#1
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Sand in Your Mouth
A jolt to the wagon wakes you from fitful slumber. Vague images of several unpleasant deaths quickly fade, leaving you vaguely disquieted. Dim light filters through the many chinks in the large wagon's hold, as does a fine sand. Always the sand. The only consolation is that the morning's water ration isn't far off. A single cupful of murky water in the morning and another in the evening, plus a crust of flat-bread, is barely enough to prevent dehydration, even shaded in the wagon as you are. The immense hold contains two rows of eight cages with a walkway between. A single wooden door allows exit from the wagon at one end. The cells closest to the door each hold a single occupant, one a half-giant and the other a thri-kreen, both shackled securely to the floor. The remaining six cells each hold 2-3 humanoid occupants of various races, none shackled. A single guard sits atop a small storage compartment at the opposite end of the door. Until two days ago, a second guard was also present. He left just after the evening water ration and didn't return. The ceiling is about 7' high, making it uncomfortable for the half-giant. After an hour of movement, the wagon rumbles to a halt. The human guard glances up bored, but makes no move towards the door. A few minutes later the door bangs open, flooding the wagon with morning sunlight. "Hey Gar, get your lazy bones out here!" a voice called from outside. The guard stared out the door for a moment. "But, Torvus said I was to stay here no matter what, since-" "Get your ass out here! One of the Mek's has decided not to work today. I need your help. This load of meat ain't goin' anywhere!" Gar stands and looks around the wagon before coming to a decision. He walks the length of the wagon and climbs down onto the yellow sand. He closes the door and you hear a bar placed across it. An eerie silence settles in the wagon, the prisoners without direct guard for the first time in their trip.
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If you don't have the time to read, you don't have the time or the tools to write. ~ Stephen King Last edited by Coracodon; Dec 3rd, 2011 at 08:33 PM. |
#2
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Such torchure! No, it's not the weather and it's arid conditions. Nor is it the chains and the loss ofhis freedom. It is not even the fact that the Angry-Meats have been poking him with sharp sticks everytime he tries to put effort into struggling.
What is really driving him insane is the pheromones of the sweet-meat wafting from either side of the Fat-Thing-In-The-Middle. A delectible medly coming from the cage with 3 creatures, but the real gourmet treat is the one with 2 creatures. The one staring at him though the bars with the tender pointed ears, sweating, slowly baking in its cell. Fearing... He has to get out. There are tales of his brethren going crazy once they taste the sweet-meat, to the point of obsession. If he is to survive the recon excursion, he needs to be in full control of his faculties. He needs out. Xia finds himself in a pretty good state, really, given the fact that these slavers don't seem to know much about his kind. Their superior adaptation to desert climes means 2 cups of water a day is simply going into storage sacks, unlike the rest of these shmucks who seem to be overtly reliant on a substance in rare supply. Weak meat things. The Fat-Thing-In-The-Middle has gotten off its larval state, and begins to make noises from its head orfice in what seems to be a language of sorts. Xia really wishes he could touch its brain, maybe to impart some knowledge as to what the heck they're saying. Ground Below knows, he'd been trying to reach for the youngling pupae in the next cage, but all it does is cower from his reach, showing a prolifierant misuse of moisture through expulsion of the eyes. How does one explain to an alien, "I just need your brain"? Once the Fat-Thing-In-The-Middle leaves, there is an eerie silence in the cages as it seems the other creatures think of what to do. All he can think is that, finally, this is his chance to put a good effort into breaking these binds without being poked at. With a mighty clatter, he rises from the floor, straining with all his might agains the chains BEND BARS CHECK, on less then 20% Dice Roll:
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RL hit me with a 1-2 Punch. Will be back to regular posting rate soon. Last edited by JonnyGulliver; Dec 3rd, 2011 at 07:05 PM. |
#3
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Head lowered beneath the hunch of her wings, Louhahki stares. There is no way her wingspan could unfold even in this caravan, let alone the cage, and claustrophobia has already settled itself bone deep. Her raised wings curve protectively in front of her beneath hands clasped above her bowed head in meditation. She kneels because standing her neck would be bent and she would not be able to raise her arms. While it may not be kind, she tries to keep the others at bay with both her wings and her unreadable, black, avian eyes. Already the closeness threatens. It makes her feathers wilt. She does not need them, the others, coming closer and bringing the walls in with them. Ekeehr. She needed to get out and deliver his message to his family in person. The wind would bring her there. She just needed to live through this captivity and be free again. Like a sick person remembering wellness, that word did not seem real to Luki anymore.
While Luki felt disheveled, and was somewhat worse for the wear of the desert, her plumage was beautiful, although wrong for the desert. White feathers, like snow falling beneath a full moon, quivered as they pressed against the bars. Speckles of soft, pale grey broke up the whiteness of her feathers. The bottom edge of her wings faded to a pale blue reminiscent of icicles or the inside of a snow cave rather than the sky. Her beak and talons stood out charcoal grey. Her eyes were black and feral. Upon a quick look, looking into the sky, she would blend into the clouds well. Unfortunately there were few clouds in the desert. And there was no way for her to reach the sky in her current condition. Her satin crest was pressed hard against her skull, and her beak was open, panting in a panicky manner. When she heard the thri-kreen strain against the chains, it seemed to awaken her. She turned her head almost all the way around to stare unblinking at the creature. She let out a low hiss that was neither threatening nor friendly, but rather contemplative in nature. That was right. The guard was not here. This was not a problem for muscles, however. This was a problem that required brains. Although trapped on the ground she was still surrounded by air, the element of her choice. Maybe she could warp wood or cool metal to the point where it would shatter. Hope straightened her back and made her more alert. She longed so to taste freedom. She wondered if she ought to try speaking to these others. They were all of the savage humanish races; all racing around on the ground, save for the thri-kreen, a beast of a creature extremely alien to Luki’s limited experience. She glanced at those in the cage with her, trying to devise a plan. Many at work were stronger. She made no attempt at hiding her actions for a change, and in fact almost exaggerated the gesture of examining the cage bars and door.
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Excitare Fluctus In Simpulo |
#4
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Sheryllin Nerel
HP: 31/31 PSP: 40/40 Human Psion (2)/Thief (2) Sheryllin slowly wakes to the familiar feel of the slave wagon continuing its journey to her ill-fate. It still wasn't a nightmare. She shoves the male Elf off her once again, with little effort. Men are all the same. Why can't you lay on her sometime? she nods slightly toward the Aarakocra sharing their cell. Further down the wagon, she notices the insectoid watching everyone again. She glares at it, knowing that it wanted to eat them all. Not because she knows what it's thinking, it was just a racial prejudice. She'd developed it from watching smaller versions of it eating corpses she found while skulking around the city. It's only natural to assume a larger one would be more a predator, than scavenger. She sits back in a corner, closes her eyes as if resting, and once again concentrates on one of the bars to their cell. She's been trying to turn it since she first awoke to this hole. If she could just loosen it, maybe she could eventual attempt escape. And then she wouldn't have an Elf drooling on her breasts as she slept. Dice Power Score:
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Last edited by Lexkat; Dec 8th, 2011 at 12:49 AM. |
#5
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They had been sleeping huddled together to share body warmth, the hard bars pressing against their flesh. The man on his side of the bars stirred as he heard the voices and crawled further away from the door. Two of the women on the other side of the bars held each other tighter, their eyes wide with fear. They were twin sisters by the looks of it, fine-featured and plump with water, although the hardship of their journey had taken its toll on them. The third one was older; she was now staring hollow-eyed at the place where the guard had sat, hugging herself and rocking back and forth.
/han#kass'o himself was squatting with his bony shoulders between his knees, to preserve the heat of his body core. With his dark skin he was almost invisible in the gloom, except for the occasional flash of eyes. He had been here for many days, trapped in darkness with all these others. At first he had tried talking to them, but they didn't understand his language and looked strangely at him. He had tried to learn their language, but most of them had no interest in teaching him and preferred to spend their time sleeping. Some of them had thrown themselves against the bars or shouted at the ones who had captured them. Others had tried more subtle ways of escaping, were trying even now. /han#kass'o flicked his eyes to each of the other captives and scratched the side of his neck. And waited. In the first days of his captivity he had studied his prison carefully, examining the walls, floor and ceiling, scratching the wood to look for signs of decay or parasites, testing the strength of the bars, looking for shards of stone or bone that could be fashioned into tools. He had spent hours with an eye to one of the larger chinks in the wagon, studying the places they were passing through. Day after day, as they headed deeper into the desert, the things he saw and heard, smelled and tasted formed an increasingly discouraging picture. The bars were too strong for him to bend or break, he had no means of cutting through them or through the walls of the wagon. The door was locked and guards were watching them day and night. Even if he had somehow escaped, he would be alone in the deep desert, with nothing but a loincloth and no knowledge of the area. It was certain death. Better to bide his time, conserving energy and waiting for the moment when he could achieve maximum effect with minimum effort. /han#kass'o waited.
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#6
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The other prisoners cannot help but notice the gaunt, scraggly man inhabiting the cell next to that of the half-giant. The juxtaposition of his small, frail body next to that of the half-giant is almost comical. He is dressed in what little rags the slavers would allow him to keep after stripping him of his weapons and gear. Yet, it is his empty eye socket that immediately earns him some degree of disgust from his fellow prisoners. When the guard leaves, the man begins scrounging around the bottom of his cell, digging around in the straw, searching for something. With one eye, he begins analyzing the lock at the front of his cell before digging around in the straw again.
Last edited by Stormhammer; Dec 4th, 2011 at 12:27 PM. |
#7
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Xia strains agains his shackles for several minutes, changing angles when he cannot rise to full height without reaching the ceiling. Despite straining mightily the bindings remain firmly fixed to the floor. They seem to be solid iron, the only thing of that rare material in sight, and possibly attached to the wagon axle. Finally he collapses back to the floor to regroup his strength.
Louhahki finds the cage to be well constructed. The walls are more slat than gap, each bar being solid wood about 2" thick and 4" wide and less than 2" between them. The door has a large square panel about 2' on a side. Looking at the cages across the walkway, you see the closing mechanism is simple. A wooden bar stretches the full width of the door and is locked into place against a pair of braces. A single cord runs through a hole in the bar and is tied to a hasp in the middle of the door, holding it in place. Sherillyn settles against the wall of her cell and her eyes slowly close. For a long minute, nothing happens. For several more minutes, nothing happens. Finally Sherillyn lets out a gasp and wipes the beads of sweat from her brow. There is no apparent change in the bar of the cell. Elzix finds a sliver of wood that he picks from the side of one of the slats and turns towards the door, only to realize there is no lock to be picked. Looking across the way he sees the crossbar-and-cord configuration. So simple and yet with barely a two inch gap between the slats, out of reach. At the sound of Xia's chains rattling, several of the others seem to rouse, though no one makes any obvious moves. The mul in the cage next to Xia watches intently, then seems to sag slightly when Xia fails to break free.
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If you don't have the time to read, you don't have the time or the tools to write. ~ Stephen King |
#8
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There is a series of annoyed chatters and clicks that comes from the mantis creature, before it reaaly starts struggling wildly now.
BEND BARS(Success Chance = 20%) Dice Roll:
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RL hit me with a 1-2 Punch. Will be back to regular posting rate soon. |
#9
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Sheryllin Nerel
HP: 31/31 PSP: 38/40 Human Psion (2)/Thief (2) Sheryllin glares at the chittering insect. "Shush you!" she hisses, trying to not be heard by the guards outside, and partially blaming it for distracting her. She then decides to try something different. She places her hands on two adjacent bars, and concentrates on them. Dice Cause Decay:
(Need a 15 or less)
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#10
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Mentally Louhahki gave the impression of stepping back and rolling up her sleeves, despite the fact it was unlikely she had ever worn sleeves. She gave a hard avian glance at the human female in her cage as she shoved the elf off her. Close quarters had not made the prisoners amicable to one another. That was one of the things Luki set aside as she concentrated on the structure she saw on each of the doors. A bar connected to rope connected to a hasp connected to wood. She could weaken the wood. Should she do it to the side so that maybe the wood would weaken enough to permit her hand, thus untying the hasp? Or should she weaken what the hasp touched, so that the door was then easily opened, so long as one found a way to shove the bar askew? The latter sounded more promising. Perhaps with the wood weakened she might even be able to bite or claw it until it gave way and she could reach through right at the hasp point…
Luki muttered her wood weakening spell to herself, feeling the air around her, empowering her words upon every breath and strengthening as it flowed around the area where she estimated the hasp to be on the opposite side of her door, just as it was on all the other doors. She concentrated, ignoring the chittering and shushing and the general background noise of the other prisoners. There was time enough to speak to them and release them if she managed to spring them of their trap. That was assuming, of course, that they were reasonable persons and not just beasts.
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Excitare Fluctus In Simpulo |
#11
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Tittering and mumbling to himself in his strange language, the small dark man hunches by the cell door and peers through the gaps, trying to see what all the commotion is. He makes motions with his hands, palms open and downwards, then points a thin finger at the door through which the guard had disappeared, chittering in a low voice. Then the downward motion again.
As the rattling and noise continues, he puts his hands on the sides of his head and tilts it from side to side in agitation. He briefly covers his eyes with his hands, then scratches his head and finally turns away from the door to rummage in the filthy straw of the cell.
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#12
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The creatures all around him seem to be sending off annoyance pheromones at the rattling of his chains, but the mantis cars not. With his last struggle, he could tell the chains were near break point. He CAN do this. It's only a matter of time.
Still, his chittin was getting fractures, and there was a tenderness that was developing in his underflesh. Would he break before they do? Only one way to find out. With a series of alien screamings and clicks the creature puts in enough valiant effort as to actually rock the wagon, and all of its tennants. There is a final scream of agony, as there is a sickeninly wet sound of *SNAP*ing a *CRaaaCK*ing. The chains seem to give way just as he does, and he collapses in a bloody, panting heap. Sticky ichor begins to seep from his cell slowly to the floor. HP: 0, Disabled, possibly ****ed.
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RL hit me with a 1-2 Punch. Will be back to regular posting rate soon. Last edited by JonnyGulliver; Dec 13th, 2011 at 06:30 PM. |
#13
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After several attempts to escape his chains, the mul next to Xia shakes his head.
You will not find escape that way, Mantis. That iron is too strong. He shakes his head slowly. Farther down the way, a large section of the locking mechanism on the cell holding the aarakocra cracks and splits, warping nearly double upon itself. The knot still holds the cell closed, but it now seems to be within easy reach of the occupants. The human woman in the same cell Dice *
clothing save vs. 8:
Across the wagon, the three half-elf women begin shrieking loudly, as if in pain. "No!" "You'll kill us all!" In his cell, the small dark man finds very little in the straw, but does discover a small chink in the exterior wall. It is barely large enough for a single finger, but does allow bright morning sunlight to enter. Warning: rolls have been deleted from this post.
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If you don't have the time to read, you don't have the time or the tools to write. ~ Stephen King Last edited by Coracodon; Dec 26th, 2011 at 04:17 PM. |
#14
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Sheryllin Nerel
HP: 31/31 PSP: 34/40 Human Psion (2)/Thief (2) Sheryllin squeeks in dismay and covers herself up as best she can. One arm over her chest, her legs squeezed together, and her right hand ready to slap the perv elf. She pushes herself into the farthest corner, glaring at all the other slaves.
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#15
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Idiots. Luki's pure white crest shot up with alarm and irritation as three voices cried out to her, and she gave a low, hoarse hiss. What if they attracted the attention of the guards? Then she set to work at the knot, using both claws and beak. She should have thought to cover what she was doing. These days wisdom and power were often mistaken for evil. People saw devils everywhere. And why shouldn't they? Maybe Luki should have spoken to them, or at least attempted to communicate, but all her energy went to untying the knot before the guards came back. Frightened animals. If they didn't like her way, then they needed to find a way of their own.
She blinked dark eyes at the loss of cloth. It failed to mean much to Luki, except that the human woman's frail skin would probably be subject to the harsh, burning sun. If they escaped. Even the woman's glaring meant nothing to the aarakocra, still laboring towards her escape. Modesty seemed a stupid waste of energy given the circumstances.
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Excitare Fluctus In Simpulo |
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