[Game Thread] Freedom is Never Free

[IW2RP]

You are paraded into the city of Stillwatch. The citizens of the town gawk at you like your some soft of freak show. Mothers push their children away from you, and fathers spit at your feet as you walk through the city. Finally you come to the end of the village.

On your right is the blacksmiths shop. The sign reads "Monquarome's Big Pointy Stick". A spear pierces the "o" in the word pointy, crosses the "t" and ends in a point above the name. An elf sit's in front of the shop wearing a blacksmiths apron and playing a mandolin. He nods at you with a solemn look. An elven women, presumably his wife, steps out of the shop. She too is wearing an apron, but hers is covered in soot. She is wiping her hands on a rag, and upon seeing you shakes her head and turns around.

To your left is the tavern. A moment ago it was bustling with people. They were drinking and talking and having a fantastic time, but they all sit quiet now and stare at you. The guards stop. The lead guard, who the others address as "cap'in", turns around and begins to speak, "Take a good look maggots, this is the last sign of civilization you will ev-"

A voice from behind you cuts him off. Turning you see a wagon loaded with crates barreling toward you. The man next to the driver is standing on his feet and yelling in your direction. "Wait! Wait! I have a message!" The wagon, that was once moving at a considerable speed, slows to a stops and the man who was yelling jumps off and rushes to the guard.

You get a good look at him as he runs by. He is a small human man, who wears the clothes of a commoner and is carrying several large envelopes, all bearing large red seals. Gasping for air the man opens his mouth, "Prisoners... Not... Prisoners... An... More... General... P..."

Cap'in looks puzzled. He looks the man over and replies, "What's this nonsense you fool? Out with it! I've no time to waste, we are escorting these prisoners to the docks."

"No... General.. Par... Pardon..." fumbling through the papers he holds up one of the envelopes. Cap'in takes it, inspecting the seal for a moment before opening it. He reads for a moment and looks back up.

"The prisoners have been pardoned, by General Mortlus. They are to be released, and their equipment returned."

Another guard pipes up, "What? Tha's rather odd. I never' 'eard of anything like that.. Maybe it's a trick?"

"It has the generals seal. Seems strange to me as well, but there's no question. Straight from his office, even has the scratch mark. I'm not one to go against orders." He turns to his fellow guardsmen, "Let's get a drink before we head back to the fort." All six of the men then take one last look at you, and then turn to walk into the tavern, leaving you in chains.

The citizens of Stillwatch return to their lives as if nothing had happened, and you weren't there at all. You notice that the messenger, along with the wagon driver and several volunteers, have finished unloading 6 crates near you. The messenger then lays another envelope on the top of the pile of crates. The wagon has already started to move and, as he climbs onto it, he looks back at you. "It's your lucky day lad's"

[zevonian]

Spitters now. Shackles tomorrow.

The orc blooded prisoner gave a smile to each of the little children that dared gawk at he and his fellow folk-in-chains. He smiled because of the tales of woe he heard from some of the lesser men amidst this marching season. Not the five nearest him, but rather the ones that babbled and cried upon his first day in this walking dead sort of life, were the ones responsible for the words now in his head. He knew that anyone could be put into irons at any time. Children that looked at his not-entirely-human form now could find themselves in tears at the notion their parents, spitters and shunners alike, would be in the same lot as him.

But then it all changed. Though the was the exact opposite of the master of the written word, he knew common talk when he heard it, and one word was unerring in the message it had upon utterance.

Pardon.

The rest of the conversation, one half fumbling and the other half questioning, mattered not to him. He knew what he had heard. He saw the wagon. He had a notion of what would happen next. He had lived through a somewhat similar situation. That time, the choices were death at sundown or exile at sunrise. The departure that followed led him off of his native land. It led him to a fight with so called noblemen. It led him here.

Exile continues. Without chains.

As the messenger and the captain exchanged notes, words, and stares, the orc blood focused on the manacles upon him. His was a body of great strength, one that could break and crush a great many things. And this was without him getting angry. By the time the crates were unloaded, and the wagoneer started to pull away, he responded to the declaration that it was a lucky day without a word. He did it by pressing his forearms away from one another, with a resounding clank upon his irons.

[Hitman]

Tenzin had always had a knack for thinking on his feet. In this particular instance, he was completely unconcerned with how he got into this situation, and he was far more concerned with how to get out. Indeed his body walked through the town of Stillwatch, but his mind was somewhere else completely.

Since his incarceration, Tenzin had gone through the logical steps to his escape with lightening speed. I can't run, for the chains would hold me. I could defeat the lock, but I'm without tools. These manacles would serve as an excellent weapon, but 'tis nothing when measured against a blade. Whilst his body walked ever forward without the aid of his mind, Tenzin scoured his brain for a way out of these chains.

He remained hidden within the confines of his own mind for sometime, that is until the grim procession suddenly stopped. Tenzin nearly bumped into the prisoner in front of him before he realized what was going on. He watched the cart approach, and the small man jump off. He looked upon the spectacle at first with curiosity, then with suspicion, and lastly with devious inspiration. This is my chance, everyone's distracted. If I could only get out of these iron binds! His gaze shifted quickly from side to side; one eye on the scene unfolding in front of him, and one eye on any possible means of escape. Although Tenzin was totally focused on his schemes, he joined the rest of the prisoners in shock as the man known only as 'cap'in' uttered the fateful word 'pardon'. Tenzin then shifted his focus on to what was happening around him. He quickly processed what had occurred, but that didn't make it any easier to believe. Tenzin was confident his freedom was only a matter of time, but never did he dream it would come in the form of an official pardon. Regardless, he felt action was due, not thought. Despite the chains still holding him, he attempted to scoop up the envelope left atop the pile of crates, hopefully to find his shackle keys inside.

[Lord Dankil]

Aldwyn marched through Stillwatch glaring at each person who dared gawk at him. When the group stops Aldwyn glances around at the distracted crowd. He tried hard to slip his hands through the manacles, but to no avail. When the guard says they have been pardoned Aldwyn cannot hold back his shock. "Why would they just let us go?" he whispered. Perhaps this general want's us for something he thought... Turning to the crates he sees Tenzin grabbing the envelope and he speaks up, "Why does the short one get the letter?"Aldwyn then suggusts "Why not go let the blacksmith break the chains?"

[Raunchel]

Audra walked in chains, between the others, the chains were a horror to her, she needed to be free, free to whirl like leaves in the wind. In her mind she heard the music, but could not move to it. Her mind was driven to the edge, it felt like her brain tried to push outwards. She hated the crowd, they had to admire her, not shout abuse and spit. She imagined herself dancing through the village, her barbed chain cutting through the mesmerized villagers. Then they would admire her.

The music became louder and louder, drowning out the noise of the crowd. Then something disturbed her, something even louder. A rumbling noise, quickly approaching. She opened her eyes and looked at the source of the sound. A cart was coming right at them, a frantically signing man on top of it, he was shouting but could not be heard over his cart's noise. He came to a halt close to them. There was a confused conversation but Khryssa heard one thing, pardon, she would be free again. She did not understand but the music always was a mysterious thing.

The keys weren't there, the soldiers would have them. The envelope would probably just contain the terms of their release, but still she was curious. She tried to get close to it in order to read it.

[jm935]

Pardoned? Zalmoxis sat quietly, waiting for more information. It's not like he could do much with these chains on anyway.

[Alex M]

Nicholas shrugs off the crowd along with the rain. Not worth much, either one. One foot in front of the other. Nothing to it. Once they get to the island he'll have a little freedom to move, but here, chained to the others, there's not much to do about it. He is a patient man. Enduring, surviving. This he can do. He won't miss his chance when it comes, but it ain't come yet.

So then the noise, the messenger, the letters and the crates. He settles back on his feet, squinting at the others as they push and crowd round. Time will tell. Does he know the General Mortlus? Soon enough he will. His work if not his person. What else does a general do with six souls who no longer officially exist? He's done these jobs before. Dirty work. It don't matter not for one general or seven viscounts, it's always the same when it comes to killing. Time will tell.

[IW2RP]

The half-orc's chains give a powerful ring audible to all in the streets, but the attempt to break them is in vain. The shackles binding Exile prisoners are designed to withstand the force of the most savage barbarians and the most cunning rogues. Tenzin, being at nearly the end of the chain linking the group, only needed to move the quiet Zalmoxis, who patiently waited at the back of the group to hear more. Aldwyn found himself blocked by Audra, and tethered by Jamus. In this way Tenzin easily escaped Aldwyns grasp with the letter in hand. Breaks the seal and opening the letter reveals a small envelope, and a short letter.

The envelope isn't much larger than a human hand. It's seal is very different than the one on the larger envelopes that the courier was carrying, not only in the design, but indeed in the material used. The Larger envelopes seal was of a bright red wax, and the it's crest showed a large greatsword with the end of the blade pointing downward and the hilt up (Symbol of the Ahrionian Legion). This envelope's seal was also red, but much darker and made of a flaky, cracking substance. It's Crest shows only the letter D, of the finest calligraphy.

The letter's contents are brief and read as follows:

"Seek Garren Blackley. He is the sheriff, and self proclaimed mayor, of Stillwatch. Big house, middle of town. Can't miss it. Present the envelope to him. He will give you further instructions."

The paper is torn, the writing seems frantic-often changing direction, and even style throughout. It has no signature except for a large "A" at the bottom.

[zevonian]

It is a start.

The orc blood stared at that which somewhat bound his arms. He looked for any point where the slightest bit of metal stress had been made with his efforts. He knew that his noisemaker would have three effects.

One, his strength might be underestimated because the bonds were not broken. Someone with a weapon might foolishly come close to him, and be soon relieved of blade and breath.

Two, folks might realize how close he came to breaking them with just a shrug, and leave him be. Those that would be intimidated by a simple clang of chains would likely be commoners, not carrying much of use to him, and thus just be in his way.

Three, he may have just served as a distraction for one of the five among him. If one of them had smuggled out a pick or key, such an item could be used with less detection, and thus less chance of a passerby noticing one fellow new pardonee was freer than the others.

It was six against the town, until they were unchained.

As he mulled over his options, someone with name unknown to him opened the envelope and revealed the contents inside. The orc blood waited no time before having a response.

"We open crates. We each claim what was taken from us. We find that house."

He trundled over to the nearest box and and pressed the edge of the lid away from him, just to see whether or not it was nailed shut.

 

My character's speech was based on my post interpretation in that the letter's message was read out loud to everyone. If that is not the case, ignore the bolded text above. Thanks.

[Raunchel]

Khryssa tried to get closer to the crates, walking on the tips of her toes and swaying slightly. Her tools had to be there, with them these chains would be gone in moments and she would be free again. Free to no longer be ingored but to be the center, continually shifting. She was being restrained even though she was pardoned. She was already working on the locks, her thin fingers moving swiftly over the

Dice disable device:

d20+7

(1)+7

Total = 8

lock.

[Hitman]

"Indeed." Tenzin replied to the massive Orc beside him. He proceeded to hand the letter off and head for the crates, determined to find his belongings. As he opened the first of the crates, he thought once again about getting free from his bonds, issuing a question to the ragtag group before him, "Would anyone happen to have a lockpick? I could free us, but without tools I'm afraid it becomes rather difficult."

[IW2RP]

Opening the crates does in fact reveal your equipment. Though you have some difficulty collecting it while in chains, the task is eventually completed. Unfortunately those who prefer to wear armor donning it to be rather impossible, and even those who simply wield their weapons find them difficult to use.

Tenzin and Khryssa go to work on the locks, but to no avail. The locks are of the finest quality money can buy. Even after taking far more time than normally needed, they still remain shut. Eventually you start to hear laughter from the direction of the blacksmith's shop.

Looking over you see the elf, he still sits by the door of the blacksmith's shop holding his mandolin. When he sees his amusement has drawn your attention he straightens up and, still smiling, begins to speak.

"I can see why they pardoned you! How about I take you inside and break those chains? I'll only charge you 100 gold."

[zevonian]

They'll want us to leave now.

The first choice of the orc blood was the correct one. Immediately he recgonized his armaments, but knew his armor wasn't going to be slipped on in his current condition. But the three items that interested him most were readily available. Two gloves, not gauntlets, were carefully slipped on. They were sharp, barbed slightly, and just short enough to be wearable despite the manacles.

And then he picked up his sword. It was an odd looking blade, with a slight curve, and more heft in the non-hilted end then one would expect. There wasn't much else he had in the crate of value, besides the armor. He just picked out a couple of items and secured them to his person. If any fellow prisoner had trouble opening a crate, he pushed the lids over for them, but otherwise he just waited for everyone to rearm themselves. Now we are ready.

An elf caught his attention, one with an offer than sounded good, except for the price. So the orc blood gave a wicked, tusky grin and a counter offer. "You do it for free. You be the first person in town we like." With the look in his eyes, and the weapons on hands, he gave the impression that being liked was in the elf's best interest.

[Hitman]

Tenzin was surprised at the quality of the locks. He wasn't in that much trouble, was he? Regardless, the locks weren't open to negotiation. After donning what equipment he could, he was giving it his twelfth attempt when he heard the blacksmiths mocking offer. Tenzin wasn't prone to emotional outbursts, but he knew there was a special place in hell for people who poked fun at him. He stopped fussing with the lock and withdrew a flask of red liquid, removed the cork, and spoke in the direction of the blacksmith, piggy-backing on the Orc's words, "I'd be in your best interest to listen to him. 'Tis a wonderful shop you have..." Tenzin trailed off, withdrawing a glowing orange vial, slipping it into the mouth of the flask and re-inserting the cork as he continued, "...it would be a shame if something

Dice Intimidate Roll:

1d20-1

(3)-1

Total = 2

happened to it..." Tenzin stood with as menacing a look as he could muster, bomb in hand, waiting for the blacksmiths reply.

[IW2RP]

The elf listens to Jamuss, looks at the chains binding him, then chuckles again.

"I have enough friends, thanks."

His smile fades when he sees Tanzin mixing chemicals.

"Wait! Wait! Now, now just calm down. Come on you have only just been freed from Exile! How about this, I'll do it for 50, and not one copper piece less-my wife would kill me if she knew I was using her tools to help prisoners!"