Dungeon World: Prison Break IC

[abadguy]

Hazy shapes swim before your eyes. You seem to be swimming underwater in a fog of nothing and nowhere. Red, blue, yellow places, familiar, you know the smells. The sights warm and inviting. People, humanoid shaped things, talking to you, raucous laughter but you cannot hear them. Noises, loud, soft, musical even. It is as though all your senses have been thrown into a bowl and being thoroughly mixed by an enthusiastic raging orc with a pestle.

You see visions of a ... man? With a rubbery mask over his face and ... needles in his fingers. You hear yourself screaming and you feel yourself pass out.

"Do not worry, this is all ... part of your treatment. You will be happy after this. Happier at least." The voice was soothing, with an undertone of menace.

You wake and find yourself..

Cormag

Receive the feat Improved Unarmed Strike. Also your unarmed strikes deal 1d4 not 1d3.

You are in a cell, 10 x 10ft. You are lying on the ground on your side. You realise you were drooling, a long line of saliva trailing from your mouth to the ground forming a puddle where your face was happily resting.

Various aches and pains around your body. You are dressed in a one piece rough linen gown cinched at the waist by a fraying rope belt.

And you realise your feet are manacled. Strange.

((Make a Fort Save along with your IC post))


Fernis Merson

You find yourself in a middle of a huddle. Two other humans are with you and looking at you eagerly. You are in a ... dark corner of some sort.

You are dressed in a one piece rough linen gown cinched at the waist by a fraying rope belt.

Seven small objects protrude from each of your hands.

((Make a Fort Save along with your IC post))


Samuel Haden

A loud "SPANG!" brings you to wakefulness. You look around. You seem to be in the middle of a forge. You have a wheelbarrow in your hands and seem to be waiting. A dwarven smith is tossing pieces of pig iron into your barrow.

You are dressed in a one piece rough linen gown cinched at the waist by a fraying rope belt.

And for some reason you are feeling really uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable.

((Make a Fort Save along with your IC post))


Grass

"Hey ... hey Thomas!"

You realise the presence of a ... humanoid? Everything is blobs...

He seems to be calling to you. You are dressed in a one piece rough linen gown cinched at the waist by a fraying rope belt. There is a broom in your hands. Speaking of which, four small object protrude from each of your hands.

The "man" (whom you now see clearly is a half-ogre) is approaching you.

"Thomas!" He thumps you on the back. "Are you quite all right, old man? You seem to have gone off in some fantasy for the longest time, broom in hand." He chuckles. He is holding what seems to be a big brush of some sort.

((Make a Fort Save along with your IC post))

[RaginChangeling]

Cormag

Breathing heavily, Cormag wiped his mouth as he sat up. He rattled his manacles for a moment, before leaning against the nearest wall. 'What the hell is going on?' he thought as he attempted to look around to assess the situation.


Fortitude Save
[roll0]

Spot Check
[roll1]

Listen Check
[roll2]

[abadguy]

Cormag

You wince in pain as a wave of nausea sweeps over you but you manage to fight it down.

Your memories are still unclear. You know you are in prison. Why? Not too sure yet.

You look around you. Bare 10 by 10 ft cell, walls are rough hewn stone and the floor is dirty but smooth. Old blood stains around your ankles, your knuckles and dried drops on your gown. The cell is dark save for a light which shines in from a torch in a sconce just outside the gate of your cell.

You hear ... your other ... cellmates? Further away but their moans are audible. A clanging somewhere far off. A low constant chattering sound can be heard somewhere in the mid distance.

((Now make 3 Wisdom OR Int checks))

[RaginChangeling]

Cormag



Wisdom or Int Checks

[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

[chrisrawr]

Sammy
Fort [roll0]
Sam begins to sweat horrendously as the heat from the forge rolls over him. He cinches his belt open a little, and fans himself by billowing his shirt. "How much more before I can cart this thing?" He yells to the dwarf.


((OOC: I've found that PbP games progress a lot smoother if the DM makes some of the passive rolls, such as saves and awareness. Would we be able to do something like that?))

[abadguy]

OOC
I'm fine with that as long as everyone is agreeable; it is preferable to me too. The thing is I know of some who prefer to do their own saves, 'having their destiny in their own hands' so to speak, and erred on the side of caution.

Raging, lemme get a few more IC post before I post up the results of your Int/Wis check


Sammy

He still feels very weak and his vision is still swimming, not helped by the heat and constant din from the forges. (His "belt" is in essence a short piece of frayed rope so what he did was to untie it). He fights the nausea back down but stumbles slightly even as he spoke to the dwarf.

(You are now Sickened for the next 24 hours)

Meanwhile, the dwarf eyes you levelly. "Ayup, just one more piece laddie. You dinnae look too good. Ar ye quite all right?"

[chrisrawr]

"If I looked as good as I felt, you'd be running for the guards!" Sam laughs, and it quickly turns into a groan as his stomach knots again. "I think I'm gonna hurl." And so he does.

Barrow full, he asks the dwarf again where he's bound to with this load, adding "This is the last one right? Jokes aside, I can't take much more of this." He kept the bit about being bored to death to himself, for fear it might come true.

[Torgarn]

Fernis grimaces studying the items imbedded into his hands.

Fort Save [roll0]

[abadguy]

Sammy

The dwarf tosses a final chunk into the wheelbarrow. "Ayup, you best be going now laddie .... to Hilforce Titan."

Hilforce Titan ... wuh?
You recall now that the forges are dedicated to Hephaestus and the smiths are actually priests of that particular god as well.
This is your 'day job'. Not too bad as jobs at a prison go.
Hilforce Titan is an important figure ... very important figure. Can't quite place your finger on why though.


Fernis

Even as Fernis gains his bearings, he feels a wave of nausea and stomach cramp wash over him but he fights it down, his face a mask of effort.

He examines the objects on the back of his hands. They looks like needles with a tiny cynlinder on the end stuck in between his knuckles. Ugh!

He flexes his fingers. They don't seem to impede his movements or use of his hand in any way.

OOC: Make a fist. The needles are stuck in such a way that the cylinders at the end protrude like how your knuckles do, two between each knuckle. The seventh is in the middle of the back of your hand, like how you do an IV in hospitals.

[Torgarn]

Fernis
Fernis looks at the two others, What are you looking at? he spits out angrily.

[abadguy]

Fernis

The pair look taken aback and immediately adopt a submissive posture. One of them speaks up.

"EErrhhhh .... sorry boss. You were telling us about a plan to take down the Two Sisters before you spaced out for a long while there. Are you feeling out of sorts, boss?

Boss? BOSS? Why are they calling me boss? What ...
You remember that you have a "gang" of sorts here in the prison. Pretty powerful, thanks to your magnetic personality. The Two Sisters are the leaders of a rival gang.

And these two human males are Deek and Dink, two 'lieutenants' in your gang, known to the rest as Fernis' Freaks

[Torgarn]

Fernis

Sorry about that, I was feeling nasty. Sorry my head is a bit fuzzy, what did I tell you about so far?

[tonberryking]

[roll0]

Being called a name that was neither his accepted nor real name, the 'old man' stirs.

Grass is shaken from a reverie that seemed to have lasted a lifetime before now. Rather than immediately strike out, he tries to steady his mind, his body. All the ogre sees is an 'old man' shifting his position to a more steady one, his eyes darting about almost erratically, except for when he looks down at his hands, wondering whatever could be wrong with them...

Spot check for his surroundings and ... I guess I don't need one for his hands, do I? [roll1]

[chrisrawr]

Sammy

The dwarf tosses a final chunk into the wheelbarrow. "Ayup, you best be going now laddie .... to Hilforce Titan."

Hilforce Titan ... wuh?
You recall now that the forges are dedicated to Hephaestus and the smiths are actually priests of that particular god as well.
This is your 'day job'. Not too bad as jobs at a prison go.
Hilforce Titan is an important figure ... very important figure. Can't quite place your finger on why though.



"Forgeblessing, underbrother," Sammy Sam made his way down to Hilforce Titan, dazed and confused. He managed to only throw up a couple more times on the way, dry heaves as there wasn't much in his stomach to begin with. He'd been stashing his food away to make a break for it later. He stopped for a minute, unsure of where he was going...

[abadguy]

Fernis
The pair look at each other uncertainly.

"Well boss, not much yet, you were just about to when you blanked out there for a moment."

"Yeah take it easy boss, maybe this whole gang war thing is too stressful."

They both stand up from their squatting position. "Maybe some food would help. It is almost Dinner Hour."

Grass
Grass barely fights down a rising sensation of nausea and stomach cramping. He takes control of his body once more, breathing deep.

When he snaps back into alertness, he is standing in a great hall, some 100 x 100 ft. Various altars line the walls along with benches and pews. The hall is empty save for himself and the half-ogre, who is dressed in some sort of armor covered in strange emblems, a large longsword sheathed at his waist.

Grass is holding a broom and from the looks of things, has successfully swept up a small hill of dirt and debris which the half-ogre is now standing in.

The objects protruding from his hands are needles with a tiny cylinder atop each. They are stuck almost parallel to the back of his hands. (Like how an IV is inserted, two apiece)

The hall is peaceful. Just outside the double door exit, he sees the occassion guard dressed in armor similar to the half-ogre's walk past.

Sammy
There is only one well trodden path past the forges to another large hall where a lone, well built figure is pumping the bellows to a blast furnace. Your memories focus for a moment and you know him to be Hilforce Titan. Hilforce is a title for the 12 warrior-knights of Odin. Why they are here ... you have not much clue. Or maybe your memories are failing you. The heat is unabating and your nausea does not help. Hilforce Titan (after a while you realise he is a Goliath) notices you entering.

"You may set the wheel barrow here." He indicates a space next to an anvil.

[Torgarn]

Fernis

That might be a good idea. I'm a bit fuzzy right now, could you give me an accounting of our forces and resources.

[chrisrawr]

Sammy Sam

Dropping the wheelbarrow with a thud, Sammy snaps off a salute towards the veritable giant, "G'day paps!" And with that, he collapses, heaving on the ground. "Dunno what's in me, sir," he wheezes, "But it's got me gut in a right mess."

[tonberryking]

Bowing his head in supplication,"Thomas" takes a moment to see how the work was going prior to his awakening and simply goes back to brooming. Busying himself with work, trying to ignore the additions to his hands and just play his part of a very humble servant. Under his drooping bangs his eyes keep darting about, particular at the outside hall to register more of his prison.

When he's finished cleaning, the old man keeps his head bowed and waits near the door, as if expecting to be told where else to go.

[roll0] 'nother spot check. Also, does that half ogre have anything else in the way of weapons? Easily lifted and pinched knives or weapons on the wall? For my plan of action, Grass is going to keep playing the broom-man until he's in some open place or can slip away unnoticed. Patience is the name of the game.

[abadguy]

Cormag

You last remember a lot of blood on your hands. On the ground, what was once a face, now a pulped mess of gore. Around you all the other prisoners are cowering, fear plain on their faces and soiling their garments. You hear yourself snarl yet it does not seem like you are the one snarling. You feel yourself launch forward and grab another hapless elf. "Blood for the blood god!" You hear yourself crow as you land a knee in the elf's face, his broken nose now fountaining blood.

Run! Run! Cormag has gone berzerk again!

This is when you don't remember anymore and you snap back to reality. Manacled. Alone. In a cell.


Fernis

"Welps, we gots us about two score fighting men and women, and smattering o' plebs, they pays credits to us regular like."

"Yep yep. Ans' we gots us some shivs we do!"

"Maybe when we scrap 'nuff credits we can go buy something from the gnome or from Friend."

"Yep yep. So yes boss, we are pretty strong here in the Black Sun."

"Yeah! You are number four!"


Sammy
The goliath does not speak further, only lifting the pieces of iron up to his furnace, heating them up before setting to work on them with a huge hammer, beating it into shape.

Sammy continues to sit there watching him. ((Anything else you would like to do here?))

Grass

As he looks intently, yes, the half-ogre is armed with a longsword but it is securely buckled and sheathed at his side. No other indication of other weapons... or at least you don't see them.

The half-ogre watches you for a while before losing patience.

"All right, carry on, seems like you are not in your usual mood for your normal philosophical rantings."

He leaves you to your cleaning.

The hall looks like a one meant for religious functions. Almost all the major dieties you can remember are represented here. Nothing in the way of weapons though, just simple wooden altars, carvings and religious odds and ends.

He spends a while sweeping, sweeping sweeping and more sweeping ... while at the door he notices a couple of guards outside, looking bored. Outside is a long hallway, about 25 ft wide, going left and right. One of the guards notice you and says "Hello Thomas, are you about done? It is about ten minutes to the Dinner Hour."

[Torgarn]

Fernis

Who are numbers one, two and three? The gnome and Friend, who are they?

[RaginChangeling]

Cormag

'What was that?' he thought as he began to tug at his manacles. He strained to hear something, anything, that would tell him what was going on.

[abadguy]

Fernis

Why boss, I'm surprised you don't know this, after all that trouble to get to numba four.

Hrmm must be that blow to the head he took, fighting off the Sisters.

Nasty that was! So yeah, the Egregious Eight of Black Sun: number one is undoubtedly Cormag the Crazed. Tough sunnovaorc and packs a mean punch. Two is the Kilgore the half-dragon. Three is unbelievably, Thomas the old man. No one can touch him when fighting and he brings those who dare challenge him down so fast. Four is yourself of course. Five and Six are the Two Sisters, Milly and Molly. Seven is the gnome, The Master of Illusions, who controls the black market along with Eight, Friend.

Friend. Pah. Deek hawks and spits on the ground behind him. Oily, slimy fella. Can't fight worth a damn yet somehow he has some many falling at his feet in supplication.

Just as he finishes speaking, a very loud bell rings, audibly to where you are.

DINNER HOUR! the pair shout in unison. They dust themselves off and set off down a hallway.


Cormag

He recalls he has been here for two weeks, punishment for someone he almost pummeled to death with his fists in a haze of rage. How the fight started, why he became so violent ... he had no idea. He was usually not so hot-headed.

A bell rings. Cormag hears a key in the lock and the door swings open, revealing a guard in armor, holding manacles, four others behind him standing ready. He sneers at the half-orc

"Solitary is up. It is dinner hour. Stand still for your chains or we'll put them on you with spears."


Sammy

A bell rings throughout the smithy. Hilforce Titan stops his pounding for a moment and looks at him. "Run along to the dining hall now little gnome."

Outside, Sammy sees the dwarves and their helpers throwing down their tools and filing out.


Grass

Before Grass can respond to the guard's enquiry, a bell rings throughout the hallway. "Ah dinner hour is early. Strange." the guard says. "Set down your broom Thomas, and head on down to the dining hall."

Streams of prisoners start to appear, heading down the hallway to his right.

[tonberryking]

Saved by the early dinner from possibly implicating himself, 'Thomas' puts the broom down gently and assumes a plaintive gait towards the right hallway. Without breaking into a quicker stride, Grass merges into the crowded throng of prisoners with his eyes and ears alert. The place resembles nothing of the prison he'd be hurled into before this and was torturous as that could have been, he knew enough of his former comrades to know that whatever was piercing his hands wasn't part of their typical methodology. He looks to see if any other prisoners are spiked like him, but more importantly, the shadowy hearted man quickly tries to fish for information along the way to dinner.

OOC: Gather Information check; a more passive approach to just listen in on WTF is going on, and if any other prisoners can quickly tell him what the things are in his hands: [roll0] Also a spot/listen combo: [roll1][roll2]

[Torgarn]

Fernis

Fernis follows his lackeys to where dinner is being served. Can you point out my main competitors for me?

[RaginChangeling]

Cormag

Cormag stands utterly still as the guards chain him, his head still spinning slightly as they marched him down the hall to the dining area. He looked at his hands as they walked, almost surprised at this scars and hard calluses that lined them. He never thought they'd be so good at hitting.

[chrisrawr]

A bell rings throughout the smithy. Hilforce Titan stops his pounding for a moment and looks at him. "Run along to the dining hall now little gnome."

Outside, Sammy sees the dwarves and their helpers throwing down their tools and filing out.

Sammehboi

"Blegh," Samuel mutters, out-stuck tongue quickly losing its moisture in the hot, dry air. "Call me again when you need more metal rocks to ruin, your Hilforciness." And with that, he slunk off to the mess.

Stealthily sliding into a Gnome-sized gap in the dinner line, he lets the oblivious man whose spot he stole stumble into him, feigning betrayed anger and shock. "Just because us Gnomes are smaller than you bigfolk doesn't mean you can go walking all over us! You' got a problem with my race, you' got a problem with ME!" he shouts at the man, waving and flapping his arms about, before pulling a dagger.

Hide, Move Silently, Bluff, Intimidate
[roll0], [roll1], [roll2], [roll3]

[abadguy]

You each enter the dining hall. It is huge, big enough to accommodate the entire prison population and guards on the sides.

Fernis

As you join the queue for food, you notice a commotion near the entrance.

A muscular half orc is lead in by the guards with chains on his hands and his feet manacled. Where he walks, the others clear a wide berth, letting him pass. The guards lead him to a table where they remove the chains on his hands and toss a wooden plate and spoon in front of him. No one sits within a one table radius of him.

Dink leans over and whispers "That's numba one ... Cormag the Crazed. Heard he keel'd again last week!"


Grass

As you join the queue for food, you notice a commotion near the entrance.

A muscular half orc is lead in by the guards with chains on his hands and his feet manacled. Where he walks, the others clear a wide berth, letting him pass. The guards lead him to a table where they remove the chains on his hands and toss a wooden plate and spoon in front of him. No one sits within a one table radius of him.

You notice the man in front of you lean in to whisper to the strange man in front of him

Listen DC 15 to open
"That's numba one ... Cormag the Crazed. Heard he keel'd again last week!"


Sammy

He slips in and out noiselessly and even when making his bold proclamation, no one seems to take notice of him at all. Instead, their attention is transfixed on a muscular half orc is lead in by the guards with chains on his hands and his feet manacled. Where he walks, the others clear a wide berth, letting him pass, a palpable look of fear in their eyes. The guards lead him to a table where they remove the chains on his hands and toss a wooden plate and spoon in front of him. No one sits within a one table radius of him.


Cormag

You are lead in by the guards with chains on your hands and your feet manacled. You feel all eyes on you as you where. Where you go, everyone clears a wide berth, letting you pass. The guards lead you to a table where they remove the chains on your hands and toss a wooden plate and spoon in front of you. No one sits within a one table radius of you.

[chrisrawr]

Samminator

With such an immediate reaction, all eyes on the orc-boy, Samuel knows he's got no chance of reclaiming the center of attention. Such a bother, then - He'll have to go see what this is all about.

Making use of the distractions, he uses his time wisely. [roll0] Lifting the plate off the man behind him, he scoots forward [roll1], [roll2] between the line and the wall, scooping whatever gruel he can onto his plates. [roll3] Then, he does what anyone would - walks over to the orc, and sits down beside him, sliding over his extra plate of prison mush. "Nice t'meetcha, but y'er stealin' my spotlight, pal. Got a name?"

[Torgarn]

Fernis
Does Cormag have any issues with us?

[abadguy]

Sammy

Many inmates give you odd looks as you walk up to join the orc at his table. Clearly, they think you are somewhat suicidal. The guards that were just leaving were surprised by your sudden appearance. They look at you, contemplating whether to intervene before shrugging and moving away.


Cormag

A gnome suddenly appears on a seat next to you, slides you a plate of the gunk they call food here in the prison and says, "Nice t'meetcha, but y'er stealin' my spotlight, pal. Got a name?"


Fernis

Naw, he's too just too badass for anyone to touch. That is why he is numba one. Everyone respects power, especially in the form of pure brutal physical force.
Hmmm boss, maybes you shoulda go talk to him ... get 'im on our side eh?
Foh! That would do wonders for our cred it would!


Grass

The bunch of shifty types in front of you are tittering on about something. You feel something poking you in the back though. Something hard and pointy.

[Torgarn]

Fernis

I'd prefer going to someone lower than us, being in a position of power is always good when bargaining.

[chrisrawr]

My grandmother died this morning (Sunday, June 19, 2011). I'm going halfway across the country to her funeral, and will be largely unable to post for the next week. Sorry for the inconvenience. If this game is still alive, DMPC me as a mix between Loki, the trickster god, and mini-me, from Austin Powers.