer to help him with that."
"We should have been transported by now. That means we ain't got much time to get out of this hole. We gotta be ready to take our chance when it comes." His large hands clench into fists. "And I'm just itching to knock a few of them Drow heads together."
Zilly will not attempt to take any of the valuables, but makes note of them, especially any books or scrolls.
In the main hall, he will look to see if there is a water, or wine source. Water comes from the waterfall; does it then get stored in a barrel? etc. somewhere that may be effective for his poison.
He will also take note of the controls for the Lift to determine a way to control/block/break them if needed during an escape.
As he goes about his work, he will hum the goblin lullaby that he was listening to when he got captured by the drow.
Within the prisoners' cave: MONAR, SZEFARIAN, and VARIS
The time remaining until the next shift change passes without incident, as the prisoners either sit awake in morose silence or pass the time with fitful sleep. Varis, as elves do, spends a few hours in a meditative trance, which not only gives him the rest he needs but grants him a temporary escape from his unpleasant circumstances.
Monar drifts off for a short while, but once again awakens after an unsettling and oft recurring dream: oily tentacles attempt to wrap around him, and in the distance are sounds of buzzing and howling...
Likewise, Szefarian sits up rapidly after being asleep for a few hours. Twice since arriving in Velkynvelve, the yuan-ti has awakened with grim thoughts from a bizarre dream: wounds upon his arms and legs suddenly burst open, allowing sickly green clouds of spores to spew forth...
Since arriving in Velkynvelve, your observations of the other prisoners have assured you that they too suffer from dreams both eerie and ominous.
Outside the prisoners' cave: ZILLY
Zilly confirms that water gathered from the waterfall is kept in barrels in the main hall. The drow and quaggoths then fill their individual waterskins or pitchers from those barrels. The small vial of drow poison would likely be too diluted if poured in a barrel. If, however, the vial could be emptied into a waterskin, then the results might be quite different.
The lift is operated by a simple crank mechanism that one of the quaggoths is tasked with turning. A thick strand of spider silk, rather than rope, is wound around the crank and attached to the top of the lift. More evidence that giant spiders are in the vicinity.
The only other thing of note during his shift is a fragment of conversation (in Undercommon) that Zilly hears among a few of the drow warriors. In short, the warriors suspect the drow party from Menzobarranzan will not arrive because some mishap has occurred. One of the warriors then suggests that Ilvara will send Jorlan to find the missing drow party members. This suggestion is met with a good deal of laughter.
Eldeth, Sarith, Tarnstrak, and Zilly return to the cave, which indicates that food for all prisoners will be delivered soon...
Varis shrugs his shoulders and meets the gaze of the quaggoth. “Why did the witch curse you, was it that temper of yours?” He sighs and raises his hands in mock surrender “They are right, I am not your enemy. They are..” he points back toward the Drow guarding the slave pen. “I want to get out of here as much as the rest of you and there is little time for patience. We need to leave before the other party arrives, we can use their delay to our advantage.” He quiets down and spends the time resting, thinking about how to use this new information on Jorlan to his advantage.
He stirs as the work party returns to the cavern, getting ready for his turn at work detail and wondering where he would be sent today. You could find some interesting junk to salvage if you paid attention.
Szefarian sits up and draws another deep breath. He can't see himself, what for a lack of mirrors, but he's certain he has left himself looking quite aghast. He takes his time to (try to) fix his naturally wavy hair, though he can only get so much of it adjusted, and uses the oil of his unwashed skin to (attempt to) straighten his moustache, yet again to limited affect.
Damn these restraints.
He looks about, waiting. For what, he has no clue. Though he suspects it may be time to get into that bugbear's good graces. Two large, potentially brutish creatures, somewhat inclined to give aid when the time is right? It seems only natural to seek physical strength in a time like this. But first, the food needs to come...
As he enters the cell, Zilly says “Another pleasant shift in Drow land. Good to see everyone is still in one piece.” Lowering his voice he adds, “I heard that the party from Menzoberranzan may not show up, not sure if that is good or bad for us.”
Zilly drops to his butt on the floor, leaning against the cell wall. “Oh, also, some of them were making fun of someone named Jorlan, whoever that is.”
He then closes his eyes and dreams of a nice hot bath.
With the flurry of activity signalling the return of the work party, Monar rises to his feet and clanks slowly across the prison to the cell gate, trying to peer out into the cave complex. He looks from side to side then calls out into the cave.
"Hey Jorlan! Hurry up with that food. You got hungry folk in here. You want us to work for you, you better be feeding us proper!" He rattles the bars gently and scans the cave again. "You hear me, Jorlan?"
Monar's taunt prompts the drow guard (who is not Jorlan) to respond in rather rough Common, "Do you hear, Jorlan? Even prisoner dimwit sees what you are now!"
The guard, whose voice gives him away as Imbros (one of the drow warriors), chuckles momentarily before continuing. "Jorlan, fallen lover and feeder of prisoners, approaches."
The sound of footsteps and the rattle of tin dishware reaches everyone's ears in the cave, which indicates that meal time has arrived. It is no quaggoth that enters with the food tray; it is Jorlan himself, humiliated and dejected. Feeding the prisoners is a task for the lowest among Velkynvelve. Jorlan's appearance in the cave prompts the normally silent Sarith to remark in Undercommon (for those who understand), "Soon, Jorlan, you will be one of us."
Jorlan takes several steps into the cave, sets down the tray of food scraps, and says in a whisper in Elvish, "Thirty minutes. Prepare yourselves."
He then turns abruptly and exits the cave, allowing Imbros to slam the gate shut behind him.
Jorlan's cryptic words take on a new meaning when Eldeth grabs the pitcher to pour herself some water. A small bundle tumbles out of the vessel instead; it's a dark piece of cloth tightly rolled and bound with string. Somewhat hesitantly the shield dwarf reveals the contents of the bundle: an amulet that Monar recognizes as his, a crystal that belongs to Varis, Zilly's harmonica, and two keys of different sizes.
Sarith mutters, "Jorlan will surely die for this."
"Or the one he attempts to frame," responds Buppido with a hint of glee in his voice.
"Next work crew leaves in thirty minutes!" yells Imbros from outside the cave. "Eat up, worms, and be ready!"
Zilly takes his harmonica and puts it up to his lips, dying to play the lullaby that has been stuck in his head for the last four days, but knows better, and quickly puts it in a pocket.
Feeling like the time to act is upon them, he starts whispering to a small group…
“I don’t know about you all, but I’m done being a prisoner here, it’s time to act. It sounds like this Jorlan is about to set things in motion, so let’s prepare. Hopefully in a short time we will have these manacles off and be free of this place. We’ll be welcome back in Blingdenstone. And we can make it there! …”
Zilly goes on for ten minutes with a truly inspiring speech!
The following get 5 temp HPs due to Inspiring Leader. (assuming its allowed in this place)
The gnome's speech is... interesting. It's missing talk of bloodshed, retribution, and reveling in one's enemy's suffering, but he can't complain with the result.
He turns to Derendil, exposing serpentine fangs with a devilish smile below cold eyes, and speaks to the "Prince" in a guttural yet fluent Elvish, previously unspoken by him. "What say you, O' Prince, accursed? Do we fight? Kill? What horror shall we inflict on our captors?"
All those targeted by Zilly's words sense a slight increase in their battle prowess, and Derendil nods at Szefarian knowingly. "The Prince shall not behave so nobly in the hours ahead..."
The quaggoth then holds forth his manacled wrists and utters, "The key."
The voice of Shuushar, the kuo-toa mystic, reaches everyone telepathically (once again indicating that Stool has released rapport spores). Consider carefully, friends, what you are about to do. Look around this cave and ask yourselves if you are willing to risk the lives of one another.
Ront, a dwarf hater through and through, points at Eldeth. I risk her life happily.
The shield dwarf shakes her head and offers a platitude in return. A fool's threat will be answered with a dwarven hammer.
Monar looks a little confused at the sudden arrival of Jorlar, unable to understand the exchange. His face brightens as the small bundle is undone by Eldeth. "Well, sod me. That's a sight and no mistake."
He scoops up the amulet and quickly secrets it in his clothing. His grin grows wider as Zilly explains what has just happened. At the voice of Shuushar in his head he stares at the mystic in disdain, then looks at Sarith. "You're coming with me, fella, and I ain't letting you out of my sight." He lowers his voice and his face becomes a picture of determination. "I promise each and every one of you, I'm getting out of here today, or I'll die trying. If you have my back, I'll have yours," and he turns his scornful gaze back to Shuushar, "unless you want to stay and continue to enjoy the wonderful hospitality?"