OoC: Kay I'm using Marmion in this little Rp. I want only weak characters for this Rp since I want them to have to struggle to escape out of this mess they will find themselves in.
Held captive in a mist of war. Locked in a dungeon, deep below the castle a group of unlikely people have to break free and escape without becoming involved in the war and conflict.
This is a basic idea of what going on any question fill free to ask. This is a open Rp to all that wants to join and after it gets started I'll leave the turn order open to all that wants to post. I'll post again after Wisp Quill, Flueworks, K9doggie, Puck and Raddy if he so choose has made there openings.
The chilling wind gust through the open field calm and strong, almost knocking the small boy off his feet. Young Marmion had been traveling all night in hopes for a peaceful less scary place than the woods. The moist morning air and the fresh dew of the grass made him feel soaked even if he wasn’t wet. He walked with his staff holding him up and helping him long. He could see the large gates of the city ahead though he wasn’t sure if it would be safer or not than sleeping in the woods. But he thought about the chance of getting a bed and it made it seem better.
I hope I can make it to the gates. Come on Marmion you can do it. It not that far I hope. He thought to himself as he felt the heavy lids on his eyes quickly becoming hard to keep open. It wasn’t for a few more steps when he felt himself fall and lost the will to fight anymore.
“Alright everyone as you know, we are at war. Anyone you find in the city of Chupo or it’s outskirts are to be taken in as war criminals we can’t take the chance of them sending a spy here. The King wishes to not kill if needed and so far there hasn’t been any sight of the enemy. But they are coming and I’m not so soft to let them have their way. So I’m sending team of five to walk our outer broader.”
The strong commander continued to speak to the soldier about his plans to keep the city safe. Everyone listen until he was done and the teams dispatched to their post. Team 7 which was sent to clear and check the forest spotted the young boy only a mile from the city. “Leader there and girl dead in the grass a head what should we do?” He asked point to the boy head of him.
“ It might be a trap. Keep you guns ready men. I’ll approach first.” He said walking closer to the pink hair body before pointing it with his gun. Marmion groaned and move a bit, but didn’t wake up. “She alive men, be careful.” He said taking his hand and turning the mage over uncovering the staff. The man quickly grabbed the weapon and tossed it to the other soldiers.
“We have ourselves a male wizard here men. He must be an enemy. We are taking him back and locking him up. “
Once upon a time there was a young Lord named Byron Begara.
And then he got drunk.
And it was glorious.
“Another round my good barkeep!” Dutifully the doughy bar-tendress slid over a mug of frosty water she called ale. While there may have been very little actual alcohol in the drink Byron made sure to drink more then enough to get him well and truly drunk. Luckily he had the foresight to purchase a room in the same inn. Three cheers for planning ahead. Also Ale!
The bar was your standard sort. A single bars, rows of wooden tables perfect for flipping. Rowdy men flirted with obvious whores thinking themselves macho, while the real serving girls did their best to avoid aforementioned men. It was the sort of bar an elf, a dwarf, and a warrior woman could meet up to go on a quest to save the world or somesuch. It was a knights bar.
Though lacking in chivalry. Back when Byron was a lord in truth he would have been disgusted at a place like this but it was not so bad. It was relatively clean, and unlike some he was unlikely to be stabbed for looking at someone wrong. It could still happen, it was just not the likely course of events.
“Are you Byron Begara.” A voice behind him said sounding a bit too official for such a place of drunken revelry.
“Huh...” Byron stood up slowly his knees wobbling with effort and turned with a flourish of his riding cloak. He had just, earlier that day actually, gotten to the city and was still wearing his brown leather riding attire, “Sir. It is Sir Byron.” He pointed to his silver clasp holding up his cloak. If he wasn't so drunk he may have remembered he left his sword in his room before he tried to grab for it awkwardly.
The two soldiers looked at each other before pointing their boomsticks at Byron. “You're under arrest.”
Yeah. That was going to happen. He groggily reached for his dagger (A good knight always has one) and shot forward far faster then a drunk had any right to be. Is slid easily into the first guards stomach and out just as easily as the man stared blankly at him his face paling. Turning swiftly he pointed his red stained dagger at the second man, resiting the urge not to puke up all his expensive ale.
Less then a second later Byron was on the floor. His head stung, and his shoulder burned and everything was going all spiny. For half a second he looked like he was going to get up, snatch his dagger off the floor, and continue the fight.
Instead he turned his head, puked, and passed out in a pool of his own vomit and blood. Apparently it was going to happen. Getting arrested is fun.
How he had arrived here, he did not know. It was probably some magic portal, or experiment gone wrong, he guessed, but could not quite remember. Where “here” was he did not know either. But he remembered men attacking him, or was it he who attacked the men. Probably both. And then he must have lost.
He tried to open his eyes, but they were heavy and his sight could barely make out some iron bars around him.
So I’m caged?he thought to himself, with some slight amusement. The bars were wide enough for him to slip through as a ferret. And apparently he was still in some large form. He couldn’t even remember.
How long have I been here? he wondered, and tried to change back to his ferret form. But, he was too tired to even try. It was as if he had no will left. He fell unconscious again.
He woke a few times over the next days, and could only barely muster enough energy to eat some of the meat in the bowl placed next to him. He suspected the food was drugged, but his mind was too clouded to think clearly the short time he was awake.
“Help me,” he growled from time to time, with the faint hope that someone would somehow save him from whatever was done to him.
Baltazar was used to pain, but it was rarely enjoyable to feel like you had spent the last few hours as a stand-in for the punching bag of an entire battalion of soldiers. Usually such pain had a reason behind it - they were rarely good, but still - so Baltazar found himself puzzled when he couldn't remember any such reason being given for why he felt like he did.
The question of why was immediately substituted with what as Baltazar opened his eyes. Either someone had given his room a rather extreme makeover or he had been relocated to a different location entirely. It was dark, gloomy and - if the smell was any clue - not a place that was regularly cleaned. More interesting however was the fact that he appeared to be in a prison, and not on the good side of the prison bars.
"Bah..." murmured Baltazar as he struggled to sit up. According to the pain in his back, he had been sleeping on the cold and hard ground for at least a few hours. Naturally his weapons had been removed, and they'd even taken his hat. The worst part was that his pockets, which usually contained at least one tiny bottle of rum, were completely empty. Suddenly this already rather poor evening got a lot worse.
Baltazar sighed and leaned against the wall, trying to collect his thoughts. He couldn't remember being dragged away to a prison, which only left two possibilities - he had been taken here while sound asleep, or he had been completely smashed on booze. It could have been that he'd been so drunk that he'd fallen asleep and then was taken to the prison. It certainly sounded like a plausible scenario. Although it still didn't answer that first question; why was he here? Surely he couldn't have done something so stupid while under the ever-tempting effects of alcohol that he had to go to jail for it? Baltazar knew he had a small problem when it came to drinking (in that he rarely stopped on his own) but he had never gotten into serious trouble over it. Maybe a few teeth gone missing, a few windows getting broken, accidentally knocking over the barmaid, but never something that warranted imprisonment.
By the sound of it, he wasn't alone in this prison. He could hear voices all over, most of which were tiny and exhausted. However, what little view he had didn't seem to reveal any guard who he could talk to.
"I want my hat..." groaned Baltazar as he leaned against the wall, hoping that within the hour he'd at least know why he was there and whether he could get out or not.
The streets were strangely quiet. Aurae tried to tread as silently as she could, so as not to break the noiselessness. Did this city have a curfew? Did anyone actually live in this part of it at all?
The stillness was broken, like the surface of a pool shattered by a stone, by a sound behind her. Running footsteps, getting closer. A man sprinted around a corner towards her, and she tried to step backwards to avoid him. But he sped straight towards her, reached out, and ripped the cloak from her shoulders. She spun and staggered as he thrust a bundle of fabric against her and hurtled on around another corner and out of sight.
Stunned, she hurriedly unwrapped the crumpled ball of tattered brown fabric he had left her with. It was a cloak.
‘Hey!’ she yelled, and broke into a sprint, heading for the corner he had just rounded. It lead onto a long road with many smaller roads branching off in various directions. Which one had he taken? He couldn’t have gone far, so she ran down the central road, peering into each alleyway.
More noise behind her – the pounding of many feet, the rattle of weapons, and shouting.
‘He went this way!’
She glanced round in time to see a group of about ten soldiers speeding round the corner she had just come from.
‘Over there!’ One of them bellowed. ‘A brown cloak! That’s the one!’
‘A woman? Are you sure?’
‘Yes – arrest her!’
Aurae looked down in dismay at the cloak she was holding, turned, and sprinted as fast as she could down the main road, still holding the brown cloak tightly. The soldiers were close behind her, and she doubled her efforts, her legs burning.
Something stung the back of her neck – something small and sharp. She lifted a hand to pull it out, but suddenly she felt numb. Her arm dropped, and she stumbled and fell, limp as a rag doll. She was briefly aware of something pressing into her back, pinning her down, and the click of handcuffs and some voices above her, until everything went away.
Aurae opened her eyes. She was dimly aware of four stone walls surrounding her, one with a heavy-looking metal door set into it. She was slumped in a corner on a pile of damp straw. Feeling was beginning to return to her body, first to her feet and hands, her legs and arms, and then to her head, which was throbbing madly.
Her hand went to the back of her neck, which was still numb. There was something stuck there. She pulled gently and it came out. A dart? It must have been drugged. Now she remembered being chased and captured by the soldiers. Where was she now?
Slowly, she got to her feet. The door had a small, barred opening. Peering through, she could see the opposite wall. Hanging there were her sword, her belt, and her knives, which had been hidden in her sleeves, along with the brown cloak that had been swapped for hers.
Taking a deep breath, she turned back to her cell. How was she going to get out?
OoC: Kay puck your up. You get the pleasure of getting things rolling from here.
“It seems we got a lot of guest down here. I guess you won’t be lonely Mage.” The solider said carrying Marmion over his shoulder while entering the holding place. It was dark and the rotten smell of death flesh entered the mage’s noise waking him up a bit. “Now where to place you so you won’t make trouble for me. Hmm… What a nice group of people we got here.”
He glanced through the cells taking careful notice of each person. The first cell he looked at had a man of which he knew did nothing, but sleep. His eyes passed him quickly and glanced over to the newly arrived woman. She had the look of fire in her eyes when she first was drugged and caught so he didn’t think it would be best to give her the little mage.
He then glanced between the two drunks that were placed across from each other. He looked over that the older man than at the younger man. He thought the cell with the younger of the two would be best. He opened the door and tossed the half awaken body at the young boy and quickly closed the door. “Play nice you two.” He said as he walked out the door.
“Ouch!” Marmion said as he rubbed his head and noticed something that felt like a human under him. He jumped and fell on his butt looking around him in disbelief. He didn’t say anything reaching for his hood to hide his long girly hair. He could feel it and he look to notice that his hoodie was gone along with his staff.
He felt panic building and he jumped to his feet and ran to the bar of the cell. He grabbed hold of the bars and tired with his weak arms to pull them for the ground. “NO!!” He screamed and felt the metal warm and he jumped away holding himself close tiring to control himself a bit.
The cell was not the worst one Byron had ever been in. It was fairly roomy, and the whole dungeon was near filled so isolation was not a problem. It was even almost warm. If dungeons had suites, this would definitely be one. It would be even better if that dumbass on his face would get off!
“NO!” He screamed. Whoop-de-do. As if he had never been arrested before. It was practically second nature to Byron by then.
Sitting up the knight rubbed his eyes and groaned. His head was pounding from the fight the night before. Also the drinking. Of course remembering the drinking served to make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. “Idiot.” He said, his voice croaking as he spoke. What he wouldn't give for a drink.
“Move.” He stumbled to his feet leaving heavily on the wall of his cell. With one hand he shoved the pink-haired-dandy out of the way, and with the other he took out his lock picking tools. It might be best not to ask where he kept them.
“One two and.” With a three the lock clicked, and the door swung open. “Taadaa.” he turned to the... he assumed man by his attire. Though he reserved the right to change his mind later. “I Am Sir Byrontius Begara. I hath rescued you from capture, and thusly you owe me a drink.” He laughed, and escaped. It was too easy.
Point of order: Saying something was 'too easy' is a terrible idea.
When the others had been brought down to the prison cell, Simon hadn’t bothered noticing. People came and went all the time in this place, and his state of mind did not help his sense of time. He had suppressed the screams and the cries from the lower levels, and pretty much every other noise. The prison guards left him pretty much alone by now, seeing as all he did were eating and sleeping. From what he had gathered from the few parts of the guardsmen’s conversation he was awake enough to catch, there was a great war on the outside, and every outsider were accused for being spies.
He had been examined, he assumed. There was a memory of a caped man with a staff, probably a wizard or a druid of some kind. Then when he woke, he felt sorer than usual and in some places his fur had been shaved off. After that even, he had mostly been left alone. There had been the occasional guard who tried to act tough by poking him with the blunt end of the spear. But that too had ceased, for poking a great, white tiger soon gets boring when said animal does not react.
Eating and sleeping. For how long, he could not say. Days blurred past as his senses accommodated to the constant loudness of the guards and prisoners passing by. And when Marmion, Byron, Baltazar and Aurae, one after another, were brought down to the holding cells, the noises were the same; rowdy guards, fainted or gagged prisoners. Nothing had changed.
But when the sound of a lock unlocked by a lock pick reached his ear, his tail stirred. Then, when the smell of a prisoner coming, the opposite way, with no guards by his side, his nose stirred.
“Help,” he tried, but only a slight growl came out; his tongue and throat were too dry to properly speak the human language.
Noise, noise, noise. Baltazar groaned as he curled up in his corner, trying to stay warm in his roomy and lonely cell. Couldn't a poor guy get some shut-eye around here without there being so much damn noise?
Baltazar's eyes flew up. He definitely heard something - someone - on the other side of the door. He crept over to it and peeked out of the door's small, barred window. There he saw a most peculiar sight - a tall, strongly built young man, probably no older than 18 or so, striding out of his cell like it was the most natural thing in the world. Apparently the guards were nowhere to be found, perhaps too busy rounding up more people to throw into prison.
He didn't know who this person was, but Baltazar did find the idea of a prison break to be rather tempting at this point. After all, he still didn't know why he had been brought in and there were no-one around to tell him. Surely that ought to be enough for a moment to go free, right?
"Works for me," said Baltazar to himself. He knelt down and put his palm on the cold stone floor. "Callus!"
The energy that released was enough to blow the cell's door off its hinges. A great bear thundered out into the corridor with a roar before promptly sitting down on the ground and looking back at Baltazar.
"What have you done now, you dumb oaf?" it groaned.
"Whatever do ya mean, chump?" asked Baltazar innocently as he stepped delicately over the toppled door on his way out of the cell.
"We're in a prison. And I've got a feeling that I just helped you break out of it."
"That's right, you're my accomplice now!" said Baltazar as he walked over to each door, having a peek inside. If he was lucky enough to taste the sweetness of freedom, surely others shouldn't be left out. He just hoped that there weren't any real criminals in here - although considering where they were, that thought was perhaps a little naïve.
He stopped when he came across a cell where a great white tiger was being kept. It didn't look too good.
"Whoa, that's one mean-lookin' kitty cat," muttered Baltazar to himself. He felt bad for it though. This was no way to treat such a creature. Besides, who in their right mind would put a tiger in a bloody prison?
"Alright kitty, you just stay there in your corner and I'll slowly remove this door for ya, okay? And on your way out, please remember to, err, not eat me or anythin'... just thought I'd let ya know. I don't really wanna be eaten today."
He took a step back and looked at the bear. It looked back at him, sighed, and stomped over to the door before violently tearing it off and throwing it on top of the other door.
Aurae peered through the bars at her belongings hanging on the wall opposite, and at the other prisoners. She was in some interesting company, she could see that. She watched as one by one they escaped - the younger drunk, then the older one and his great bear, and then the white tiger.
Why were they all in here? But more importantly, how would she escape with them? There were no guards present, but they could come back at any minute. The sound of doors being ripped off of hinges wasn't exactly a quiet one. She needed to be quick.
She couldn't break out using brute strength or magic, that was certain. She ran her hands quickly over the walls, testing for weak spots, but finding none. Kneeling down, she examined the lock. No good either - she had nothing to pick it with, and it looked to sturdy for strength to be any use.
Out of ideas, she banged uselessly on the door. She couldn't get out by herself.
'I don't suppose anyone would be kind enough to let me out as well?' She asked.
Marmion with beyond scared after hearing and see a man rip the metal bars out of his way and do it again. He tried to hid and sneak away from everyone until he hear a sweet voice near. He looked around and found a woman in one of the cells. He walked over to her and looked at her closing to see if she seems dangerous or not. She didn’t but could do anything about the bars without his staff.
“Stay clam I’ll get help. I hope.” He said to her thought his mind before looking over at the men and tiger? He wonder where and why a tiger was here, but he hope it could be helpful. “Umm Tiger I have a problem. I want to help this woman out. But those men over there are scary and I don’t want to talk to them. Can you get the strong one to come here?” He asked looking and pointing to the man as he talked to the tiger through his mind. Something he can do even without his staff.
OoC: For those that haven't Rped with Marmion he is able to talk to anything and can choose to have only one thing or person hear him or have everyone hear him. Right now only Aurae and Simon are hearing and are right now able to talk to him through the same means. His gift is a two way street.
“Hey Pretty lady,” Byron shoved the pretty-haired boy unceremoniously out of the way. He smiled down at the young trapped girl and rubbed his stubble. “I do hope you're a maid, as rule a knight should only save maids.” He chuckled to himself ignoring any signs of discomfort in the girl before leaning down. It only took a few clicks of his lock picking tools before the door swung open.
And just like that all prisoners of importance were freed. Sort of.
“Ahem.” Byron cleared his throat hoping to get the attention of the others. Only they ignored him. Apparently they had not yet realized their were in the presence of nobility. So, he kicked over a mop bucket spilling water over the dirty floor.
“AHEM!” He said again standing on top of it. “Please. Quiet down. Obviously we are in a precarious predicament. We are in an enemy castle, and what more we were already captuered once. If we work togther our victory becomes easier. Thus, we must. Obvious it is I who must be in charge an-and... crap.” No less then four guards turned the corner. “Someone kill them!”
Someone kill them, someone said. Well, that someone was not going to be Simon, at any rate. However, he had managed to pad over to the exit, and, to his annoyance, he could smell the water spilled on the floor. Which fool had done that? He needed water to get this poison out of his head. He tried to lick the stones, but all he got were wet dust. It was refreshing though, but left him only with a dryer throat than before.
He turned his head to look at the guards, which now stood quite still, weighing their options. One thing was teasing a tiger in a cage. Another thing were to brave a loose tiger, to get to a few prisoners, who also had to face the tiger to get out. So they held their ground with their swords and shields and spears.
Simon did not care for them. Instead, he made his way through the other guys, towards where the bucket lay, hoping there was at least some water left… in the upturned bucket…
"Someone kill them!" said the gentleman as four guards turned the corner. Understandably the guards didn't make an immediate move, as there was a big tiger standing between them and the escaped prisoners. Baltazar couldn't really do anything either, as he was without his weapons and couldn't see them anywhere nearby, meaning that they had probably been moved into some room for storage.
He suddenly realized; they had probably moved his booze to the storage too.
"Go get 'em!" yelled Baltazar to his trusty bear. "But don't kill! I need them alive!"
"Whatever you say, boss," said the bear. And while a passive tiger was enough to stagger the poor guards, it was something else entirely to stand against a charging bear. One of them had already done a complete turn-around and made a run for it, but the bear had already trampled the others and slammed the would-be runaway into the ground with its colossal weight. Baltazar immediately followed, kicking away the weapons that the guards had dropped and grabbing the only one who was still conscious.
"Where's my stuff?" he said loudly as he shook the guard violently. "Tell me where my stuff is!"
"S-s-s-s-storage!" stammered the guard, trying to shield himself while simultaneously moving as far away from the bear as he possibly could. "P-probably storage! F-f-f-further down!"
Baltazar shoved him back and snatched a pair of large keys from his belt. He stood and glanced at the others. "I dunno about you guys, but I need my stuff. Anyone else?"
Aurae stared in wonder as the bear thundered towards the four terrified guards, then headed for the open door. As the guards were toppled by the bear, she crossed through it to the opposite wall, edging carefully past the tiger and the man who seemed to think he was some kind of lord, and reclaimed her belongings. They had probably been planning to move them to storage but had not got round to it yet. She helped the boy who had spoken to her with his mind to his feet, murmering a quiet 'thank you'.
She then looked at the man who had just finished with the last guard. She had already taken back her stuff, but they should probably stay together, and a trip to storage couldn't hurt. It might actually be quite useful. Either way, she wanted to get out of this dungeon.
'I'll come.' She said, stepping forward.
Marmion walked behind the woman and peeked from behind her when asked if anyone needed anything else. “Well… they took something to me that mean more than the world to me. I’ll as helpful as I can if you are willing to help me get it back.” The little boy said trying to hide his body behind the woman and the darkness.
“Just don’t stare at my hair. I need to find my hoodie also.” He said as he heard more guards come down the stairs. He then ran forwards and got if front of everyone as he focused his powers into his eyes. A deadly dragon’s glare pierced through the darkness, reaching the weak guards coming after them. After and few screams every soldier ran away leaving them alone once again. Marmion’s breathing became heavy and he held his chest for a moment. “I must find my staff.” He said before walking out of the doorway.
Byron took a look at his situation. It seemed his demand that he be put in charge was summarily ignored. How nice. So really that left him with three viable options first; throw a temper tantrum and demand respect due to rank, secondly: Kill the largest person and take command by force, or finally; give up and follow along. Not like being in charge actually effect anything but Byron's considerable ego.
“Fine.” Byron said jogging up to the guy with the pet bear. “I'm coming. They stole my cloak and dagger.”
“Why is all the water gone?” Simon asked himself, trying to cope with the fact that while the bucket did have the odor of water, there was nothing in it. His drugging seemed to have shut down his higher functions, his reasoning among them. But his primitive senses told him that he needed water to get the poison out of his blood, so he did what he could best, and chased after the humans who had exited the room. Blood and meat would probably work as well.
As he peaked out of the doorway and into the corridor, he noticed what he had forgotten; a bear walked among them. He did not wish to fight a bear right now, so he skulked some distance behind them, either waiting for an opportunity to attack, or the chance that they would pass something he could drink.
"Oh dear, I'm so sorry, he's only violent when he's grumpy."
The storage was located in the floor beneath the prison cells, and it consisted of one huge room that was filled with all sorts of junk. Baltazar and the others stood by the door, watching as Baltazar's bear pinned down the only guard nearby to the ground with its massive weight.
"Well then, good chap, just you stay there while we get our things," said Baltazar cheerfully. The groups spread out as the room was quite big and there were a lot of things to search through.
"If you find a pair of guns, do tell," said Baltazar to the others before he started searching the room. A lot of clothes, armor and various equipment was laying around, but no sign of his guns or booze. He wondered silently to himself just how many prisoners they'd taken to this building already.
"Ah, here we go!" he exclaimed as he pulled one of his familiar magnum-resembling guns from up from underneath a big coat. He searched nearby for the other one, but it took a long while before one of the others found it for him.
"Blimey, this place is a real mess," he said as he received the gun. "No organizing or anything of the sort."
The storage room smelled of dust and damp, and the piles of objects that littered the floor towered above Aurae as she made her way carefully between them.
There had to be something uselful in here somewhere, she thought, something that could help them get out. What would they need? A map, maybe? No, they wouldn't keep a map of whatever place this was in with all this rubbish. Food? If there was any in here, which wasn't likely, it would be way past edible.
There were definitely a lot of weapons, though - maybe she could borrow something. She looked up as the bear man found one of his guns. That was a good sign. The other one couldn't be far away. Scanning the piles for anything she knew how to use, she saw axes, swords, and many other things she didn't know names for. Among them she saw part of a gun which looked a bit like the one the man was holding. It was buried under a large pile of other things, which she did her best not to knock over as she knelt down and began to work the weapon free.
It came eventually, and she stood up and tossed it across to the man. Just then there was a clatter. Something had fallen off the pile. Then another, and another. The clatters soon joined together and became a mighty, tumbling crash as the entire pile toppled onto the floor, each object landing with a noise that seemed deafening to their ears.
Eventually it stopped, and everything lay still. There was silence. Aurae held her breath. Then footsteps, many feet pounding along the corridor outside. She cursed, diving behind one of the piles which was still standing. She landed on something - a quiver of arrows. She could use these! Picking it up, she looked around for a bow. There was one a few metres away, near the pile she had knocked over. She tried to reach for it, but it was just out of range. If she was quick she might just get to it in time...
The guards spilled in, forming a line across the door, pointing their weapons at the intruders. Peering out, she counted about twenty.