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Servitude of Souls. (D&D)

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Servitude of Souls. (D&D)

Postby Talon Sinnah » Fri Oct 07, 2005 8:42 am

The slave caravan rolled across the Plains of Whispers. The caravan was making for the capital city Monraih(Mon-rye). Six caravans pulled by large oxen wheeled along in a straight line, each holding prisoners. A light rain was falling but the echoing thunder sent hints of a larger storm on the horizon. The drivers had intentionally taken the ceilings off of the wagons so the rain would fall in further breaking the slaves. Each slaves hands where shackled and bound along with a pair of loose fitting ankle manickles so the servants could walk. They had all their original cloths on if they were in tatters so much the better.

The head slave driver sat comfortably in the covered wagon at the head of the caravan. A very evil human that went by the name Brice Bentley. His trade mark feature was a long cresent scar that ran the left side of his face and his hair he kept slicked back only gave him a weasel like appearence. Oh but he was making a good amount of money off of this business, considering Baron Micheals whole campaign.
Last edited by Talon Sinnah on Wed Oct 12, 2005 11:43 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Gropo of Deerhaunt

Postby Qray » Sat Oct 08, 2005 2:17 am

Sitting on the floor, back to the wall, occasionally shifting with the jerking motion of the caravan, Gropo again considered how cruel the fates could be. Growing up in the northern human town of Deerhaunt, all the man had wanted to was get out and see the world. Maybe find a little adventure and wealth. Hiring on as a guard with a passing trade caravan had gotten him out of town, but it'd done little to sate his desire for adventure. Not to mention the only "world" he’d seen was the constant dirt road stretching on ahead as he scanned the horizon for bandits that never came.

With the meager coin he’d managed to save from a year of caravan guarding, Gropo had stayed in the last town the traders had passed through with the intention of buying a horse of his own and trying to find an adventuring crew that might be hiring.

That was before he’d tangled with the town guard. Or rather before they had tangled with him. Running right into him as Gropo had walked down the main street, the guards had first warned him to watch were he was going. A situation that had quickly degenerated into Gropo being slapped in shackles for assault even though he’d never thrown a single punch.

It was his own fault, he’d been warned by some of the caravan guards he’d traveled with to watch himself. That slave labor was in short supply and trumped up charges were common.

23 years old and a simple desire to see the world and some adventure had landed him in captivity.

Raising his hands, Gropo pulled his arms apart to tighten the chain connecting the shackles and ran one hand through his shortly cropped blonde hair to ring out some of the rain water. Keeping one hand far out in front to make sure the chain stayed taut and out of his face. A light bruise on his nose from the chain showing he hadn’t learned this trick right away.

Lowering his hands, the chain banged the man's knees as he scratched at the few days of growth covering his face. Wincing slightly when his fingers ran over the faded scar on his chin. A healed wound that would forever remain there as a prize from his youth. One that reminded him of the dangers of exploring ruins without first properly placing your rappelling pinions. One that always seemed to hurt every time the weather turned foul. “Always when it rains,” the man thought to himself and glanced up out of the cart at the falling rain that pelted his face. Letting his head fall back to allow the falling rain to wash away the smell of captivity.

He hadn’t bathed in a number of days and from the stench in the cart, realized he was probably one of the luckier ones. Some of the captives had obviously gone much longer than that.

Dropping his shackled hands between his legs where it’d be harder for others to see them, he used his muscles to test the strength of the metal [roll 12(+4str)]. Not planning on breaking his binds if he could, where would he go, but just to see if it were possible in case he found the need for it later. Looking about the caravan as he did to examine his fellow captives...
Last edited by Qray on Sun Oct 09, 2005 12:45 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Postby who me » Sun Oct 09, 2005 2:53 am

the blond girl did not look like a slave. It was in the way she moved, the way she looked at people. she had the look of some one who was used to telling people what to do and them doing it. she took care of her self even now. she had told the others in the wagon containing the women that her name was Aileen.

Aileen was angry mostly at her self, the world out side the castle was allot harder that she had thought it would be, and more traitorous.
when she had asked Brice Bentley to take her to capital city Monraih and paid him good money to do so she had not expected to end up in a slave caravan.

she knew a few things with certainty
if the prince was looking for her it was unlikely that he could find her.
her companions had traveled north. It would be some time before they even began looking for her.
Devan and Bare would laugh there heads off if they ever found out. the first time they leave her on her own and she missteps in to a big bare trap.

she held her hands cupped to catch the rain, the price for a drink of clean water was to be wet and cold for a while.
Aileen did not like the slaves they let others take care of them, in exchange they served. that was to close to the life she had just run away from. and all the gold she had taken was now in the hands of a another. but not what she had learned. that was still hers.
slaves stand before a open cage door and wonder when his master will come back to close it.
perchance she said to herself as she watched the rain drops filling her hands for her second drink of water. this situation like the rain was would pass.
Last edited by who me on Sat Oct 15, 2005 12:15 am, edited 4 times in total.
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Postby Talon Sinnah » Tue Oct 11, 2005 11:26 am

In response to Q. (fort roll 13+5=18) The chains do not even falter as Gropo trys his luck at snapping the chains.
I am the poet of the body and I am the poet of the Soul. The pleasures of heaven are with me and the pains of hell are with me. The first I graft and increase upon myself, the latter I translate into a new tongue.

-Walt Whitman-
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Postby Qray » Tue Oct 11, 2005 6:10 pm

Gropo looks around. At the walls, the floor, and up above. He then examines the others in the caravan (if there is any) as he wonders about the schedule of the slavers. If they'll stop for the night or just continue through. If they'll make stops to rest and water the oxen. How long, far, and in what direction it seems they've been traveling. He tries to remember if he heard anything about the slavers in the town other than the warning he received from the other trade gaurds.
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Postby Talon Sinnah » Wed Oct 12, 2005 9:47 am

Lyndon noticed the big guy looking around. He spoke up thinking it high time they heard some noise other then the rain pelting down on them. "Hey man forget it they are not going to stop tonight. They will be changing shift here shortly maybe in the next hour so you may as well sit tight. My name is Lyndon. What is yours?" The Half elf removed his black hair from his jade colored eyes and watched Gropo.
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Postby Dr_Love » Fri Oct 14, 2005 4:38 pm

Being in one of the last cages, Karlix sit motionless glancing around. He only wanted to survive and live life like he wanted, but instead he was picked up from his camp a dark night when he rain was at it's fullest. He never knew that the man was there, nor did he realize how bad a club hurts to the head. "They will pay for this" He whispered to himself. He sighed softly and yanked hard on the chain to his leg, attempting to break it or atleast weaken it some. (roll of 14+2 SRT=16)
"They are a curious thing, these emotions. How they fly in the face of logic, how they overrule the most basic instincts. Because, in the measure of time, in the measure of humanity, we sense those self-indulgent instincts to be a weakness, we sense that the needs of the community must outweight the desires of the one. Only when we admit to our failures and recognize our weaknesses can we rise above them. Together." -Drizzt Do'Urden
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Postby who me » Sat Oct 15, 2005 12:30 am

Aillen sat and looked around observing the other wagons, not all the wagons contained "slaves" it seems that soon to be dead Brice Bentley had tricked others into servitude as well.
Aillen did not think that this was smart, if she did not kill him some one else would, some of the men in the other wagons looked like that was in there future plans. it is bad for business tricking people in to slavery, you never know who they are. she had never killed a person before. she drew her wool cloak closer around her self to keep warm. she would hide a small knife in the lining of her clothing and some small gold coins. she cupped her hands again to catch the rain drink all you can who knows when you will see clean water. wait and watch bare had said to her often. the waiting is all...
Last edited by who me on Sat Oct 15, 2005 11:14 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Postby Qray » Sat Oct 15, 2005 9:47 pm

"Gropo," Gropo said to Lyndon. "From up North. How'd you get in here? What do you know about these slavers? Any idea where we're going?"
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Postby Dr_Love » Mon Oct 17, 2005 7:26 am

Giving up on the chain to break he only sighed quietly. He looked around to see if he could get anything to use to pick the lock of the chains.(Search= 27(17 roll, 10 mod).
"They are a curious thing, these emotions. How they fly in the face of logic, how they overrule the most basic instincts. Because, in the measure of time, in the measure of humanity, we sense those self-indulgent instincts to be a weakness, we sense that the needs of the community must outweight the desires of the one. Only when we admit to our failures and recognize our weaknesses can we rise above them. Together." -Drizzt Do'Urden
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Postby Talon Sinnah » Mon Oct 17, 2005 11:42 am

Dr. Love all you see is a small stick in the floor and a large half orc in the corner.

Q:"I came from the south personally." Lyndon said cheerfully. (Qray roll a gather information check)

Who Me A female looked at the Aileen in the corner. The woman wa young and appeared to be half elf. "Excuse me Aileen was it?"
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Postby Qray » Tue Oct 18, 2005 1:37 am

Gropo has never known a slave to be "cheerful" and will treat Lyndon with suspicion.

Gropo performs the following tasks in the following order. Q will be back later in the week...

Gather information [roll 14( 1chr)]

Search [roll 9( 1int)]

Attempts to break shackle chains again if allowed [roll 13( 4str)]
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