Discord of the Abyss - Prisoners

[~Corvus~]

Captured by Drow!

You stir in your sleep. Someone new is here. A human man yelps. Your cell door slams closed, rousing you from your body's latest attempt to have you sleep. Is he familiar? Probably. From his just-recently bandaged hand and his sloppily cut beard and just-scarred face, the man has endured one of the Drow's particularly horrible torture-sessions, where healers cure a person as they are being cut. It stops most of the scarring, but it won't prevent the pain. Or, in this person's case, the third loss of a finger and an eye. The only one "asleep" in this cell now is a construct...but does it sleep or just power down? Wherever it was captured was a long ways away from where you were captured. The man coughs wetly as he stumbles and trips over a tiefling--she's given up, poor woman--and catches his fall on his wounded hand and utters a string of curses to gods, many of whom you've yet to hear of. He and you all only have rags. Your equipment is...gods know where, but it's long-gone, and the cell has one bucket and a slanted hole in a corner for...well, you all don't linger in that corner of the cell.

The human finds a wall and looks at all of you. As he nurses his hand, he turns to one of you and says, "Name's Grindol. From Erlkazar, if you believe that. How about you lot?" The tiefling woman only reacts to his words with an eye twitch. The man looks to the other four of you. "Well?" What else do you have to do? It's pitch-black down in your cell. Prisoners that use any magic, especially light-magic, are beaten until they're nearly dead. There was even a dwarf--or was it a bariaur, or perhaps a githzerai?--anyways, when you were captured they were actually beaten to death, as a demonstration to what happens to anyone that attempts to kill the guards and escape.

In your silence, Grindol continues. "Was a brewer back on the surface. Had no thought that, even if the underchasm was so far away, I could be taken. But why? What purpose do we serve?"

[Ramsus]

https://i.pinimg.com/564x/33/64/6c/33646cdd20a4bbe41f4ebda903034c51.jpg
Antler (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2247097)
Warforged Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 13/13
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: --
Concentration: --

The construct stirs suddenly at this talking, though it does not get up as it has been feigning that it is badly damaged for days now. It's voice has a strange metallic quality to it and quite deep, "I am known as Antler." it says, pointing a finger up at the antler-like protrusions upon its head. "The other I was with was slain by a large floating eyeball creature. A 'beholder' I believe she called it. The entrance we used had collapsed and in searching for another, I was captured. These drow are slavers. I do not know what specific purpose they may have in mind for us."

[Anachronity]

In one corner of the small and lightless cell is a particularly battered-looking feminine form. A closer inspection would reveal snakelike scales covering most of her bruised body, particularly the head, shoulders, torso, and extremities. Further serpentine traits could be seen in her face and its inhuman snout and eyes. Her chest and belly are also covered, though instead with wider white scales common to a reptile's underbelly.

She spends a lengthy time after the new prisoner's introduction carefully avoiding any sound, movement, or eye contact. She remains so until well after their sadistic captors had left. That she could perform mental magic, free of any bodily impediments, had earned her their ire and abuse. She had and would be beaten for so much as an unexpected noise or a guard happening to sneeze while near her. When she'd first arrived she had called herself "auvrael" - not a name, but close enough - and tended to the wounds of her fellow prisoners. That inclination had been... discouraged.

And so now she remains silent. She regards with mistrust this 'human' newcomer now looking at each of them in turn. For he was looking. In pitch darkness.
Considering his condition it was unlikely their captors saw fit to leave him a spell or magical trinket. More likely he was no more human than she.

[Tjallen]

An incredibly bald orcish man sits off to the side, his features almost stereotypical, fangs, dark skin and large muscles. His confident is, however, look somewhat ruined by the fact that he is looking straight into a wall and obviously cannot see in the dark. The milky white of his eyes attesting to some sort of injury or illness. "I am Zolkir of Clan Red-Hand-Face, roughly translated, I am a butcher and apparently went to sleep in the wrong tavern."

[WarHunter]

Phoyx

Making his way across the cell, glancing at the conditions with disgust. This is easily in the bottom 5 places I have have stayed. this cyan skinned with green markings aquatic looking elf like male sat down. If he had clothes before his capture they were no where to be found now.
Approaching the bars, in odd accented elvish I would like to speak with the one in charge.

[~Corvus~]

Before anyone else can speak up, you hear hushed voices of the drow and the chittering of spiders. The cell door opens. One drow, likely a wizard by the leatherbound book he carries follows four crossbowmen. They have the typical toneless grey-white pallor of most drow, and they line up just inside the entrance to the cell. A woman in dark-grey silk walks in. At her hip is a whip, and she looks at all of you with disinterest...except for Grindol. To him she growls, "I hear you could give no more information, half-human, about your elven family. It's too bad your human cities have such poor oral traditions. She waves her hand in the general direction of Grindol and says, "You may feed him to the spiders. Shackle the others and ship them to the mine.

The tome-bound drow makes a few gestures and whispers softly. Less then a minute later, other drow have come, Grindol has been given a poison that makes foam pour from his mouth and wracks him with terrible spasms, and you have been manacled and neck-collared. Your captors walk you a long ways to a simple longboat. You're all made to row the ship while several gnome slaves that have also been shipped with you--but whom are too short and weak to row--are forced to do odd dances, eat strange plants, and sing songs (in gnomish) for the drow crew. It takes well over eight hours, and you catch some breaks when the water currents carry you. The end of the journey leaves all of you drained, and in an exhausted state, the rest of your journey is a blur.

You're stopped at a waterfall. You're brought to a mine, indeed, and after a short meal of mushrooms, are immediately put to mining work despite your restraints. Several of the gnomes, previously believed to be useless, show their deftness with smaller picks and find certain ore--quickly seized, of course--and are removed for "special projects." You're worked until even the whippings won't rouse you from the need for rest, and you're dragged into a holding pen with ten other wacky humanoids. Many of them have pity on you, and give you space to rest.

--

You've had just enough time to know that your backs ache from the rowing and swinging of picks, and that the cool floor feels a little good to the abuse your backs have gotten In this pen, a kuo-toa--a rubbery-skinned fish-headed humanoid--talks to a powerful-bodied quaggoth, a humanoid reminiscent of a werewolf in shape and size. They are breathing, the kuo-toa leading the other. Two svirfneblin rouse from a nap and walk over to the powerful quaggoth and begin to breathe, too. In another area, a derro--a small, bearded humanoid--talks with an orc and another deep gnome. In another area, a dwarven lady, a badly-beaten drow, and what appears to be a myconid sprout--a small plant-person--convalesce or rest.

The deep gnome who'd been talking with the orc and derro saunters over as you all begin to rouse from your imperfect slumber. "First day is always the worst. Ooh, what an interesting group. I bet twelve silver I can name all your races. Let's see... he pauses to purse his lips. Ooh, a yuan-ti, a blind half-orc..A most human-looking modron and... he pauses to inspect the ray-like fins of Phoyx. Clearly an animal hybrid made by a terrifying mage. Well, how did I do? I'm Jimjar, and I'll be your secretary for this here slave pen. He rattles his manacles at you and gives a laugh that might be more annoying if he hadn't looked like he was so excited for new faces. It must be dreary being slaves to the drow, but one of these days we're going to escape! We help each other. You'll see.

[WarHunter]

These drow give terrible massages, they didn't work out any of my knots,
dwarves and even orcs are better if you can fine one that knows what they are doing. in his accented elvish. Rolls on to his feet and tests the bars stability.

[~Corvus~]

This holding pen has solid steel bars, free from imperfection. There's no sign of where they're bolted: it seems the bolts are hidden at the top, outside the cell, and the bottom of the cell has worked stone that covers the true bottom of the bars.

[Anachronity]

Secretary? I take it you've been a useful one to them, if you've been here long enough to see so many different sorts of slaves. she both states and accuses of the spirited Jimjar. It was hard for her to get a good read on his sincerity, but that was not unique to him. After a pause she decides that he means well, or at least that it would be easier to assume he does. When she speaks again her voice is more genial.

I am auvrael. And I will be happy to pay you your silver if only I can find my coin pouch.
Again she does not give her name, instead substituting the word for "friendly yuan-ti" from the serpentfolks' particular dialect of draconic. The latter part is intended in jest, but is delivered too flatly.

[Tjallen]

"Ah, I am not blind, so almost, I just happen to suffer from a severe case of night blindness. Very common in orcs twice my age. You wouldn't happen to have some light, I seem to be quite lost in this darkness." Zolkir nods in a direction that definitively is not towards the voice that spoke to him.

[~Corvus~]

Secretary? I take it you've been a useful one to them, if you've been here long enough to see so many different sorts of slaves.
I am auvrael. And I will be happy to pay you your silver if only I can find my coin pouch.

The derro walks over. He strokes his beard, and it strikes you all that he looks like a half-sized dwarf. "Ah, Jimjar is kidding. The deep gnome gives him a glare and the derro laughs. He has a head for numbers. He makes bets with all of us, and he keeps track of what he owes, or what we owe. He's a gnome of his word. If you're really lucky, he'll bet you a mining shift and you can relax longer. But hey, as long as we're here, we might as well work together. Like Stump over there. He points to the myconid. Stump helps us communicate better while mining. And the dwarf over there, Eldeth? She helps...well, most of us. he looks at the orc. Eldeth and Ront are from rival tribes, apparently. They've been together down here for a while, and they still haven't buried the hatchet.

So...what's with all of you? Here to help us all escape?

H-hey! don't talk so loud.

Oh please. It's not like they think we actually could, and we're in a dead-magic zone. Plus... the derro leans in. They expect us to try to break out. They're all really bored. The derro gives a laugh.

[Anachronity]

Uonyil scowls at the mention of a dead magic zone. Something had felt off, though it had been some time since she'd even dared attempt any of her magic.

"How far does it extend, do you know?" she asks quietly of the Derro.
More furtively, she attempts to focus on inuring herself to cold. There were no hazards present, per se, but she attempts to notice if the cool stone floor feels any different than before.

[Tjallen]

The orc listlessly listen to the disembodied voices ringing out in the darkness before abruptly, and loudly, breaking into the conversation:
"BUT WHAT ABOUT SOME LIGHT?... Need some of that in this Shargass blessed place." The last part is mumbled in a slightly more conversational tone.

[~Corvus~]

The derro faces the yuan-ti and comments, "You know, Stump really only tries to use his spores when we're out mining and whatnot. He walks over to the myconid and wakes it up. Stump screeches and jabbers back at the derro, who eventually decides to let it be. "Ah, he says most magic not essential to life is blocked here. It's the stones, he says.

Whatever, Jimjar retorts. If any of you actually get some interesting gossip out of Buppido here, let me know. Otherwise, i'll be sleeping until we are called out for another task. He motions to the derro, then sweeps his hands to you newcomers.

I'm sure the magic you have will work outside the cells. Plus, you know, these conditions we're working in is going to give some day soon. You mark my words. But i'd be careful if I was you, and don't use too much.

Uonyil feels her mind press against a terrible weight. She uses the right thoughts in the right way, and for a brief moment, the mental strain of trying to grant herself a reprove from the cold floor leaves her flushed and her heart a few flutters fasters. But the cold of the floor persists, and she remains--at least in the cell--powerless.

[Ramsus]

https://i.pinimg.com/564x/33/64/6c/33646cdd20a4bbe41f4ebda903034c51.jpg
Antler (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2247097)
Warforged Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 13/13
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: --
Concentration: --

"I am not a modron." Antler eventually replies to Jimjar and holds out a hand in the direction of the voice for his money.

"I do not intend to stay a captive forever. Do any of the rest of you have intentions to make an escape at some point?" he asks.

[WarHunter]

Phoyx

Finding a set of bars farthest from the guards, Phoyx suddenly takes a stance and his fins spread and vibrate with intensity. Gripping the bars he strains to pull them apart, bending or snapping them. Flexing them back and forth maybe he will weaken them or snap the bolts fastening them to the frame. His unusual physique bulges disturbingly, as if a kraken was moving his limbs beneath his molted scaled hide.

[~Corvus~]

Jimjar turns around to return to Antler. Oh! Not a modron. So I did pretty good though, right? I suppose I owe you two silver then. I'll add it to your tally. So then...where were you made? What made you, if not a very industrious society? Jimjam has a much more curious tone than he had as he'd been walking away. He's silenced, though, by the quaggoth, the orc, and the Kuo-toa, all of whom have finished their own chores when Antler had mentioned escape intentions. The orc, a good six feet tall, clearly envied the towering seven-and-a-half foot tall quaggoth whose rippling muscles and a quick stride hadn't yet deteriorated in captivity.

As Phoyx strains, pulls on and struggles with the bars, the Kuo-toa walks quietly to Antler. We have not been idle. According to what the Prince claims, he jerks his fishy hand at the Quaggoth, The guards raid the pen every month just in case. It's only been ten days since the last raid, and we managed to hide a few things in the walls: a few rusted pipes and five feet of silk rope. I kno-

And the tarantula, interrupted Ront, the orc. Stump keeps it safe.

But that's not a weapon.

Like I said the last time, it's a good distraction, as Kzekarit pointed out, Ront gestured over to the drow--currently asleep--they practically worship or avoid those spiders.

It's not a certain distraction.

Well it's a better idea than you've come up with Shuushar, Ront countered. You don't like the idea because the spider might come to harm. Gods forbid we harm a spider, you--

The Kuo-toa pressed a finger over the orc's mouth. Ront started breathing heavily until the fish-man says with a calming voice, "I think we should all save our strength. Remember what the guards told us? Tomorrow is a big day. We'll be mining for a long while.

The quaggoth, having appraised the newcomers, walks over to Phoyx. His gait is a little awkward, as would the pace of any who looked like a permanently-shapeshifted werewolf, but he does have a posture that belies his beastly appearance. His speech is elegant and refined, with a high-elf accent. We suspect the bars have Adamantine cores. Four of us--myself, Eldeth the dwarf, Ront the orc, and Shuushar the kuro-toa--all tried pulling together and we didn't shift it from the foundations.

Don't worry, friend. Let's have a good day mining tomorrow, and we can talk escape once we're finished with our rest.

[Anachronity]

"We will need a way for those whom are blind in the darkness to see... How are they able to mine...?" Uonyil muses aloud, looking at the nightblind half-orc

Belatedly, she considers something else that was said.
"A 'big day'? Is that unusual?"

[~Corvus~]

Shuushar gives a shrug. I've been enslaved before. The way the guard talked, he was excited...in the kind of way that amoral humanoids get when something really awful is going to happen, and they don't want to tell you because the anticipation of it is almost as good as if not better than the event itself. I don't know what, but we're going to suffer. You might as well try to get some sleep.

The kuo-toa's words seem to resonate with the two deep-gnomes that haven't left each others' sides. If you take a good, deep look at them, maybe you'll see a hint of something that they've lost. A part of their soul, perhaps, or their sanity? You aren't sure...unless you talk to them.

But even if you decide to do so, and despite the fact that you might be in a dead-magic zone, you do feel weary.


But your sleep doesn't pass well.

Antler dreams of a terrible river, a river whose waters' name eludes him. Sticks? Stix? Why is he thinking about branches when he should be thinking of a river's name? It's just beyond his grasp, yet his arms will not extend far enough. No matter how much power he puts into his fingers' extension, they elude him.

He sees a dwarf with a patchy, red-and-white beard. Parts of his face are seared off from terrible scars, and one eye glows with the red luminosity of his kind. The man grins and a boyish chuckle erupts from his lips. "Open up, you! I can't wait to change you!! Open up, open up!! I will fix you, promise! I'm almost heeereee...!"

Antler backs away, and he falls into static. Slowly, the sounds of static shifts into a buzzing sound, which then morphs into the drone of insects. He sees pods, millions of them, covering a purple-mountained land. The pods sprout from the land, a red-green bloat that balloons from the surface, almost as casually as water might bubble up from the ground, but then they remain. The pods grow and grow...aeons pass as he waits and waits and waits, in the paradox of several dream seconds' eternity.

Every time he pushes past the scene, more insects sprout, and then others, and then others sprout; and still he must wait. At least here, he does not need to be subject to that one-eyed, partially-bearded dwarf.

You see a vast network of webs. Throughout them, umbral shapes walk and crawl, but all of them carry unseen pods. If someone interacts with another, often the pods will transfer to another through long, barbed hooks--again unseen--that sprout from the pods and pass from being to being. Some pods are red as mars, and others a deep wine; others a vibrant yellow, or a lush green, or even black. When a creature gets hurt, it also seems that these invisible pods also burst. It could be physical pain, or anguish, grief, or even just sombre contemplation, doesn't matter: the pods carry the pains that anyone else feels. As you inspect the scene closer, it's not pods at all. In fact, no one carries pods. Everyone has on their outer skin/fur/shells huge, sausage-shaped spores that are, oddly enough, too small for anyone else to see. These spores are maggots that are waiting, and suck in the life-essence of all around them. When a creature dies, the maggots divide and multiply, and cover the bodies, and yet no one else sees them: the maggots appear as a smelly liquid, too trivial to brush away. But once in a while, the spore-sausages sprout terrible tentacles and float from the bodies onto another living being.

You're really the only ones that can see the spores. And soon, when there's enough of the spores, they sprout many more tentacles. You're in a massive room with a million other humanoids, and a wriggling, many-tentacled darkness sprouts from every person, and you the deaths as if they were your own.

There is no beginning or ending: they happen at once, and you feel each of them in their own time. You feel them in the vast plurality that most mortals first grasp in their dreams. A name comes to you:
____ ___ ___
They are the only one who can save you. Everyone else is just an imposter. Give yourself to ____ ___ ___ and you'll be saved from the writhing, endless death that awaits everyone else.

[WarHunter]

Phoyx
Grumbles to himself Great we are going to fight something or each other for their amusement. he sort of zones out and slowly walks into the wall and walks along the wall, like how fish swim when sleeping, except with his eyes closed he doesn't avoid anything in his sleep walks.

[Ramsus]

https://i.pinimg.com/564x/33/64/6c/33646cdd20a4bbe41f4ebda903034c51.jpg
Antler (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2247097)
Warforged Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 13/13
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: --
Concentration: --

After waking up, a new sensation for Antler, he is noticeably alarmed and disturbed. But he doesn't say anything. Mainly because he doesn't know what to make of the dream or how he'd even begin to express it.

[~Corvus~]

Time is immaterial in the dark. Eventually, despite the indescribable nature of the dreams and your will to stay awake, sleep finds you.

Although the cell has a brief cage-opening in the middle of the night, the other cell-occupants pretend to be asleep. In the midst of sleep, An arrival of ten guards is nothis new, it seems, and the rest of the inmates are quite content to feign sleep if they are awakened at all. Zolkir and Antler are taken away quietly and without fuss, with many of the guards ready...and just outside the cell, if you pay attention, is the unspoken but very believable possibility that giant, hungry spiders wait for you to appear and become a meal.

But soon enough they are gone.

~~~

Antler wakes up to the feeling of three hammers placed at his head, and a drow's pale face lit by dim red light: he shakes his head and puts a finger to his lips. A fourth drow maneuvers his manacles to quickly remove him from the holding cell. Zolkir, too, wakes up, but with the feeling of three knife points on his throat. A voice hisses to him in Orcish, "silence. Follow."

The two of you are let to a chamber lit with pale, red-light lamps that, although they give some illumination, are not enough for you to see fine details or further than 40 feet from you. The center of the room has five stone slabs arranged in a ring and a partially-dissected body is on three of the five slabs. You might feel the need to examine these bodies if not for the chilling figures at the room's center: a darkskinned dwarf and tall, svelte drow dressed in fine dragonskin armor. The dwarf, you can see, has an eyepatch, an apron smeared in blood, and elbow-length gloves that overlay his basic cloth robes; the gloves, too, have a decent amount of blood on them. I heard that two of my new slaves couldn't see in the dark, announces the elf. That won't do at all. I won't have slaves that are useless. Priest Vandrem, I expect these slaves to either be able to see when I next arrive.

Of course mistress Mizzrym. I can design something for the...machine from old modron bits, but the orc may be tricky. He waddles over to Zolkir who, still flanked by three knife-wielding drow, is forced to bend down and endure a quick look-over by the dwarf. Yes, his eyes will have to be replaced, but the ones I have might not take.

Then he will be meat, and you will provide me a replacement slave from one of your acolytes.

Y-yes, mistress Mizzrym. I will begin right away. Guards, put them to sleep.
Antler feels the brief and powerful discharge of lightning; The mace-wielding drow around him cry out in pain, and Antler hears the thud of bodies as he passes into unconsciousness.

Zolkir hears a loud arc of lightning, too, but sees no typical flash of light with it. Instead, after the barest of pricks on his neck, his eyes feel very heavy, and he can hear voices talking as he succumbs to the powerful poison he's been given.

Uggghhh...remove their bodies and get me skeletons. What a WASTE of good soldiers!
Milady, our necromancers are sleeping.
All of them?!? You have ten minutes to wake one or...

Antler stirs briefly. His head is constrained by some device. His eyes are...different now. He can...see the cobwebs and the uneven stone of the ceiling, but it is black-and-white. Although it's fairly disorienting, his circuits seem capable enough that the new sensation only comes as new--but not hazardous--information. He overhears a quiet conversation nearby:

>Well?
...well what?
>Did the procedure go well?
He hears a sigh.
Only in the machine.
>What are you going to do?
With the changeling? Give it to the spiders. But first, I'm harvesting its nerves.
>Is there a reason?

...do all drow guards have to be so obtuse? Where is my assistant?
>She went to sleep last moonfall.
Well, who's avaiable now?
>Iznikx or Zolkir.
They're better than quaggoth, I guess. Bring them both in.
>Sir.


Well now, both of you. Unfortunately, this procedure has been bungled, and one of you is going to replace the poor slave that couldn't survive the operation.
{{Doctor?
Yes, Iznix.
{{Are we being punished?
Aren't we all, in a way, Iznix? None of us wish to be here, yet...here we are. Now steady on and let me explain the procedure. YOu are to remove all of this humanoid's spine, and preserve as much of its nerves as you can. I expect you both to work together, and don't you dare think for a moment I won't know who cut what how! I know the way each of your scalpel and bone-saw cuts look. Whoever does the better job will be spared the fate of being a slave.
Now get to work!!
{{yessir
<<RIght away!


~~~

You all awake to the smell of mushroom soup. It doesn't look terribly appetizing, but some of the occupants--Prince Derendil and Topsy & Turvey--remark quickly that the extra pork added to the soup is a rare and delicious treat. Several of the others remark that it's actually quite tasty, and all but the kuo-toa down their food with gusto. Shuushar eats the soup, but offers the meat slices to anyone else. The Prince and Ront have an argument with each other about who should have the extra meat, but after several minutes of bickering Shuushar offers to share it with them as equally as he can. The Prince, as the towering quaggoth he is, has a little more, but Ront ultimately says nothing.

Jimjar--the betting gnome "secretary"--catches the eyes of Antler, Phroyx and Uonyil and uses the brief argument to tell them, Remember to keep an eye out for useful things today. A sharp piece of flint, bits of shale, gemstones...some coin if you can manage. We're gonna try to break out before we're shipped to Menzoberranzan, but the raft is late, we heard. So keep your eyes open today.

Without warning, Prince Derendil--the quaggoth--and Ront, the orc decide that, despite there not being food left, they'd rather fight. And so the two of them do. They rage and scream, grab each others' throats, punch and grapple each other, and even though the orc topples the quaggoth's posture and rushes him into a side of your holding space, the beast fights back still with fury. Two of the three guards look concerned at first, but they only laugh and shout for others to enjoy the spectacle. THere's an observation space across a bridge from your cell, and a few of the guards trot over to watch the fight unfold.

[Anachronity]

"Stop this!"
Uonyil inwardly curses the absence of her hard-earned abilities, and instead interjects herself into the melee as safely as she is able. She relies on words over strength of arm to separate them, using proximity only to increase her presence.

"Who do you hate?" she demands, trying to catch the gaze of one or the other, to distract them from their target. If they could stop for even a moment, then the true answer should be obvious. She could feel their gleeful gazes upon the fight, could feel her own hatred for them even though she'd been here not nearly as long as these two.
"What has he taken from you, and what have they taken?"

[roll0]

[WarHunter]

Phoyx
Wakes from his sleep wanderings at the smell.
Pork? Nay the drow do not have pork farms. looks around notices the blind orc is missing. One of our fellows became breakfast, where is my portion?
knowingly eating a person Doesn't taste like any orc i have ever eaten before, more tender and milder tasting. I must get this recipe.

Cheers on the fight between his cell mates.

[~Corvus~]

With the cheering of Phoyx and a few guards, the fight turns a bit more brutal than Uonyil might have desired. As she forces herself into the melee, she takes a glancing hit until Eldeth--the dwarf--and Shuur, the Kuo-toa, interpose themselves for a few moments.


Damage to Uonyil, Eldeth and Shuur
U[roll0]->divide by 2, round up
E[roll1]
S[roll2]

Ana's (2nd) roll at advantage
Diplomacy
> @Anachronity#5667
> **Result**: 1d20 (17) + 2
> **Total:** 19
@Avrae#6944

As she gets a little bit of space to talk, her words roll over them.

"What has he taken from you, and what have they taken?"
The Quaggoth seems incensed, even though her words, excellently chosen, seem to have quelled enough of the fight in Ront. Topsy and Turvey join in with their own voices, and they appeal further to the raging beast. "Remember yourself, Derendil! You are an elven Prince! Find the space in your mind where you remember your peace! With further encouragement from Uonyil and the two gnome brothers, he calms down.

Not long after the fight has ended, you are all lined up outside the cell. There is no attempt to fix or remedy Uonyil's bleeding face or address her wounds. Instead, the crossbowmen simply wait for everyone to comply with the lineup. Already waiting for you is Antler, who has been escorted by a few other guards from...elsewhere in the facility... to the lineup here. You notice that his eyes are different. His eye-sockets have been hammered and re-shaped, and he has new eyes, shaped like upside-down triangles. However, you're able to see that he can see in the interminable dark.

Two drow, each with the perfectly-fit leather armor and weapons of warriors, face you with scowls. One of them has a fore-arm and face that seem disfigured as if partially-melted, and if anything his scowl is a little less intense than the other's.
The first warrior identifies himself as Shoor. He has immaculate grooming and skin, and he addresses you all, I hope you all enjoyed your mushroom and long pork soups this morning. He pauses with an expectant and malevolent smile, waiting for many of you to look upset. Turns out your orc buddy...wasn't an orc at all! He was a changeling! It's too bad none of you had the salted pork we all had last night, seized from a human trader. Still, I think we can all agree that changeling is still as tender and juicy as the better animal, but more mysterious. Pigs are less shifty! Ahaha! Shoor gives himself a moment of levity and he lovingly strokes his longsword, which has a rather intricate spider design along its pommel and a scabbard looks made of a fine ironwood.

He shifts his weight and his tone becomes more serious. Jorlan and I agree--Jorlan was looking away from Shoor to hide a grimace at the latter's terrible joke--that today is cleaning day. For some of you. Several of the prisoners hold back their groans and he points almost at random. You and you and you, he points to Buppido, Stump and Phroyx, will come with me. We have boxes and crates of mushrooms to unload, sort and re-pack, and if you're lucky we'll be done in ten hours.
You four, he points to Derendil, Sarith then Uonyil and Jimjar, have cleaning duties. That includes emptying all the facility's latrines, scrubbing the lab floors and slabs, scraping the waterway planks of slimes, and of course the quaggoth den, which is particularly dirty tonight since apparently quaggoth don't digest cooked long pork very well. Good luck with that, he nods to Sarith and Derendil, both of whom show chagrin for their task. The rest of you have mining duty. I expect the nine of you to work hard.

[WarHunter]

Phoyx

I knew that was no orc, I guess i don't need to ask you for the recipe anymore. Are these crates of live fungus or have they been picked?

[Anachronity]

Uonyil finds herself a bit too furious and more than a little put off by the source of the meat to give much effort to groaning and complaining about the day's duties. If she'd cared to think deeply about a choice between bad and worse, she probably would have preferred this to mining. But her thoughts are centered instead upon keeping her gaze low and resolving to ferret away any cloth or sundry items she could that might help with recent injuries.

[~Corvus~]

The guards take Phoyx's question to be an excellent segue into getting others to their duties. The assignments, instead of lasting for a single shift, last much longer. The only measure you have of time comes from Stump's quiet assertions of a "cycle" as he calls it; Not even Jonyil, the captive drow, seems keen on helping you figure out time's passage, preferring instead his quiet time alone. Stump measures seventeen days.

Phoyx finds a surprisingly good tutor in Stump who, although it feels sad to be kept in captivity, knows very much about the mushrooms. Buppido raised fungi in his home, too, so between the two of them, Phoyx learns a good deal. Many are freshly-harvested, but each has their own purpose: Few make good foods, but tremella and hericium make good cooking oil. On the other hand, mature rocktuft makes a superior ink for writing, and takes very little work to press properly. Winter slime, auricularia and saw-cap make good material for recycling. Stump sorts blacktube, bluespine, and hepcaster into their own piles, declaring that they must be left to be wet and grow mold, then will be mulch or, in the case of podswell and pink enok, make alcohol (podswell for drinking, pink enok for sterlilization). When the guards give them an unsupervised minute for shift change, Buppido refines his understanding that the any enok morel not pink (yellow, lime, orange) makes a potent nerve toxin; the fields close to the prison are well-cultivated but sometimes a stray or toxic fungus will find root. If you find one, bring them to me, Stump instructs.

In this time Phoyx also learns to tend the small garden space close to the mine. He learns, too, about firemoss, a brittle substance that will crackle and produce sparks when rubbed, and also seems to hurt his fingers a little bit; it's useful not only for starting fires but also for waking a person in a daze or in shock. Craked-cap poria grow on stones; depending on the mineral they root into, the glow they emit gives off a different color. This, Stump claims, is how most Dwarves should prospect. How do they normally know? I don't know,, returns Stump. But they have more names for rocks than we myconids have for fungus.

With the little extra time Phoyx has, Buppido urges him to focus on one of a few tasks, of his choice: He can help Stump cultivate and distill a few doses of poisons, improvise some choking gas bombs, or instead distill a large batch of mushroom beer.

Antler isn't exactly suited for mining, but unlike the others he needs very little sleep, so his ability to work over time more than makes up for his lack of strength. Even better, he begins to gain a rudimentary understanding of the facility's stone structures. Furthermore, when the group is given breaks from mining, they work to make improvements in and upgrades for the holding facility. Not only are you all mining rocks and ore to transport, at least whenever the next transport arrives (even your Drow overlords seem increasingly upset about its lack of arrival), but also you're shown that you're going to build two other holding pens, both a comparable size to the one you have already. Fairly soon, Antler finds himself proficient with every manner and means of mason's tools.

Although Antler finds himself with a decent bit of spare time, Eldeth points out that his lack of need for much rest gives him time to do "off project" work. He must work slowly, since the work can still produce noise, but can do the work mostly undisturbed. He faces a choice: he can either make a hidden tunnel out of their cone-shaped cell--a high-risk--or he can produce crude stone daggers--a lower risk--and stash them in their small stash area. Maybe there's another project you think could be helpful, but regardless, we're counting on you to make use of your time. The dwarven woman tells him this without judgement, and kindly enough.

Uonyil's cleaning tasks are never finished, and most of the Drow and Quaggoth take effort to leave plenty of messes for her and her fellow prisoners to clean up. Jimjar is endlessly upbeat and gregarious, and very often tryies to engage the Drow in little bouts and bets, whether they're dice games, card games, or even on how whatever mess they're going to make might arrange itself on the ground. On one occassion four of their Quaggoth captors, drunk and bored, decide that the gnome might actually be right about having some fun. They propose a short dice game with him; he immediately agrees. They explain that the price of losing the game is to lose a finger. Despite his confidence he loses, so they drag him to the medical room, allowing for Uonyil to come along.

Two assistants are there, working on body of a corpse, and they harass the two of them for supplies. They crudely lop off the second finger of his left hand and then force Jimjar to eat his finger's flesh then swallow the bone, which gets the three quaggoth into howling fits of laughter at his extreme discomfort. Finally, they decide to whip Uonyil just for fun, justifying it that since she didn't play the dice game and her "partner" lost she, too, had to suffer.

The three quaggoth are big and naturally muscle-bound, so even a simple whip in their hands would be a deadly weapon. Yarv (who had as-of-yet talked his way out of being made a slave) is one of the two medical assistants ther and sees the quaggoth shove aside a partially-dissected corpse and equipment from a slab while three of the four haul her to the slab and begin to stretch her out. The last quaggoth fumbles at his belt, trying to extricate his whip, which seems to have gotten stuck in a loop in his enthusiasm to pull it out. Time is precious: what do the two of you do?

[Anachronity]

Between intermittently cursing aloud and struggling within the beastly creatures' vice grip, a desperate plan occurs to Uonyil. She tries to block out thoughts of ending up like the corpse so callously brushed from the table.

"You beat Jimjar at dice?!" she protests, trying to add a little emphasis to the 'you' as she very specifically looks to the one readying the whip. She has trouble telling their predatory features apart, but she's fairly certain the whip-bearer was not the one which Jimjar had lost to. It was a childish tactic, trying to stoke jealousy. It was like something out of a too-fanciful bardic tale. She understood Quaggoths to be quite dim, but she feels like even more of an idiot trying to play at acting while her life was on the line. At least they probably wouldn't realize she'd tried.
"I don't know how! B-but! He doesn't gamble for me! You've earned no privilege!"

She continues to struggle even if, as was likely the case, her words found no purchase with them. Her eyes do meet those of the medical assistants.

[Ramsus]

https://i.pinimg.com/564x/33/64/6c/33646cdd20a4bbe41f4ebda903034c51.jpg
Antler (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2247097)
Warforged Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 13/13
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: --
Concentration: --

Antler thanks Eldeth for the tutelage and takes her advise. Being someone whose perspective on time doesn't require rushing things, he elects to make the weapons first. He doesn't imagine even if they had a way to escape they could do it unseen. And even if they did, what then for their fates in the underdark unarmed?

So he sets to work, at first making a few (four) daggers. Then a pair of rough clubs. And saves another piece of stone to make something with later. He knows spellcasters usually require focus items, but he doesn't yet know if anyone who will be trying to escape with them requires such. If not, he can always just make another weapon out of it later.

[~Corvus~]

The assistants remain quiet, but Uonyil does see one of them quietly slip past the slab they'd been working on. She? He? finds their way to the medical equipment space, where, hanging on the wall, is a pair of light hammers, barely distinguishable from the weapon variety: one "edge" has a convex shape, useful for loosening rigid muscle: an unusual tool, perhaps, in a mortician's space, but useful in a lab.


"You beat Jimjar at dice?!"
"I don't know how! B-but! He doesn't gamble for me! You've earned no privilege!"

The three quaggoths holding her and the one who has now freed its whip pause at her bold statement. One of them mutters quietly, Just cause its weighted dice doesn't...uh...i still won. Another of the quaggoth holding Uonyil lets go of one leg of hers to punch the one who spoke in the arm. Hey!Telling our dice secrets is bad. Whats next, eh?
The first quaggoth to mutter, the one who definitely beat Jimjar, lets go of Uonyil to shove the other with both hands.Well what does you say then, huh? At least I has fun ideas!
He, too, lets go of Uonyil's other leg and says, Why don't we ask youse, pretty snake-lady? Maybe we have a game and if you loses, we have a few pokes, hm? He makes a crude thrusting gesture with his hips, and accompanies his motion with an unsubtle laugh.

The other two quaggoth take this suggestion with guffaws, and the one pinning her arms lets her go. Yeh! You think you could beats us at a dice game, missy? Especially when--he cuts off as another quaggoth smacks him on the arm.

Jimjar vomits on the ground and looks weakly at the other medical assistant. "S-sorry.. he apologizes weakly.

[Tjallen]

Addressing the Quoggoth with the whip with a screech Yarv looks downright murderous, a scalpel clutched tightly in his hands in visible anger: "Xomkon... did you just RUIN days of our work AND almost kill a slave because you cheated ANOTHER slave in dice? I swear to the gods that if you don't get the hells out of my sight in the next ten seconds then I won't heal you next time you get your face smashed in for GODSDAMN CHEATING AT CARDS! NOW GET THE HELL OUT OF MY LAB BEFORE I MAKE YOU REPLACE THE CORPSE WHOSE ORGANS WE SPENT DAYS PUTTING BACK IN! DAYS!"

[~Corvus~]

Xokmon and the other quaggoth start at Yarv's words. "Hey! That's not f--" he cuts off as another quaggoth buts in, "It's true, Xok, He stitched you three times las' month."
"No, no no..that was three...er...foive moths..er..months ago. But 'e 'as no right t'abuse like that. Hes a...er...ahh...'ssistant!"
"And look at all them organs on the floor...they isn't even good shapes no more. If we whips or kills tha new cleaning lady, maybe she wont be able to help Yarv pick 'em up an' put em back!"

The quaggoth who had made the crude gestures to Uonyil grinds his teeth as he returns a stare to Yarv, but the other assistant walks up. He quietly adds, "We must put these organs back quickly. Otherwise the Doctor, and in turn Ilvara, might learn of this this costly accident. Ilvara's punishments always need treatment afterwords...and you wouldn't want to lose our help...would you?"

Xokmon--the quaggoth with the whip--growls and snaps his jaws at the other assistant, but he backs off along with the other three. "Watch you'self, snake-lady. We'll get that pokin' one way or another. Mark my words. C'mon, boys...chow's waiting on us jus' bout now." The quaggoth leave, though Xokmon cracks one time it in your direction before he passes around the corner and to the left of the area.

Jimjar gives a hiccup of fright and this time falls to his hands and knees. He heaves again, producing much of the flesh he'd been forced to eat off his finger--now simply a mass of goo, tendon, and blood--and the three finger bones. He groans and gives a sad sob. He looks weakly at Uonyil and Yarv and says, "I b-bet you've never h-had to endure th-that bef-fore, e-eh?"

~~~

Antler's work remains mostly uninterrupted, and the others help him smuggle the items back into the holding cell from the mine. Eldeth approaches him, looking worried. It's nearing the end of the month. Have you talked with Phoyx yet? Do you know their progress on the potions?

[WarHunter]

Phoyx

Been making some mushroom moonshine...faerzresshine? Also huffing a bit of his main project the choking gas, saying he is working up a resistance but is clearing getting high off the lack of oxygen.

[Ramsus]

https://i.pinimg.com/564x/33/64/6c/33646cdd20a4bbe41f4ebda903034c51.jpg
Antler (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2247097)
Warforged Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 13/13
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: --
Concentration: --

"Which one is Phoyx? So far you're the only being besides our captors that has addressed me specifically the entire time we've been here. If there is some kind of actual plan, nobody has informed me as of yet." Antler says, clearly a bit annoyed about that point, though the annoyance is clearly not aimed at her.

[~Corvus~]

Eldeth nods to Antler. "I certainly understand your frustration. When I first traveled from Gauntletgrym to the lands north of Neverwinter Wood, I was sure many of the humans would know of and welcome an upstanding member of the Feldruth clan. Imagine my surprise when, not only had they never heard of my clan, they had no idea what Gauntletgrym was, and worse, they were frightened of me because they thought I was a savage! Pah!" Her brief scowl turns to a frown and gives way to a chuckle. "I can only imagine how strange many creatures might find you, Antler! Constructs are rare and few in this land; I don't think I've ever heard of a golem or construct that thinks for itself, let alone has magnificent antler horns on its head! you might have had a better welcome in the Dalelands up north, where the peoples expect all to adapt to the savage landscape...But let us discuss the future. Come, follow me to the back."

She leads you to the back of the cone-shaped enclosure, furthest from the guards' ears. Shuushar notices her movement and engages Ront--the Orc--so as not to let the conversation become a distraction. "Okay. I was talking to Turvey and...Sarith--I know he's a Drow, but he's been wrongfully accused of murder, and he will help us escape--and we're gathering a few things in the works. We're all grateful for your help smuggling in those knives. Your body turns out to be a great place to hide them to move 'em back here. Stump and Buppido think that Phroyx--the sort of human-animal hybrid with gliding fins--is a natural at making potions, and has done some good work so far, or at least they say. I know he's been making some meade, but hopefully he'll make something a little more immediately useful.

...We're thinking of having a brawl as a cover to get the guards' attention, recover their weapons, and try to escape by force. If we strike quickly and decisively, we should be able to make our way past the quaggoths' den and to the North watch post, and then Blingdenstone. But if the guards react quickly, we could jump into the lake; Shuur told us that the Darklake wasn't far off.

...what do you think?"

[Ramsus]

https://i.pinimg.com/564x/33/64/6c/33646cdd20a4bbe41f4ebda903034c51.jpg
Antler (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2247097)
Warforged Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 13/13
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: --
Concentration: --

"I see. It seems unfortunate that my circumstance is that our captors would pay attention to me and not our fellow prisoners. It would have been more desirable for it to be the other way around." Antler replies. Maybe he's making a joke?

"I do not know if this would effect your plans, but I do possess a means of picking locks." Antler says, and briefly displays his integrated tools before retracting them again.

[WarHunter]

Phoyx

Wonders which would be better for the cause faerzresshine drunken guards, choking gas, or faerzresshine if he can get the proof high enough so it will catch fire.

[Anachronity]

Uonyil removes herself from the table a bit shakily, less from fear than from adrenaline. The fear would come later. Not from any lewd threat, or from any one particular abuse, but from the realization that this type of misery would likely be her new existence until the day of her death. It was an unsettling thought even now, and she feels a need to busy herself rather than ponder how long it may be before her resolve crumbles into despair. "I can't say I have." she responds idly to the gnome.

She considers thanking the attendants, but isn't entirely sure whether they would care, or whether they simply hadn't wanted her own body to add to the mess. She mutters it anyways, a quiet "Thank you." with an accompanying nod.
When she takes account of what new messes have been made, she does not delay in finding a way to distract herself from her own thoughts. She rescues a few organs from being befouled by slowly-spreading pools of gnomish vomit, taking care not to stress or twist the delicate flesh as she places them on the table.

"I can help to piece it back together, should you need it. I have the training." she offers, neither making eye contact nor presuming to aid them further unless asked. Instead she begins seeing to the vomit on the floor.

[Tjallen]

Waving off the offer of help, Yarv steps over to Jimjar and reaches out a single hand a single, softly glowing, spark jumps to him and quickly travels to the missing finger, closing the cut and restoring some vigor.
"You should probably take a few minutes to rest, but if you got some training we won't turn down your assistance. Cleaning up is the worst part after all. Now, I apologize for my previous crassness, but it has been a while since we had a chance to sleep. I am Medical Assistent Yarv and this is my colleague Narlow. Who might you be?"

[~Corvus~]

Eldeth nods gravely to Antler, telling him that this changes quite a deal, and that she'd talk with the others when they get back with their jobs. The opportunity is cut short, however, when a tremor reverberates throughout the prison. Soon after, several guards show up to inform you that everyone is being sent to the south entrance. Phoyx and nearly all of you are sent there, minus Uonyil and Jimjar, whom are reported--to Jorlan, the maimed drow--to be working under The Doctor's orders. Ilvara decides to commune with her Goddess before returning in a worse mood, and has both Topsy and Turvey whipped to "improve morale" and motivate everyone to work harder. The whipping stops nearly short of their deaths. "Don't spend a potion on him," Ilvara spits, and instead summons The Doctor who, though chagrined at having much-needed sleep interrupted, is mostly understanding, and the two gnomes are sent back to the holding cell...alive.

Shoor and three of the elite soldiers are sent to the North entrance, while Jorlan is tasked with overseeing the rubble-moving whenever Ilvara leaves. Clearing the rubble and making a new entrance from the fallen debris takes five hours even with the power of 10 of the facility's 12 quaggoth, all 12 non-elite soldiers, and much of the two priestess' and Ilvara's magics. Still, the entrance is restored after a fashion, and just as all of you leave under a small escort of two quaggoth and one soldier, the facility comes under attack. Still, the guards lock you back up before rushing away to help.

~~

The prodedure takes five hours, but thankfully the quaggoths did not come back after an earth-tremor caused the south exit to cave in. Most of the other slaves, even the ones sorting mushrooms, were called to help along with the soldiers, but not the 4 of you. Later on, while the collapse had been stabilized and the slaves sent back to their cells, the facility endured a small attack from some githyanki. There were no survivors, but some of the githyanki, freshly dead and preserved with spells, were sent in for analysis.

Despite the brief interruption, you remain alone as you both re-distribute the body's organs and redo the glyphic wards, some of which only Narlow has the experience to etch, and Jimjar has thoroughly scrubbed the floor. The doctor's notes are thorough and organized, so you as you finish the job you find yourselves with a short rest. The Doctor nearly trips over Jimjar who, exhausted from his exertions, didn't even make it to a bench. After a string of curses in Dwarven, he finally rights himself and awkwardly hands Yarv a hand crossbow and two clips of poisoned arrows. His accent is thick with the old "You are to eskvort da prisoners Uonyil and Jimjar to ze holdink cell, vere dey vill sleep. Joo are on guard tonight, Yarv. Don't forget...Ve haff ze projekt zis evenink, so stay alive." His hand sweeps to the (newly re-stuffed) corpse, after which he continues, "I'm sure all our vork vill be rewarted, but sadly ve are short-staffed and...well, joo understant. I vill give a full report when joo get back." The Doctor ushers you away, and another guard gives manacles to--again--shackle both Uonyil and Jimjar's feet and hands, and then Yarv and the guard walk you back to the cell.

Seven hours pass without incident. Jorlan arrives at the holding cell with a large floating disk and steaming mushroom soup, this time with only the smell of tangy mushrooms and a light curry. The other drow guard scowls at him, and is about to spit when Jorlan tells him, "Early Shift change. I'll relieve you, soldier. Report to the Barracks." He gives a nod to Yarv and mutters, "You might want to step away as I deliver food. About five paces back. Watch them closely."

With Yarv out of immediate earshot, Jorlan passes the food out to the nearest in the cell. He quietly turns the lock to the cell door, holds his hands over it and jiggles the door, giving it a very believable rattle of a well-locked door. Jorlan then pulls out a wand which he points at his head and extracts a silver strand from it. The strand wraps around the wand, which he then points to Antler's cup, and he says, "Oh, alcohol in your water cup? Bottoms up!"

He waves Yarv back to the cell. "Look assistant," he says, "I expect you to guard these slaves with your life. If they manage to escape, it would mean dire consequences for Ilvara...and for Shoor." He then nods to Yarv and walks away, back towards the southern watch post.

The silver strand inside Antler's cup shows Jorlan's memory of him quietly unlocking (not locking) the door just moments ago, pointing his wand ad his head, and the strand leaving his head. Thoughts echo as the memory plays: Ilvara's divinations told her earlier that the facility might be attacked...but the prediction was for demons, not gith. It would be a pity if that idiot guard left the pen unlocked, and it would be a pity if the guards in the guard tower were distracted, so you escaped over the cliffs to the water below."
The strand of memory will replay itself, and if the small bit of alcohol is drunk, Antler takes in the silver strand as a memory of his own.

Jorlan then walks away, leaving Yarv to guard the holding pen all by himself and his light crossbow*

All 20 Bolts have Drow Poison: DC 13 Con save or target Poisoned [takes Disadv on saves, attacks, abil checks] for 1 hour; if fails by 5 or more, target falls unconscious.


~~~

Fifteen minutes after Jorlan has left the cell, a distant buzzing turns to a loud hum. As it grows louder and louder, alarm bells ring from the watch posts. Six vrock--demons that look like winged, armored velociraptors--pursue five slightly wounded Chasme demons--which look like bear-sized wasps with lance-sized probiscus instead of jaws. Their buzzing battle elicits arrows and the loud shouts of the quaggoth, all of whom rush past your cell to the central bridge, for which the 11 demons' trajectories seem destined.

What have you been doing in the last fifteen minutes since Jorlan has walked away? What do you do now?

[Tjallen]

With a scowl, Yarv looks into the cell with the crossbow resting lightly on his shoulder and asks aloud to anyone in the cell:
"Is it true they fed you another prisoner or was that just a rumor?"
The elf is dressed in a mostly unruffled, almost clean of blood-splatters, previously white lab coat with large pockets on the front. At his side is at least one sheath for a sword of some description. He seems almost relaxed at the whole situation.

[~Corvus~]

The quaggoth who calls himself Prince Derendil steps forward. Interestingly enough, he speaks not with a quaggoth's normal speech but with the refined accent of a high elf. They did indeed. Changeling, they said. Ront was still upset , though, you understand. He inclines his head towards the orc and rolls his eyes. At this point, I was glad we got any meat at all.

Buppido, the derro--who looks like a halfling-sized dwarf--steps forward and buts in with a terse observation of Yarv. "Yarv, right? You notice how Jorlan over there didn't even mention that he would suffer? Or you for that matter? He just said Ilvara and Shoor?

The "prince" chuckles as he sluprs down the slightly-larger-than-others' bowl of mushroom soup. "C'mon, Bup. You know he's been sulking ever since Shoor became Ilvara's favorite. He can only think of their downfall.

Sarith--the Drow who has barely spoken a word all week--quietly speaks up over his as of yet untouched soup. That's all drow are meant to think about. Everyone else's downfall.

Jimjar, the gnome, looks as if he wants to speak, but then, feeling his recently-healed finger stump, simply slurps his soup and tries to look content.

[WarHunter]

Phoyx

I'm sorry we didn't save any for you to try, it was great- the best thing about this place so far.

[Anachronity]

Uonyil is left perplexed at the meaning of the exchange, and at the use of the wand. But she is not so tired that it strikes her as anything other than peculiar. She eyes Antler's cup, uncertain if the automaton even needed such things as water.

She answers Yarv's question with one of her own.
"Why do you ask? I'm sure this place will not leave you wanting, if disgust or outrage are what you seek.
... Did you know them?"

[Tjallen]

Yarv shakes his head:
"I had rather hoped that despite their... shortcomings, their cruelty was not pointless. With this, however, it has become blindingly clear that the whole society is a cancer instead of simply an infection. So, if you could refrain from cannibalism, I will gladly try to get you the hells out of here. All I ask is that I be allowed to join you for the daring escape."

[Ramsus]

https://i.pinimg.com/564x/33/64/6c/33646cdd20a4bbe41f4ebda903034c51.jpg
Antler (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2247097)
Warforged Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 13/13
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: --
Concentration: --

"I promise not to eat anyone." Antler replies flatly. Perhaps an attempt at humor?

[WarHunter]

Phoyx

As a Simic hybrid it is very difficult for we to be Cannibals. As a people we are all usually different from each othe, so its not Cannibalism.

[~Corvus~]

Even the perpetually downcast Sarith looks up at Yarv's announcement. Eldeth nods and quietly speaks the warforged "I don't want to move you from this...conversation, Antler, but it's your time. Let's see those lockpicking tools do their work!" Eldeth and Shuur help Antler undo his own restraints, but once they're removed, he gets to work. Nearly all of the restraints have the same pattern, so as Antler uses his tools to probe the locks, he soon gains speed and certainty with the procedure. Jimjar gives the group three minutes to spare.


Buppido eagerly runs to the hidden crevice in the prison wall. He palms one of the dagger as he passes out the weapons: he gives Phoyx and Ront the two iron pipes, and he hands Antler, Uonyil and jimjar knives. Prince Derendil, the quaggoth, complains that he doesn't have a weapon until its pointed out to him that his natural strength and claws should be enough. Eldeth brandishes a piece of rope, now fashioned with a strip of leather, made into a sling. She then reveals twelve relatively smooth but solid stones.

~~~

What starts as distant buzzing turns to a loud hum. As it grows louder and louder, alarm bells ring from the watch posts. Six vrock--demons that look like winged, chitin-bound velociraptors--pursue five slightly wounded Chasme demons, bear-sized wasps with lance-like beak. The two groups chase and strafe each other, weaving an ovaloid circle of humming menace. Near the long bridge that spans between the watchpost closest you and the entracnce to your cell, the chasme turn aprubtly and spear a vrock with their lance-bound heads. THe vrock takes a few swipes with its scythe-like claws, but the chasme let the injured vrock fall past the bridge onto the vast webbing that spans the region below you. Soon, the chittering of spiders accompanies the shriek of the vrock and the drone of the aerial battle.

The demonic procession travels into the great stalagtite that houses the temple, and soon all the quaggoth from the den rush past your cells, brandishing whip or curved swords, to defend the place from attack.

From the stalagtite closest you, the drow shout to each other; bolts fly out towards the deadly aerial dance.

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/601773162170023948/741376440188272731/01-04.jpg

Topsy and Turvey, each eager enough to leave even without weapons, shove open the door to the cell. From the space above you, two giant spiders descend quietly behind them as they leave. Almost without effort, they lean forward and bite each of their heads off, leaving their bodies. They crowd the space right outside the cells, but both seem quite willing to leave Yarv alone as they wait for others to leave. Ront and Prince Derendil look at each other, nod, and exit first. The spiders lean forward, eager for blood, and they each bite down, hard.

Your quaggoth cell mate endures the bite with a grunt, and he reaches out to put his weight on one of the spiders. He pushes, enduring another bite, but topples it on its back. Ront groans as he's bitten; he, too tries to overturn the other spider, but it simply steps back and gives him space to fall to the ground. Eldeth, unwilling to waste time, encourages you, Don't just stand there, fight! She steps out and whirls a stone in her makeshift sling. It looks impressive, but misses the spider engaged with Ront completely. Jimjar steps out, and with his knife, plunges it into the abdomen of the spider Derendil has pinned down.

[Tjallen]

'This is going to be a gods forsaken mess, not even time for a proper sendoff'' Yarv thinks to himself as he hefts his crossbow and sends a bolt into the still standing spiders back.

[roll]1d20+5 (21 from rollbot) to hit for [roll0] + drow poison.

[Ramsus]

https://i.pinimg.com/564x/33/64/6c/33646cdd20a4bbe41f4ebda903034c51.jpg
Antler (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2247097)
Warforged Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 13/13
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: --
Concentration: --

Antler immediately rushes forwards to stab at the knocked over spider.


Attack: [roll0]
advantage: [roll1]
damage: [roll2]
if crit: [roll3]

Off hand: [roll4]
advantage: [roll5]
damage: [roll6]
if crit: [roll7]

[~Corvus~]

The bolt makes a satisfying squelch sound as it rips into the spiders's large abdomen. Antler, with his two stone daggers, attacks the spider, separating several of its legs from its now-struggling body. Sarith, without any weapon to help, looks around at the struggling group and runs straight past them for the watch-post. He tiptoes inside the entrance, which faces away from the cell and towards the bridge that leads to the waterfall.

Past the rushing waters, the heated fight between the demons has become a three-way brawl. For the moment, the chasme and the vrocks seem content to attack the defenders of Velkynvelve. A cloud of locusts envelops part of the demonic host, and two more monstrous spiders join the large group of drow and quaggoth now defending the outpost.

[WarHunter]

Phoyx

Seizing the pipe, charges at the nearest spider, swinging at its legs.

[~Corvus~]

If the nearest spider to the cell hadn't been the one pinned by Prince Derendil, Phyox might have missed.
[roll0]


He brings the pipe around to the spider's head, and with the distractions both Antler and Yarv have given it, he brings the pipe down across the giant spider's head, slaying it with his mighty blow. The blow smears the ground with ichor as the twitches, letting more ichor and webbing out from its pierced abdomen.

The second Giant spider still contends with Ront, who tries to avoid its mandibles. It gets another bite on him, and the half-orc looks like he's weakening already.

[Anachronity]

Uonyil is unhappy that she doesn't quite know why they're being freed, but isn't about to let this witless vermin get in her way. She lunges with the stone dagger which Antler had afforded her.

[~Corvus~]

With the momentary distraction Ront gives her, Uonyil plunges her dagger into the second giant spider, cleanly cutting away one of its giant hairy legs. Buppido follows her and ducks under the spider's abdomen, tearing his stone dagger along its underbelly as he slides across its large space.

Prince Derendil lunges at the second spider, this time unable to pin it down. He instead swipes at it with his clawed hands, and snaps another of its legs.


Sarith peeks out of the watchtower; He has donned leather armor and a shortbow. He catches the eye of Eldeth, Jimjar, and Stump; he motions them forward to him. The dwarf appraises the melee and shakes her head, and she, the gnome and the myconid all run past the spiders and into the stalactite-guard-tower. Shuur, finally gathering his wits about him, decides to help Ront. He duck into the spider's reach, and though it bites down at him, the kuo-toa sidesteps its attack and grabs the half-orc, deftly pulling Ront away. The half-orc bleeds slowly from the two sets of spider-bites and foams at the mouth. He mutters weakly about how much he dislikes spiders. C'mon, Ront, you can make it. Tell me more about how you don't like spiders, encourages Shuur.

H-hurts, mumbles Ront. Can't see 'em on your legs at night, bite you when...hunting...got sick once...feels like that again...

Relax buddy. You're going to pull through.

[Ramsus]

https://i.pinimg.com/564x/33/64/6c/33646cdd20a4bbe41f4ebda903034c51.jpg
Antler (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2247097)
Warforged Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 13/13
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: --
Concentration: --

With one spider down, Antler goes to stab at the other one. Seeing the spiders long legs and fangs, he wishes he had longer blades.


Attack: [roll0]
damage: [roll1]
if crit: [roll2]

Off hand: [roll3]
damage: [roll4]
if crit: [roll5]

[~Corvus~]

This spider, unpinned, is still capable enough to move about. Antler's first attack is mistimed with its movement, and the second attack deflects from its chitinous form as he gets a bit closer.

[Tjallen]

Reloading and firing the heavy crossbow in his hands, Yarv starts moving towards the downed half-orc, keeping his focus on the spider.

[roll0] for [roll1] (WRONG DICE FRICK) + poison

[WarHunter]

Phoyx

Pulling his pipe out of the ruined chitin celphalothorax and runs towards the other spider. Holding the pipe back over his shoulder until he is next to it than swings it down on his victim.

[~Corvus~]

The bolt from Yarv's crossbow slams into the spider's midsection, and it screeches as the poisons quickly cause it to lose consciousness and fall to the ground.

Spider 1: Dead

Spider 2: Unconscious, prone

[Anachronity]

Uonyil looks down at the webbing below. She looks to Phoyx then points towards the near end of the carved stone walkway.
"The web isn't so far from the wall there. If we have some rope then either you or I can jump clear of it and make it down, and the others can follow.

She moves a bit further from the holding area as she talks and focuses on her art, testing her abilities now that she was further from that nullifying stone.

Focus on Ice Mastery, mostly just to see if it works. If it does, use Mind Thrust on the nearest spider (if they're not all dead?)
if it doesn't, stab the nearest spider.

[WarHunter]

Phoyx

Tilting his head, Do you have nothing that you wish to get back before we sail out of here?

[~Corvus~]

The sounds of struggle and weapons have come the guard tower just ten feet from you as you've tussled with the spider. Upon Phoyx's question, Eldeth and Buppido emerge from the tower, all clutching metal weapons; they each have the smear of blood on them. Come quickly, folks! Plenty of weapons. Jimjar's been shot though.

Inside the bottom of the outpost, you find a small armory of items:

2 chain shirts
3 suits of studded leather armor
2 shields
1 hand crossbow
14 cases of hand crossbow bolts, each case containing 20 bolts
2 shortswords and 2 daggers
3 bags of caltrops (20 caltrops per bag)
1x 100-foot-long coils of silk rope
1 building hammers (not usable as weapons)
1 bags of iron spikes (10 spikes per bag)

[Ramsus]

https://i.pinimg.com/564x/33/64/6c/33646cdd20a4bbe41f4ebda903034c51.jpg
Antler (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2247097)
Warforged Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 13/13
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: --
Concentration: --

With both spiders down, Antler joins the others at the guard post. He then takes a good quantity of equipment. Taking every single thing nobody else takes by the end just to deprive the drow of it.


Taking: 1 studded leather armor for later, 1 shield, 1 hand crossbow, 2 shortswords, 1 building hammer, 1 rope, 1 bag of spike and....
all the caltrops or bolts nobody else takes. In fact I'll just take everything nobody else takes, why leave it for the drow?

[WarHunter]

Phoyx

Causally strolls to the guard tower and upon seeing the loot releases his pipe as one would do litter. He selects a short sword, shield, crossbow & bolt case, and a bag of caltrops. Mock fights with the sword and shield like a child at play.

[Tjallen]

Already having donned all his gear Yarv, walks over to the orc and looks over his wounds.

As the others come out he calls out to them: "Any cloth, rope, or medical equipment I would much appreciate if you brought along for me, I will be right along, just have to take a look at this wound, see if I can help in a timely fashion, yes?"

[Anachronity]

"We need to move quickly" Uonyil mutters, as much a comment to herself as an order. She grabs a hand crossbow, one case of bolts, a shortsword, and two lengths of rope. She makes a quick glance along the walkway in both directions to try to discern any dangers or adversaries.

[~Corvus~]

Uonyil looks to both sides of herself. On one side, a curved ledge spans the space between their holding cell and the quaggoth den. There are no quaggoth she sees with her cursory glance.

To the other side, she sees a 20-foot bridge, a 20-foot-long ledge, and past that, the wide area of guard posts and barracks where many drow, elite warriors, quaggoth, and demons engage in a nasty melee. Several drow and quaggoth have died, whereas one vrock and two chasme have fallen. Several others fly about, apparently chased by swarms of insects.

Below them and slightly North--towards the direction of the waterfall--a vrock, even though it's entangled by several spiders' webs, has slain two Giant spiders and it fends off four more.

Closest to you all, one giant spider remains very much dead, and another seems to twitch ever-so-slightly as it sleeps from the powerful drow poison laced into a bolt that sticks into its midsection.

[~Corvus~]

Several of the others observe that you've taken new weapons. They take only a small amount of items, willing to trust that they can get by with the PCs willing to help the rest of them survive.

[WarHunter]

Phoyx

This will do for now, alright who is ready to jump with me. stretching his manta wings for the task.

[Tjallen]

Examining the wound and managing to produce the correct antidote, Yarv warns the orc to drink plenty of water before getting up and collecting the ropes and any spare cloth lying around. Walking over to the still unconscious spider, he puts a bolt through its skull to make sure it does not get up again.

Medicine check was 14 and a success!

Dunno how the damage thing works but the crossbow deals [roll0] damage I guess

[~Corvus~]

Uonyil looks down at the webbing below. She looks to Phoyx then points towards the near end of the carved stone walkway.
"The web isn't so far from the wall there. If we have some rope then either you or I can jump clear of it and make it down, and the others can follow.

She moves a bit further from the holding area as she talks and focuses on her art, testing her abilities now that she was further from that nullifying stone.

Focus on Ice Mastery, mostly just to see if it works. If it does, use Mind Thrust on the nearest spider (if they're not all dead?)
if it doesn't, stab the nearest spider.

Uonyil is able to manifest her Ice Mastery once outside the cell; she feels a relief that slowly works its way to her skin, and she no longer feels any coolness of being underground. Rather, the pulse of energy from the earth and the connection to her Source gives her a warmth that pervades her presence.

The spider, asleep, takes the full effect of the Mind Thrust; it twitches in its sleep, and seems ready to wake up. However, another bolt from Yarv ensures that it immediately falls back asleep. The spider's legs curl further inwards, and the creature no longer even pulses with energy. It appears dead.


2x Giant Spiders - Dead


~

Yarv handily heals Ront of his poison. Eldeth, upon hearing the recommendation for water, walks over to him and hands him a waterskin which she claims was taken from the guard in the watchpost. She tells everyone that she's also taken all eight of the other waterskins in the guard post, and makes certain everyone has one. They are all half-full, and have a mineral taste to them; it only tastes faintly of sulfur, and she assures everyone that this is expected, and that it's not poisoned.

Prince Derendil nods to everyone. "If we're all ready to go...perhaps we all make a rope and some of us climb down. I don't want Phoyx's wings to be overburdened with weight. He notes that himself, Ront, Jimjar, Buppido, Shuur, and Sarith can all descend on ropes, and the rest could go down with Phoyx. He takes the last coil of 100-foot rope and, without ceremony, ties it to the lowest bar of the prison cell door, and drops it down over the side. It dangles only 5 feet from the water pool below. He begins to descend, and soon both Ront, Jimjar, and Sarith have climbed onto the rope.

Eldeth and Stump wait with the rest of the 4 of you to gain grip on Phoyx and begin the descent with his excellent Vedalken-grown wings.

[Ramsus]

https://i.pinimg.com/564x/33/64/6c/33646cdd20a4bbe41f4ebda903034c51.jpg
Antler (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2247097)
Warforged Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 13/13
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: --
Concentration: --

"We could use this opportunity while the drow are distracted to check that other stalactite for our belongings. I see an entrance down there." Antler suggests and points to the lower entrance to the next stalactite over. "We could tie a rope up here and swing down. Phoyx could go last and untie the rope on this end so we can take it with us."

[~Corvus~]

The eloquent quaggoth nods at the suggestion as he descends. " sounds good to me. We'll be careful.
Prince Derendil, Ront, Jimjar, Buppido, Shuur, and Sarith all descend the rope and drag it over--as they step on the spiderweb, it's sticky but not so bad they can't move; they just move slowly. In a minute Shuur ties the rope to a thick strand of web, and they remain unmolested by other Giant Spiders.

They motion to the rest of you; Eldeth, and stump both take a piece of studded leather armor and use the armor to glide down the slanted rope.

Just beyond where the rest of the group has gathered--below the many-tiered stalactite where a battle rages above--a Vrock has managed to slay four giant spiders, and though it has several nasty-looking bites on its body, it still looks ready to fight. It takes one step towards your group gathered on the spiderwebs, and screeches a challenge.

Sarith speaks calmly to the group, and everyone stays put. It's too far away to hear exactly what he says, but no one moves and no one seems to engage or threaten the Vrock further. It soon takes off in flight, and joins the conflict above.

[Ramsus]

https://i.pinimg.com/564x/33/64/6c/33646cdd20a4bbe41f4ebda903034c51.jpg
Antler (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2247097)
Warforged Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 13/13
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: --
Concentration: --

Antler descends the rope after the Vrock leaves (as he waited to be second to last as he's sure he's the heaviest and if the rope was going to snap under the weight it was best that happen after everyone else got down). Once down there, he enters the stalactite building first since it was his idea. Assuming nobody else makes an effort to go in before he can.

[Anachronity]

Now that they'd been afforded a moment of calm, Uonyil examines the group's assorted injuries. Particularly any that Yarv had not already seen to.

[~Corvus~]

Ront has taken two spider bites, and although he no longer suffers the ill effects of its poison, he still doesn't look terribly steady. Still, he is stable, so that's something.

Jimjar has taken a bolt in his left shoulder, and although it's not bleeding, it's rather uncomfortable for him. Since Uonyil is willing to administer aid, he asks that he help her remove the bolt and at least poultice the wound, if not give some magical healing.

[WarHunter]

Phoyx

Once everyone is down the rope, Phoyx unties it and glides down to where everyone else is looking like a kite lacking a head wind and no one running with the string.

[~Corvus~]

Antler enters a small room. A small but comfortable cushion lays over several layers of mats; There's a short coffee table and two cushions for kneeling at it. Tucked in another corner is a glass hookah, a pipe, a small lamp-shaped burner, a small stack of black chalk-like cubes, and a jar from which the pleasant scents of lavendar and lemon waft. Pushed against the wall, and next to a stair, is a 5-foot and sturdy chest made of what looks like a hardened, tough fungus stem. The zurkhwood chest is as hard and tough as walnut, and it has several knobs and holes in its lining.

~~

Outside, a blast from above you rings out: several blasts of fire detonate, and a chasme demon, with recently-crisped and destroyed wings, lands awkwardly near you. Its abdomen, seared on one side, is still intact, but it has several cracks here and there.. As it stands, its head begins to vibrate and it emits a loud drone that assaults your ears as it rounds on all of you. Buppido, Stump, and Jimjar all fall over, and go unconscious.

A CHASME stands from prone then approaches you cautiously. It's now 10 feet away. Make a DC 12 Constitution save against the Drone else fall unconscious.

[Anachronity]

Uonyil clings to consciousness amidst the horrid buzz, desperately launching a mental assault on the creature if only to spare her own skull the agony.

Mind thrust: DC 13 Int save or take 5 Psychic damage

[WarHunter]

Phoyx

Makes a loud annoying noise in response and charges with his sword and shield at the ready.

[~Corvus~]

Eldeth the dwarf fires another bullet from her sling; for the third time, she's a terribly ineffective shot and the stone goes wide. Sarith charges past her with a short sword and strikes down with the blade into it's abdomen. The demons body, magically resistant to standard weapons, only cracks slightly despite his powerful blow.

The demon rears with its terrible pointed beak and thrusts it through Sarith's studded leather and his torso. Blood spatters from his body to spray over all of you; he coughs a few times and instead of giving up, he grips his weapon, still embedded, all the more tightly.

Ront and Prince Derendil move in together, and with a nod, they both try to tackle the demon. It spears Prince Derendil, but he remains upright, and as it does so he seems to become infuriated. The two of them wrestle the beast to the ground; for the moment it is prone!
Chasme is injured & PRONE but dangerous.
Eldeth is uninjured,.as is Ront
Derendil has been hurt.
Sarith is mortally wounded (death saves to come)

Buppido, Stump, and Jimjar are unconscious.

[Ramsus]

https://i.pinimg.com/564x/33/64/6c/33646cdd20a4bbe41f4ebda903034c51.jpg
Antler (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2247097)
Warforged Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 13/13
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: --
Concentration: --

Seeing the others fighting, Antler comes back over to them and does his best to spear the demon while the opportunity is available.


Move over to the demon.

Attack: [roll0]
advantage: [roll1]
damage: [roll2]
if crit: [roll3]

Off-hand: [roll4]
advantage: [roll5]
damage: [roll6]
if crit: [roll7]

[Tjallen]

Blindsided by the sheer terrible chaos that must have gone into spawning the abomination, Yarv stands frozen at the sound of the drone.
As the bloodsplatters from Sarith's impalement hits him, Yarv starts moving mostly on autopilot. He absentmindedly removes some of the blood with a cloth removed from a pocket, well-worn and much used, as he takes the first step towards the impaled man, he goes cross-eyed and drops like a puppet with his strings cut.

[roll0] against DC 12

[WarHunter]

Phoyx
His last attack doing little to no damage he becomes furious(rage) and he attacks again, trying to drive the tip into a gap in his natural armor why he is tackled.

[~Corvus~]

Yarv doesn't even stabilize the Drow man before he, too collapses, but not from injury.
Antler, emerging from the stalactite's lower entrance, manages to take two swipes at the chasme; its abdomen begins to leak an orange ichor that fizzles and bubbles in the air.
Phoyx tries to slip his weapon through the vicious melee, but between the collapsing Sarith, Antler's attacks, and then Ront and Derendil, he doesn't find the angle to best attack the chasme. The demon bucks wildly in their grip and his swings, though they could have been a surety, go wildly awry. He instead scores several rips into the web below the demon, and part of the creature's abdomen slips below the webbing.

Eldeth fires the stone at the chasme's head; the solid shot lands in the demon's left eye, and it shrieks and buckles against the two that grip it. The demon attempts to strike at Phoyx, but what might have been a deadly attack passes half a foot over his left shoulder.

Sarith, on the verge of dying, looses his grip on the sword. He, too falls to the ground.

Buppido, Stump, Jimjar, Yarv: Unconscious
Sarith: Dying
Derendil, Ront: Grappling CHASME
Uonyil, Eldeth, Antler, Phoyx: uninjured

CHASME: Restrained

Uonyil has yet to act this round!



Shuushar, unwilling to approach the Chasme demon, instead yells to the Dwarf: Eldeth, I'm going to look for a better weapon for you! He then goes inside the stalactite building Antler had been in and disappears from your sight.

[Anachronity]

Seeing that her assault was having some sort of effect, Uonyil redoubles her efforts to shatter the thing's hellish psyche. She tries to keep her distance from its lunging probiscus as best she can in the confined area.

Mind thrust: DC 13 Int save or take 7 Psychic damage
move away from it as best as able.

[~Corvus~]

As Uonyil takes a step back, she not only finds a way to damage its psyche, but seems to find a weakness in its mind; her magics seem powerful enough to break its hold on its life.

The Chasme takes a Critical Failure on its Saving throw! I'm treating this as a critical hit~
@The GM :game_die:
Result: 1d10 (10)
Total: 10
Looks like 17 Psychic damage is enough to push this creature over the edge.

@Anachronity, Describe its demise!

[Anachronity]

Within social circles privileged enough to pour their wine from glass bottles, a little-known party trick is to flatten one's hand and quickly strike the lip of the bottle while it is still filled with liquid. If done correctly, the sudden pressure would blow out the other side of the bottle, leaving its contents to spill forth and surely stain whatever flooring lay beneath it.

The Chasme had let its guard down, and the effects of the psychic assault bear an unfortunate resemblance to the very same.

[~Corvus~]

As the chasme opens its mouth to perform a strike against Phoyx, bits of its brain and scattered flesh and bone fly out of its mouth instead. As its weakened form slumps over Prince Derendil and Ront shove it through the hole in the webbing opened up by Phoyx.

As the exhilaration of the fight washes over you, there's a feeling of greater might and capability in all of you.

Well, says Prince Derendil, as the blood in his eyes recede, I think we handled that fight well. We all deserve a drink for that.


If you have not already, please set your character sheet to XP advancement (instead of milestones).

Each of you gain 671 XP, which should be enough to bring you well into 2nd level!

[Anachronity]

"Vile creature..."
Uonyil practically spits at the thing's corpse, then moves to Sarith as quickly as she is able. She focuses on her wounds and wills them to mend in attempt to bring her downed comrade back to wakefulness.

[~Corvus~]

As Sarith coughs blood, certain he's breathing his last ragged breath, looks at Uonyil with a tear in his eye. The hole in his chest heals and he grabs at his blood-soaked vest and shirt and pulls on her hand to get her help to stand. He wipes away his tears, and looks about him and mutters, "I...thought I was a goner. His voice, usually drained of emotion, seems almost hopeful.

Eldeth and Ront look at each other, and after a brief stare at each other, say nothing. Their faces twitch, but neither scowls at the other. They both ask to look at Antler's looted armor, and the two of them pick out a shield and a chain shirt each, and oddly enough they help each other don the pieces. Shuushar, the noncombatant Kuo-toa, asks for a shield, too, and declares that although he won't fight or harm foes, he believes enough in the group that he can help protect them, too. I believe I was meant to end here with you for a purpose: to make sure you all reach safety. Antler, hand me one of those shields. I will help as best I can.

Each of these three--Eldeth, Ront and Shuushar--appear to be stronger and more confident now that they know they could even possibly survive.

Eldeth has gained 1 level of Fighter; Ront, 1 level of Barbarian; Shuushar, 1 level of Cleric. They'll contribute more meaningfully to your fights, and perhaps in the future they can offer rewards beyond the normal scope that others can provide.



Prince Derendil, the quaggoth with lofty elven speech, asks of Antler, Where next, lockspringer? Up the tower or down to the waters below?

[Ramsus]

https://i.pinimg.com/564x/33/64/6c/33646cdd20a4bbe41f4ebda903034c51.jpg
Antler (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2247097)
Warforged Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 22/22
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: --
Concentration: --

"Up." Antler replies and then begins handing out the shields and armor. Though he doesn't immediately move to leave, instead looking around the room they entered just before the fight that they didn't have time to search yet.

[Anachronity]

With a scowl, Uonyil reluctantly follows the lifelike construct. She offers advice to no one in particular, or rather the group as a whole.
We must not tarry here. Our goal, our only goal here is to gain supplies to weather the wilds. Take no risks, seek no revenge. We are better off far away from our captors."

[~Corvus~]

Prince Derendil nods to Eldeth. "Perhaps you should join them upstairs, and the rest of us wait here. Stump, join them also. Mindlink with me, and let me know if our heroes need help.

Stump and Eldeth nod; The myconid and the dwarf hurry into the entrance of the stalactite as Antler takes a look around. The chamber contains cushions laid out across floor mats, a small carved table with two chairs, and a sturdy chest made of a fibrous, resilient wood grown from a zurkhwood mushroom-tree. The chest has several slots on its outside and a key-hole in its center; it is currently locked.

On the table, a pewter pitcher contains a small amount of alcohol; a pair of matched plain pewter goblets have the telltale residue of recent use.

The chest lies against a wall to which stairs lead upwards. You can hear the sounds of battle; they're a little quieter here than they are outside.

[WarHunter]

Phoyx

I agree with the lady, we should leave, but we are safer here than out in the wilds of the underdark where not even the drow dare to tread. It is almost certain death to wonder out into the underdark though i rather die than remain enslaved.

[~Corvus~]

Antler's search reveals that the chest is locked...but the means of its locking is beyond his current understanding. If he moves the chest at all, he hears a great and metallic jumble as if a large number of items were stashed inside.

The pewter cups look plain; they're functional but not even worth their weight in gold. The pitcher's alcohol smells sweet and pleasant.

[Ramsus]

https://i.pinimg.com/564x/33/64/6c/33646cdd20a4bbe41f4ebda903034c51.jpg
Antler (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2247097)
Warforged Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 22/22
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: --
Concentration: --

Deciding to leave the chest for later (to take on their way out), Antler goes up to the next room.

[Anachronity]

Uonyil tends to any allies still incapacitated, trying to rouse them from the effects of the bug-creature's drone.

[WarHunter]

Phoyx

Goes to help wake people up, poking them in the eye, quietly yelling Wake or die here.

[Tjallen]

Waking up with a start, Yarv looks up at Uonyil, quickly gathering his wits:
"Ah, you have already repaid the favor, quite good. We are still escaping, yes?"
He stands up and checks his things, picking up the crossbow he dropped and putting the bolt back where it is supposed to be. He gestures to the dead chasme's corpse: "Ghastly creatures those things, don't know why anyone would bother bringing them here."

[~Corvus~]

Antler ascends the stairs into the next room. Opposite him, a rope ladder dangles at the opposite ends of this chamber. Although there is no way to see the fighting from this room, it's obviously closer, and comes from the same place the rope ladder leads to.
https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/601773162170023948/752968701518807080/Ilvaras_room.png

The walls are hung with black mesh resembling a spider’s web, extending from a central spot on the ceiling out to the walls, then draped down like curtains. Thick, woven mats cover the floor, while a low platform is covered with cushions and pillows to make a broad, divan-like bed. One side of the chamber contains a small table and two chairs, while the other holds a small shrine to Lolth, draped in white silk. A heavy chest of black-stained zurkhwood sits at the foot of the bed. It is deceptively square, and it gives off the faint pulse of magic from its otherwise standard form.

~~

Uonyil and Phoyx manage to rouse their companions made unconscious by the (now deceased) chasme's vibrations. Stump nods his head and forms a link with Eldeth before she joins Antler upstairs.

[Anachronity]

Uonyil waits anxiously at the bottom of the stairs, not following out of a hesitance to let the path to freedom leave her sight when she'd so recently had a taste of what enslavement by these vile elves would mean. The visceral smell of the insectoid's gray matter did little to ease her nerves.

[WarHunter]

Phoyx
Starts searching the demon corpse for treasure before it leaves this plane.

[~Corvus~]

The Chasme, with its dead and sagging body, remains here; maybe it's native to the Underdark. Its brains, spilled out over the broken web before it, erode the very web below it. As you search its body, you find a bolt of fine cloth, very much like silk, but certainly something more...exotic. The bolt is about 30 feet long, and wrapped around a simple plank of soft wood. The cloth clings to your skin, but doesn't to other bits of clothing. There's no time to search its body further, and as the webbing rips from the stress of the demon's weight, it plummets to the water below you, issuing a decent splash below you.

[~Corvus~]

Eldeth joins Antler in the room. She gives the room a cursory look and dismissively says, The mistress has a sense of taste, I'll give 'er that. Upon spotting the chest, her eyes go wide. See those studs Antler? They could contain traps. I would bet--this one time--against Buppido some of them contain poison traps. But if any chest has our old gear, it's gotta be this one, right?

Eldeth looks around the room for an object to help open the chest, and she spots one of the chairs in the room has a leg with a hairline fracture. She breaks the leg from the chair and pokes the chest several times. Several nasty-looking spines emerge from what don't even look like holes to hit the wooden leg. It runs faintly with some poisons.

Best I can do is help you in this endeavor. Think ya can open it?

If Antler uses equipment to open the lock of Ilvara's chest, he does so at Advantage!


Eldeth, watching Antler appraise the items in the room, gives her evaluation to him. If you wish to really screw her over, let's pour some of that oil in Shoor's room onto the mats. This wool is very flammable. They won't notice until a good fire is going. Oh, hang on.

she pauses, as if a voice were talking in her head. Stump is sending up Ront. He's gonna take the statue and throw it at something in the water below.

[Ramsus]

https://i.pinimg.com/564x/33/64/6c/33646cdd20a4bbe41f4ebda903034c51.jpg
Antler (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2247097)
Warforged Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 22/22
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: --
Concentration: --

Taking a thorough look around the room, Antler's main interest is the chest. He briefly considers try to have them make off with the shrine, but decides it would be too cumbersome and labor intense from the already exhausted group who are going to need to run carrying two chests anyway.

At Eldeth's words he nods, "Good ideas all I'm sure. I do not think we have time to open this chest and sort through its contents here and now. Let us just take this and the other one. Could you assist me? I'll handle the oil afterwards." While he is speaking he starts throwing the cushions and pillows down to those below and comments, "I have not seen much of comfort to sleep on in the Underdark."

[~Corvus~]

Eldeth nods as Antler starts throwing the cushions. As she passes down the marble shrine to Ront, she tells him, "Trade ya for the massage oil on the table, Ront. We're gonna light this place up. The orc for once gives a chuckle, and Eldeth returns in a few moments from the stairs down with the massage oil. She places it on the ground and helps Antler with the chest. They carefully move it--and the broken chair leg, mind you--to the outside, and Ront balances the marble shrine with Shoor's chest.

She looks up at the Vrock and Chasme. They're quite the nuisance, aren't they? It seems that several Drow soldiers have died to their attacks, and several more remain unconscious. A few quaggoth still struggle with the Vrock who, understandably wary of them, nevertheless manage to hold them at bay. A few vrock, wrestled to the ground, feel the stabs of several drow swords before they can sweep their scythe-like claws through the gathered soldiers. The raging melee has even spread into the shrine above where Antler just looted the chests of Ilvara and Shoor.

Don't mind me, Ront says, and chucks the marble shrine down to the water below. There's a hearty splash into the water below.

Everyone is welcome to make a Perception check -- at advantage -- on the water below you!

[WarHunter]

Phoyx

Seeing the demon splash down after it melted through the webbing. [roll0] he notices a second splash.

[~Corvus~]

Phoyx curiously observes the fallen Chasme. It is odd that it hasn't phased away to another plane. Any residual thoughts are taken up by Ront, the half-orc, and his quick dash to the webbing and subsequent toss of a marble shrine down into the water.

A shimmering black creature pulses and throbs amid the water. As it tries to envelop the Chasme corpse, so too does the marble shrine fall into its amorphous flesh. Where it impacts, the altar burns its form, and it retreats from the altar a little too slowly as bits of its boundary fracture and break away. The altar disappears into the water. The ooze, too, slips under the water but you can track its movement by proxy of the chasme's sudden movement away from your point of impact.

We'll have company, says Ront. I don't like that. Whoever's idea it was to drop the chasme below...

Stump speaks up, startling the orc. Uonyil who killed it spilled the brains that eat the web.

You can speak? the orc asks, to which he receives a shrug. What is that thing? It looks like some sort of black..sentient slime.


https://forums.giantitp.com/showthread.php?619081-Discord-of-the-Abyss-OOC

[Tjallen]

At not receiving an answer, Yarv makes a few throat clearing noises as he follows Uonyil, before trying again: "Ah, excuse me, how long was I out? Did we have a change of plans or is escape still the main goal?"

[Anachronity]

Less than a minute. We are looting supplies at the present moment, but I would very much like to get going. Hopefully Phoyx or I can carry us clear of the water where that ooze resides.

[WarHunter]

Phoyx

Obviously thought the water was a safe retreat option looks visibly panicked, he looks for a non aquatic escape route.
spot check[roll0]

[Tjallen]

"Ah, grand, and ooze? Sounds dangerous, any alternate routes? My vision seems to be a bit blurry still." The elf says while absentmindedly rubbing his eyes.

[~Corvus~]

Ront points to the chasme's corpse. "See how it moves against the flow of water from the waterfall and its exit to the north? That ooze pushes it. Let's have Phoyx here--" he slaps the Vedalken who looks in vein for the other exits from this prison--"glide some of us down just a little slower. Antler, were there sheets inside? Anything strong like silk that one or two of us could use?" He pointedly avoids asking Eldeth; the dwarven woman frowns and adjusts her belt.

She, like Ront and Shuushar, seems to stand just a little straighter. She holds her new shield and the slightly curved shortsword, looted from the drow's armory; she cuts the acid-splatteted webbing from the chasme's vacated space, which prevents any more of it from burning away from the acid. We should leave soon, Antler. I know you have a special feeling against them for those experiments they performed on you, but just make your tasks quick. That fight won't last forever. It's been...what? A few minutes since we escaped? Let's press on before our luck wears thin.

One of the giant spiders finally responds to the webs' disturbance and descends from the battlefield above to land on the webbing not too far from all of you. We'll hold it off, Antler. Go wreak your vengeance how you see fit. The spider takes its time and lazily steps towards the party and attacks Shuushar, who wields only a shield against the large creature's attack. Despite the attention, he mutters a prayer that gives a blessing to others nearby.

Giant Spider attacks Shuushar (miss).
Shuushar casts BLESS on Phoyx, Yarv, and Uonyil, all of whom are within 30' of the Spider.


Stump shies away from the action and moves to place Antler between himself and the action.

[Ramsus]

https://i.pinimg.com/564x/33/64/6c/33646cdd20a4bbe41f4ebda903034c51.jpg
Antler (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2247097)
Warforged Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 22/22
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: --
Concentration: --

Antler's unemotive face nor his rather unemotive voice portray a particular emotion at Eldeth's words, but instead of charging by himself into a room with the drow and alerting them their captors to their presence he instead takes the oil and begins splashing it around the ceiling and walls. Avoiding getting any on anyone or the things they're taking with them.

As for the sheets, he points over to the sheets he tossed down earlier.

[WarHunter]

Phoyx

Having a distraction from his worries he charges at his new foe.short sword[roll0]damage[roll1]

[Anachronity]

Uonyil grumbles about things taking too long, and launches an assault against the thing's primitive mind.

Mind Thrust for [roll0] psychic damage; DC 13 negates
move to keep distance between her and it, but careful not to separate her from the group.

[~Corvus~]

The spider tries to pry Shuushar's shield from his hands. Phoyx handily stabs the spider just as it starts to get around his guard, and then comes Uonyil's assault. Although she was sure she dealt a pittance of psychic damage, the spider recoils from her as if she was a hot brand. Ront and Eldeth both take a glance at each other, nod, and with their own shields they charge the spider and attempt to push it into the wide hole created by the former chasme. Shuushar joins them, too, and the spider reacts almost too late to get a bite in.

Shuushar AIDS both Ront and Eldeth (grants Advantage to both)

They make Str checks! +4
[roll1]+4

Spider attacks Ront [roll2]

[Roll]1d20+
Ront groans "Not again" as he feels venom spread from his elbow where it bit. He says, but Eldeth and Shuushar manage to overpower the spider, and it scrabbles downwards into the hole.

Taken by surprise, it only narrowly spins some spider webbing to slow its descent.

[WarHunter]

Phoyx
The problem with leaving you be is that you can come back up. with his shortsword he cuts the spider's lifeline.

[~Corvus~]

The spider scrabbles frantically to climb the webbing but it doesn't quite reach. It hits the water with a mild splash, and it skitters along the water, unfamiliar with the water. Partially-sunk into the water, it scrabbles along the surface to reach the side of the very large pool.

Stump points upwards to the scene above you. Not much time! We have to hurry!

The fight among the Drow and Quaggoths has turned against the invading demons. Four chasme and three vrock have arrow-and-javelin-ridden corpses collapsed against the fallen elves. Two Vrock, now pinned by Quaggoth, suffer the jabs of spears and swords as the remaining soldiers assault them as they lie pinned and restrained. Ilvara and her three priestesses, meanwhile, form a defensive line and fend off the other demons' assaults; the latter have web-covered wings, and they thrash between the spiders that lunge-and-retreat at them and the magical priestesses.

[WarHunter]

Phoyx Are we ready to go? It appears that our hosts are gaining the upper hand with their new guests.