The Blackhearts (World of Dungeons) [IC]

[UserClone]

Welcome to the IC thread! [OoC Thread link] (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=288303)

For clarity, here is how I would like us to format our posts:

Actions are just regular text.

EXAMPLE: John reaches back to draw his sword.

Speech is in your color. Shouts can be capitalized, bolded and sized up to 3 (the default is 2), and whispers can be sized down to 2. This will make the thread very easily readable to anyone who is into AP. Quotes are helpful to differentiate what you privately think from what you actually say out loud.

EXAMPLES: John says, "I'm sorry, Sally, but there's no other way..."
John shouts, "I'LL KILL YOU! RAAAARGH!"
John whispers, "Stop standing there and play along! I can get us out of this!"

Private thoughts are italicized in your color, without quotes (so we know you aren't talking out loud).

I really hope the orcs don't notice we're just acting. At least until Sally can get to her quicksilver...

You already know how to roll, so if I ask you to roll with a stat, you'll know how. Best of luck with the forum RNG, as it loves to murder me when I play!:smalltongue:

"RIGHT! YOU LOT, LINE UP IN FRONT O' THE BARS AND KEEP YER MOUTHS SHUT!"

Warden Shahruz clutches Pain Talon, his prize possession, in his gnarled hand. Each of you has felt its sting on more than one occasion in the few weeks you've been in this awful place. The whip's terrible magic seals up any wounds its wielder causes, so it makes a wonderful persuasion tool while not risking the early demise of a prisoner. As Shahruz paces the line of inmates, he strokes its worn leather like a favored pet.

"I'm only going to say this once! This is yer chance to give the 'angman the laugh. Baron Thomer wants three able bodies, and if yer lucky, you'll be one of 'em.

"Rules are as follows: One! Ye don't look the Baron in the eye. Heads down, eyes down, unless Baron Thomer tells you differn't. Two! No speaking until spoken to. Three! You will immediately perform any order given you by the Baron, without question."

"Lastly, and most importantly, if you so much as *think* of layin' yer hands on a noble in *my* prison-"

"Actually, Shahruz, I believe this is *my* prison."

The Warden turns to see Baron Thomer, a man of olive skin and a largish build wearing red crushed velvet robes and a coronet of silver filigree, flashing him a dubious look.

"Of...of course that was what I meant to say, your grace. Will I get you a chair, your grace?"

The Baron gets a sour look on his face as he steps forward to allow room for Shahruz to exit the room, and motions for one of his bodyguards to go get the chair. The other two bodyguards continue to flank him.

"Shahruz, your pandering bores me. Leave us."

"But your grace, surely you don't want to be in here alone with these savages!"

"Feh. You think you can protect me better than Bartosz and Georgi? I said go. Now run along."

"I...I must...yes, your grace."

With a mix of resentment and trepidation, the Warden makes his exit from the room, just in time to be knocked flat on his back by the third guard, returning with the chair. The guard sets the chair down and Baron Thomer, rolling his eyes at Warden Shahruz, motions to the third guard.

"Yuri. Help Sharuz up. Apparently he can't even leave correctly."

With the guard's help, the warden finally leaves, and Yuri closes the door behind them.

[UserClone]

"Ahem."

Baron Thomer continues.

"It has come to my attention that this particular facility has something of a...reputation. I only need a few individuals, for a certain...task. If it's completed, you'll be spared the hangman's noose. You have my word on it.

"However, I'm not looking for just anybody. I need ruthless men, killers and cunning survivors. I'm tired of losing good men on this mission, and I think that somewhere within this room is what I've been missing.

"This mission won't be easy, and I can't guarantee you'll all survive, but there are other rewards...work to be done, in exchange for a better life. But that's only if you take the job. If you're not willing to take a suicide mission, better to just step back now."

Immediately, an old man on the end of the line steps back, as does a young-looking elven maid with a nasty-looking scar over her right eye.

What do you do?

[fireinthedust]

Alatar doesn't hesitate nor stay put, but steps forward to stand before the baron.

you have my services yet again, baron.

The good good doctor looks mad, fearlessness of the sort had by one with nothing left to lose.

[WPTunes]

Silk takes a step forward without looking around, clears her throat.


"At your service, Lordship. Dangerous and suitable to skulks and cutthroats? Sounds like my glass of gin. Also, I'd prefer not to die..."

[UserClone]

Looking at Alatar, the Baron walks over to him.

"Ah yes. You. I'm frankly not surprised that a fraud like you ended up here.

"And yet...yes, I think you'll do nicely for what I have in mind."

Turning as Silk steps forward, Thomer regards her. He begins to poke at her arms, groping at her calves as though he were a farmer inspecting a cow he were considering buying.

"Very well, then," He says over his shoulder as he walks down the line, looking at the others.

"Am I to understand that no one else wishes to remove their heads from the chopping block?"

"What's your angle?"

A surly looking fellow gives Baron Thomer an inquisitive look.

"As I said, there is a job that needs doing, and I'm tired of losing good men in the attempt. So I came here. For bad men. And women, miss whatever-your-name-is," he calls over his shoulder to Silk.

"Because I can offer you what no one else can. Freedom from your execution. Retrieve for me what I want and it happens. Guaranteed."

"Ah, stuff it. Don't need your help, anyway. ****in' nobles. Good for nothin' but trouble anyway. I'll take my chances here."

Baron Thomer seems momentarily taken aback by this, but retains his composure. His features tightening, he looks around. "Anyone else?"

[fireinthedust]

Alatar says nothing. The dig at his integrity does nothing to phase him, and he is long past caring about the opinions of those like the Baron.

[WPTunes]

Turning as Silk steps forward, Thomer regards her. He begins to poke at her arms, groping at her calves as though he were a farmer inspecting a cow he were considering buying.

"Very well, then," He says over his shoulder as he walks down the line, looking at the others.

Silk emits a low, dangerous sound somewhere between a growl and a purr. The Baron's bodyguards may or may not pay attention as her hands move to all of her traditional dagger hiding places. Unfortunately, she has no dagger, and her fingernails are chewed to the quick, so she doesn't attempt to draw any blood at the moment.

[UserClone]

"Very well. You and you will join them."

The Baron points to a young-looking boy with freckles and dirty red hair and a huge hulk of a man with scarred, deep brown skin and intense eyes.

"I didn't offer, your grace," the big man says, with a polite bow. "And I do not accept yours."

"Fine, then. He dies."

Baron Thomer points his finger at the wild-eyed boy, and it crackles with purple energy. Tears welling up in his eyes, he wets himself and, strangely, begins to growl like a cornered wolf.

"STOP! Alright, already. I get it."

"Better. Boys, let's go."

The two guards round you up and, with the third, they surround your little squad. They bring you into a carriage with no windows, and an impressively large padlock on the back. Threatening you with weapons, the guards load the prisoners in, and the bumpy ride to who-knows-where begins.

[fireinthedust]

Alatar sighs inwardly as the big man attempts to bluff the baron. A foolish notion, as the Baron holds all the dice.

The mage sizes up the new recruits, and gives Silk a look he learned in prison, one that means "work with me on this one".

"Your grace, this offer is most generous of you. I would get you what you seek, but I will need substantively more information than simply your word that this is a suicide mission. I need to know everything you know. I have learned the value of having the patronage of a nobelman, and you would have my gratitude and service if I was to survive. If we are to succeed, you will need to trust us with the details."

ooc: or is the Baron not with us? Looking again, it looks like we were just dumped into the wagon. I'm willing to have those be words Alatar calls out as the men shuffle them off.

[UserClone]

"That will have to wait, I'm afraid. Obviously, I couldn't be seen traveling with murderers, traitors, and thieves."

[fireinthedust]

Alatar settles into the carriage, making sure he's next to Silk for the ride.

Well, and here we are again. Sounds like we're being thrown through a meat-grinder. Which means we'd best use our heads better than the "good people" they threw in there."


"You, the big lug: don't antagonize the Baron when he's got a knife to your throat is a saying I just made up. You and the other prisoners know you're being sent to the hangman's noose, but you still refused the Baron's offer of a chance at freedom. Why? What do you know about this?

[UserClone]

"I trust that bastard far as I can throw him...we'll. Not even that far. I shouldn't even have been in that jail with you people. My crime was refusal to kill in the name of sport. War is one thing, y'know? But murdering a foe on his back in the arena..."

He gestures towards the boy.

"What's the sport in that, anyway?"

[fireinthedust]

None at all, though it's not about the sport. Gladiator games started as a way to amplify human sacrifice, legitimize it. The victims were made to fight each other for their own lives. Then audiences made it profitable. Honorable. He chuckles the last bitterly.

My name is Alatar, friends, a former physician and seer. The Baron was a patron once, and I had my own slaves, but I angered the wrong noble about a year ago, and spent it in the stocks and in the salt mines. What names are yours?

he waits on introductions, then continues.

Clearly we must work together to survive. Any information could save our lives. Have any of you heard of a mission or unearthed dungeon, or other danger, that could have them going through lives for long enough that we prisoners would be sent in? You must have heard something, even from the arena.


So... are we the only two here?

[WPTunes]

Silk glares at Alatar and spits. They call me Silk. I know Alatar all too well... almost family, you could say. I'm... let's say an acquisitions general practitioner. I know ass all about what sort of mission His Nibs might be sending us on, but I'll guarantee it's unpleasant, dangerous, and we'll almost certainly get screwed in the end.

[fireinthedust]

Alatar, perhaps reminded by the presence of the Baron of his high life before his fall, muses on Silk's spit and how numbed to such displays he's become in a year of harsh servitude. That and how happy he is to be in a place that isn't the dehydrating salt mine tunnels...