Escape from the Abyss

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maasnssmaamsm

maasnssmaamsm

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Arpher’s first few days of travel were fairly uneventful. He was simply walking alone for many hours, which gave him good time to meditate. When he set up camp for the second night away from his home, Arpher was truly exhausted. He cooked up some of his food, and quickly got full. His family always did serve him too much food. As he got into his makeshift tent, he began to dream of the new and interesting world that awaited him in Chult. As he drifted off, he felt a sudden stinging sensation in his neck, but sleep overtook him quickly and completely.


This sleep did not feel like any other sleep Arpher had ever had. He couldn’t seem to wake up, and there were no dreams, just nothingness.


He awoke with a start, gasping for breath as he sat up. He could feel that what once was soft grass that he was laying on, was now hard stone. As he went to rub his eyes, he found that his hands were bound with chains. Most importantly for him, though, he could not see. He scrambled to his feet in an attempt to get his bearings, but ran into something large, hairy, and very much alive.


“I see you have awoken, young human,” comes a gruff voice from the darkness, speaking Elvish. Now that Arpher is a bit more awake, he can hear more quiet talking around him, but none of it discernable at this point. “I am Prince Derendil,” the deep voice continues, “of the kingdom of Nelrindenvane.” You recognize that name as sounding like one of the elven kingdoms you have studied. "It seems we are cell mates," he growls slightly. As your eyes begin to adjust to the darkness, you are finally able to see who has been speaking to you.




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Trying to focus his vision Arphrer tries to rub his eyes and quickly realizes his hands are bound. A sense of panic rushes over him... suddenly he remembers his practice and finds calmness in the moment.

He opens his mouth and he struggles to make words come out he clears his dry throat and is finally able to get a sentence out. “Prince Derendil? Sounds familiar...” he searches his brain for a second “from Nelrindenvane? What are you doing here more importantly what a I doing here? Last I recall I laid down for a nap after a long days of travel. You?”

Still struggling to make it fully back to concienceness he scans his surrounds to see where he is.
 
"I fell asleep in my kingdom 3 days ago, and woke up in this cell, staring at all of these darkbloods and monsters," he complained quietly, "And something turned me into one of the monsters, as well. From what I can tell, I was polymorphed before I was thrown in here. They must be after my kingdom's wealth, but my father does not negotiate with terrorists." He spits as he looks through the bars at something you can not see.
 
Arpher continues to regain his bearings as he scans himself up and down taking an inventory of his injuries. He discovers an injection site. “How long did it take you to turn into that? I understand why they would take you but me I come from nothing I have no wealth or status. Also, what have you seen since you’ve been down here? I’m sorry for my candor I don’t prefer being shackled and I would like to get out of here as soon as possible my lord? Is it?”

He begins to relax and assess the strength of the binds that hold him hostage. He doesn’t call out and doesn’t panic. The voice that he uses is calm and relaxed. Slightly over a whisper but clear and decisive.
 
"I haven't a clue what any of the others are here for," Darendil responds, "and yes, my lord will do, I was allowing you some leway as you were coming to your senses." He shifts upward, but is not able to stand erect because the ceilings are too low, "I see the poison is kicking in again, it will do that," he said cooly, "I will save you some food for when you awaken."

Arpher's eyelids begin to droop after only a few moments, and he can feel his blood rushing in his ears. The poison still flows in his veins and after only about 5 minutes of conciousness, he slumps back down to the floor.
 
Salgric felt broken in more ways than he could even understand, much less expres. He fell silent and nearly catatonic after his betrayal and capture. He did not sleep that night, and because of that was able to see the many nimble dark figures as they crept through the camp around him. Salgric watched as they went into tents, he heard muffled groans, and they exited carrying knives that shone blood red in the moonlight. He was to crushed to warn anyone of the slaughter he was witnessing, and at this point, he didn’t even care. One of the dark figures that looked almost like elves came up to the edge of his cage, looked him in the eyes, and without showing any emotion shot him in the neck with a crossbow. Salgric lost consciousness almost immediately, falling into the dirt.

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Galdrak had a mission, a purpose to his life. He was ready to redeem himself and make his family proud. He pulled himself up from the beach and began to walk to the nearest port town that he could see. Upon entering the town, he immediately realised that some of the articles he was wearing were connected Verale and his treachery, so he quickly removed them as he headed into the inn. He would stay the night before he got his bearings and set forth to be the best Galdrak he could be. As he lay down in newly dried sleeping clothes, he thought of the true adventure he could have, and what he would do if ever he ran into Verale again. As he fell asleep, he thought he could hear movement in his room. There was a sudden pain in three seperate places on his body, and his world went black.

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Salgric awakens in the dark, sitting up against a wall. He can tell that he is bound at his wrists and feet, and there is something holding his mouth closed, though he could open it enough to mumble. He can’t see what, but something is holding his hands. “Oh, you have come back to us, is see,” says a soft, gentle voice (In Common).

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Galdrak has a moment of overwhelming fear as he sputters and coughs himself awake. His eyes adjust to the interior of the jail cell quickly, and he is able to see that there is an Orc in the cell with him. He has grey skin and a ring in his ear. He appears to be sleeping up against the bars. There are other cells across from where his cell is, each appearing to have a few creatures in them. The much larger Orc begins to stir.
 
I must be in Zigguraxus, in the lair of Tiamat. I deserve this. Salgric barely looked up at the sound of the voice of another creature. "It's colder than I expected." He mutters aloud to himself. "When will The Dark Lady take us? Do we suffer long, or does she feast often?" Salgric could not find the will to stand up. His mud-spattered scales briefly shone gold as he twisted himself over to look at the speaker.
 
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"What nonsense are you murmuring about?" the voice asks as the hand lightly carresses yours. Your eyes adjust to the dark, and you can make out the face of a woman. Judging by her shape and size, you would think she is a dwarf. It is too dark to make out her features well, but she appears to be smiling kindly at you as she hold on to your hands with bound hands of her own. "They must have poisoned you good, you look completely lost," she says as she stares into your eyes in the dark. "Oh, you just can't see, I understand. You were right there is a dark lady, that (stream of swear words you don't understand) drowess."
 
"Drow? Then you mean we are not in the clutches of Tiamat the Avaricious?" Salgric strains his eyes but fails to make out anything further. "If not she, then in what hell have I found myself in? We were always told that those that broke the code were delivered to her upon death" A glimmer of hope returns to Salgric. Is it possible that my vows still hold? "What was your crime that brought you here?"
 
"I don't know that anyone here committed a crime, and I am almost entirely certain you aren't dead my jumpy muzzled friend. I have only been here a day or two, but it seems like this is a slave encampment. Though I have only seen folks brought in since I have been here. Two besides you, at least since I woke up."
 
Salgric falters as he hears her state that he's not dead. I see. Then this is just another punishment from the Platinum Dragon for my transgressions. I have merely traded one cell for the next. "Whatever the Lord of the North has planned as my penance I shall bear. I have committed a grievous blaspheme against him, and am deserving of whatever he wishes." Salgric bows his head and takes his hands away from the dwarven woman's. "I am so sorry you have been caught up in my punishment for my misdeeds." He avoids meeting her eyes. Yet another who I have failed.
 
What is happening? What is this place? Who is that? Questions are piercing Galdrok’s brain as he tries to make sense of what is happening. He takes a few seconds to calm down and recollect his thoughts. Okay, think. What can I see? He glances around and notices that he’s in an small cell smushed up against a grey skinned orc.

Upon noticing that he’s in an cell, his muscles immediately go rigid. Did I get arrested? Is this the doing of Virale? Is he in here? Before he can process his questions, the grey skinned orc starts stirring and grabs Galdrok’s attention. "Hello? The name’s Galdrok, do you know what’s going on?" He places his hand on the Orc’s shoulder and gives him a light shake.

While waiting for the Orc to snap out of his sleep, he looks around the cell and spots a larger room with another set of bars followed by a locked door. Two large hairy monsters are keeping watch over what seems to be multiple cells. Galdrok squints his eyes and manages to see other prisoners locked up in their own cells. A scaly lizard man with a small burly human woman, a regular sized human paired together with another hairy monster, and a dark coloured tiny human with two small creatures.. I must still be dreaming, it’s too confusing.
 
Suddenly, and without warning, the Orc wakes up in a panic. Unlike when you were paniced and scared, he seems to be paniced and angry. He thrashes around, trying to break his bonds, and when he finally notices Galdrok, he roars at the top of his lungs as he tackles him to the ground and raises his bound fists high into the air. "Where am I, What is happening!?" he screams in Orcish. "You did this to me?!" he roars as he slams his fists into your head...

In his fury, he was distracted by everything around him and slammed his hands into the rock floor beside your head, leaving rubble in its place. The miss causes him to tumble to the ground beside you.
 
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She reels back in an attempt to slap Salgric, but the bonds are too tight and she just graises his cheek. "What are ya', daft," the woman exclaims, "Or just an egomaniac?" She turns her head to look into the darkness where you can hear a scuffle going on. Looking back at Salgric, she attempts to calm herself, "I don't care what you did, there is no way any of this has anything to do with your 'misdeeds.' We are in a cell deep underground at the whim of those dark skinned (more dwarven swears) mud elfs. They kidnap easy targets and make them work, or they just murder, who in Maradin's name knows why." She gets close enough that you can see her eyes clearly for the first time, "I won't be puttin' up with a sad-sack mopin' about all night long, wingin' and moanin' his life away."
 
Salgric barely flinched at her attempt to strike him. Forgive her Bahamut, she knows not what she does. Please, free her and these others. I deserve to suffer alone. Salgric tries to refocus his mind for a moment, trying to recall anything he would know about drow, but something inside of him was forcing that down. He closed his eyes, and attempted to meditate like his mentors always taught him. Breath in... Breath out... Let the Platinum God's breath mirror your own. Let him be your eyes, your nose, your ears. Salgric opened his eyes, a faint platinum glow swirling in his red irises, granting him sight to creatures that might not be as they had seemed. Nothing. He then felt a pit in his stomach, as a familiar feeling struck him, stronger than it had ever hit him before. He leaned forward, wracked with pain for a moment as it overwhelmed his god-gifted senses. "Evil... It's everywhere here! We must escape!" Salgric lurched upwards, and began to rush at the cage, attempting to slam into the bars full force, but within three steps he found that his strength had failed him. Darkness began to overtake his vision. The last thought that crossed his mind before he lost consciousness was, Evil is everywhere around me, but not inside of me... Not yet... And then everything went black.
 
Having just returned from a job clearing a windmill of a giant rat infestation, the Bloodaxes set up camp and prepare for a well earned sleep. Riven is worn out, wishing somewhere deep in his mind that he had just been able to throw a fireball and burn the place to the ground. He was still wary of exposing his spellcasting to these other brutes, for fear that they wouldn’t understand. Though they all get along together, the group seems to have a level of animosity toward anyone, especially targets, who use magic.


After dinner, Riven was given the first watch, and there were some rustling sounds in the woods around him, but the four hour span went by uneventfully. Riven traded shifts and headed to sleep. Just as he started to drift off, there was a sound of his companion who was on watch beginning to blow his horn. The sound was cut off immediately and Riven heard a groan. As he opened his eyes, looking straight up, he saw a set of silver eyes staring back at him. That was the last thing he saw, before he went unconscious.

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Wilma was prepared for bloodshed as she quietly made he way through the opening of the cave. Her guild had been hired to take out an elven druid who had lost his mind and began using his magic to destroy homes and businesses in Waterdeep. Their intel told them that the druid had been consistently returning to this cave, so they had to assume it was his home. She was convinced this job would only require two thieves, so she had everyone else stay and took Yarter, the best shot in the guild, with her.


They both stepped carefully as they got deeper into the cave, and the light from the opening began to fade. Though she was usually more alert, Wilma was surprised when she tripped over something. She turned to see that it was the corpse of the druid they had been sent to kill. As she checked for signs of life, Yarter stood and said, “I guess someone beat us to…” At that moment, Wilma looked up to see a sword sticking out the front of her friend’s chest.


Wilma immediately ran for the entrance, but found herself shot in the back by a crossbow in the dark. She made it only three more steps before her legs stopped working, and darkness overtook her.
 
“Hold your horses, I didn’t do anything to you!” Galdrok yells, still shocked at the sudden lunge of the large grey mass labeled as Orc. “Look around! We’re not the only ones in here!” Realising that the Orc might not understand him, he tries to communicate in orcish. He barely manages to form an cohesive sentence with his rusty orcish, making it sound even more primitive than orcish already is. “Da’ reel enemy not Galdrok, enemy iz der!” He says, pointing at the two hairy guards. As he points at the two, his head feels like it's splitting open. He is hit by an sudden memory back when he was still working on Verale’s ship, stocking away barrels at the supply room together with one of the crew members. The crew mate told tales about weird creatures, creatures that resembled these beasts. What was it again… Was it an.. Guh.. Guh.. noll? No, it was not “Guh-noll”. It started with “Kwue”.. Ah! Kwahgotz, now I remember! But that would mean I’m somewhere far below the ground.. Galdrok’s face slips into a deep worry, noticing he’s as far from safety as he’s ever been.
 
Hearing the commotion coming from one of the cells, you can see two small, dark skinned, pointy eared, "humans" who were apparently standing in front of the Quaggoths. They look into your cell, raise their crossbows, and each shoot one of you. The poison takes over quickly, and you lose conciousness almost immediately.
 
Riven wakes up on the cold hard ground. He looks around to see that he is clearly imprisoned underground. His darkvision allows him to see clearly that he is being held in a small cell with a creature that looks like a thin dwarf. There is a rather large fungus growing in the back corner of the cell.


“Hello, brother,” the spindly humanoid says. He is clearly a resident of the underdark, having dark grey skin and nearly white glowing eyes. His beard appears to be cut off in random places, along with the majority of his hair. He looks pleasant, if not jolly, despite the bleakness of the place you are in. “Glad to see you have awoken, I thought they may have killed you, you slept for so long.” He smiles and offers his shackled hands in greeting. “My name is Buppido, whom do I have the pleasure of meeting?”

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Wilma awoke with a start, the image of her friend’s death burned into her mind. Though she opened her eyes, all she saw was blackness. Her eyes were just adjusting when she made out the moving shapes of two humanoids, about her size, moving around her erratically. “What” “type” “of” “thing” “is” “this?” She hears each word coming from the opposite side of hear.
 
Wilma instinctively goes for one of her daggers... but finding it missing she backs up as far as she can saying, "What is this! Where am I! I'll kill you for what you did to Yarter!". She looks around frantically, trying to discern her surroundings and those in her immediate area, looking for an escape and trying to note where the enemy is. All the while she thinks back on her friendship with Yarter... as kids playing pranks on the grownups and their rivalries with the other neighborhoods kids which culminated in the formation of her Guild. And how that friendship was snuffed out in the blink of an eye. She will have her vengeance. The murderers will die... and the irony is not lost on her.
 
"Gordul!" Riven groaned, rolling onto his hands and knees. "Wha...where am I?" He continued in dwarvish, turning and sitting down, hands to one side holding him steady. He looked around, taking notice of his surroundings, only ever so faintly, head pounding as he moved it.

The humanoid came over, called Riven...brother? ...and introduced himself. Riven, not thinking entirely straight, pushed himself up and grabbed the proffered hands in his. He obviously saw that they were in a cell underground, but he noted now that the entire space was carved out of an enormous stalagtite, as if it dropped from the ceiling for the sole purpose of holding people against their will. The stonework was clearly made by Duergar hands, but he could not tell if his new companion was from amongst those people.

"I am Riven", the name came to him quickly these days, "and I do not know how I came here, or what interest the Duergar have in me." he finished, quirking an eyebrow pointedly at Buppido. He kept Buppido's hands clasped in his, not menacincly, though not loosely either.
 
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"No, not duergar, they left this place long ago, Riven." He begins to pull back his hands, and realizes that Riven is holding on to him. "I know you are afraid, you are a serface dwarf taken down here deep in the underdark. I thought I was going to be alone in here, but when they brought you into my cell, I felt a small hope." He pulls away, and rubs his wrists where they are bruised around the shackles. He looks out the cell bars toward the gaurds, and looks sad. "Though, I wish they would stop bringing people here, I think the more they capture, the better our chances of escape become."
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Wilma's head swiveled wildly as she kept hearing voices all around her. Suddenly, there appeared to be some light coming from crystals hanging from the ceilings. Not much of it, but enough for Wilma to understand where the voices were coming from. She could now see a pair of Svirfneblin (dark gnomes) who appeared to be identical twins. They looked quite young, maybe in there late adolecence. They were looking at her strangely, like she was completely alien to them.

"What is a Yarter?" they spoke back and forth, as though they were one. They both tilted their heads quizzically, continuing to circle the halfling.
 
Completely confused by the whole situation Wilma shouts at them in frustration, "What the fucking fuck is going on?!? The fuck us going on?!? Where the fuck am I, and what kind of weird shit are you two into talking like that?!?". She backs up as far as she can trying to make sure no one is behind her so she can size up the situation. Her eyes wide open and pupils dilated as big as possible, her hands shaking panic starting to set in.

Realizing she is bound, Wilma frantically tries to dislocate her thumbs to slip out of the binds and crying out in pain she nearly breaks them in her panic failing to take off the binds.
 
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"Let us hope. I do not like being chained." Riven replied, remembering his previous imprisonment in Sundabar. No longer facing down Buppido, he wandered around the cell, glancing out to see that he was in cluster of locked chambers similar to his, each firmly shut, and that the cluster itself was locked and guarded, by two hulking beasts. Turning back towards the inside of his cell he asked. "Buppido, who are you? How did you come to be here?" As he asked he peered into a wooden bowl on the floor - hoping to find something of use, and was rewarded with the sight, and empowered scent of his own feces. Glancing at the mushroom, and before Buppido can answer he cries "Nothing! How dare they imprison...!" and he smacks his chained forearms against the walls, head down, stopping before he reveals too much.
 
Hearing a loud THUD echo across the chamber, Salgric jolts awake. "Where am I-" He remembers his situation. Last I can recall, I was still able to utilize my divine powers. If this is the case, Bahamut must still be with me! I know not what he has in store for me, but this must be a part of His plan. Salgric stands up, weakened but for the first time in weeks feeling an inkling of his former resolve return to him. He tries to scan the room, his eyes having adjusted better to the darkness. He scans the room, seeing more cells around filled with other prisoners. Salgric turns to the dwarven woman who he had previously been speaking to. He mumbles through the muzzle to her, "I apologize for my complaints before. I see now that they only were worsening the situation before, and I apologize that. My name is Salgric Brightscale, and I am... perhaps was... a paladin of Bahamut. If it be His will, you have my word we shall be liberated by my hand!" Salgric tries to raise a hand in a triumphant manner, but is held back by his bonds. "Firstly though, I must do something about this gods forsaken muzzle!" He paused for a moment, and then focused all of his strength into his jaws. I must be careful not to let them know that I have my ancestral weapon free to utilize. Bahamut give me strength! He slowly applied pressure to the leather strap, stretching it to the brink until he was confident it would fall off when he needed it. "There we go. Now, please, tell me what you know of this place. Every detail could be important." He focuses his gaze on the dwarven woman with determination in his eyes that had not been seen since his transgression.
 
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