"Why? Do you have a problem with me being here? Because I too do have a problem with me being here. And by why I'm here do you mean in this particular room or in the area in general? For latter; not a fricking clue. These people probably kidnapped us. For former; local bouncers threw me in here after stabbing me with a real spear. Can you believe it? A spear! Why spear instead of tazer or a stun baton? They could kill people with those things..."
"Seriously, this level of realism these renaissance faire kidnappers are putting up with these props is really impressive. And your cosplay is really on its own level! How much you had to pay for those body modifications? And what kind of doctor agreed to mutilate your body to that degree? By Ullr's mighty shield, I'm impressed!"
Talky stuff. Stand up slowly, study the cell and the door.
The strange person nods their head slowly as you stand up. The cell is a pretty large one - you suppose it's for several prisoners at once. Saves iron on the doors - the one door here is primarily wooden, in fact, though nevertheless quite solidly reinforced. It seems to be definitively locked. The walls are gray stone, and you note that this prison cell appears to have no windows at all, meaning that much of it is almost completely dark. If the person was in the corner before they sighed, you don't think you would have even seen them. Heck, for all you know there
could be more of them in here.
Nevertheless, you can tell from the vaguely moldy smell, cold and damp air, the general stoniness of the walls and, of course, slight movement of rodents at the edge of your vision that this is pretty much the archetypal cell. No happiness to be found here, clearly. Though you do appear to have found conversation, as when you finish your ranting inquiry the strange person immediately replies.
"The spear knows its target as well as its owner does, but not better. The doctor was most kind, but the payment was very harsh. Has Vali been born yet? Many wrongs still remain unavenged," they say, their eyes focusing on yours in a half-expectant, half-confused look. They offer their stubby arms with open palms. "May I take your cloak? It is warm in here and remaining fully dressed in someone's home is poor form."
I help the lady to her room. On the way I ask her about the trouble she's in.
You haul the girl out into the hallway, since her balance seems to be off enough to plausibly have gone out the nearby window during her revelry. She doesn't mind, and you start doing a room-by-room check of the place - you stick her in the room and check if she recognizes it as hers. If not, you move on. During this search you make a little conversation.
"Stoatmen!" she says derisively. "Bloody stoatmen, deformed malcontents. Even now there's...ugh, must be hundreds of them out there. They want me dead, dear. And they're going to get me dead, because I'm sure not letting myself be taken alive by the savages."
She mutters for a few moments, dedicating choice words to the barbarism of her hated foe that you are somewhat glad you can only barely make out. Her eyes glimmer with rage, her hands coming together and contorting in pantomimed strangulation.
"They got the rest, you know," she stammers out, her face having gone a little red. "My mother, my father... my big sister. Strung up most of them, and their ministers - my father, he got to sit on a pike, you know. Took him days to die, it did. In fact," she notes, her face going momentarily blank with realization, "in fact, maybe even after I got the crown - maybe he was alive even then."
She smiles sadly, staring off into the distance.
"Been queen for the past two months! Been
here for much longer. Kept me out of the way. Not that it's helped now, in the end. The minders tried, bless 'em. Not their fault I'm an idiot, don't you think?"
She rambles with decreasing coherence right up until you check the final room in this corridor. She doesn't seem to think this is her room, either. Realization appears to dawn on her slowly.
"Wait... wait! Wait," she says, and you wait a moment. "This isn't the right wing."
She looks around carefully.
"My room's on the other side... I think? I don't remember when I got here. Or how. Do you remember?" she asks, looking confused.
Ask mr silhouette to lower the chain.
"Hey mister, or misses, could you please lower the chain? Some jerks left me down here. I'll...I'll give you some gold coins if you do."
Collect a small easily carryable bag of gold coins. Or a large bag not very full.
"Will do," the silhouette shouts down. "First though, any rats left? Grab some for me before you come up, will you?"
You take a look at the mass of rats still swarming on the ground. It is beginning to look unsettlingly homogenous. Huh. You then look at the bags in one corner of the room, and note that you could probably mostly empty one without serious trouble. As long as you don't try to make clothing out of it, you guess.
This slipped my alerts for some reason.
"Alright. Just.... kill. 600 guys. Who have swords and stuff. Yes. That sounds. Not insane at all. Can you. Can you tell me what all is in this place? Like, buildings, and places."
The shrouded man is interrupted from his conversation with Mr. Calverly about some rat-based affair and turns to you again.
"You mean in Anglefork? 'S pretty simple," he says, and starts pointing at the various things visible in the courtyard.
The large main structure of the castle, still as forbidding as before, but slightly less well-guarded. "Now, there's the
keep, that's where most everyone lives."
The gate leading to the courtyard, flanked by two towers with quite a wealth of arrow slits and murder holes. "The
guard house - er, guard houses? Dunno if it's just one house."
Right next to the guard house, a corner building that seems to have recessed into the wall a little. "The
dungeon, stay out of there. Also the
commander's office, stay double out of there."
After that there is a wide wooden building with a large gate at which an unusually attentive-looking guard is posted. You accurately guess that's the
stable. "That's where they do the salting," the shrouded man also adds matter-of-factly, and you don't happen to question him on what that exactly means.
Next to it, a set of three small buildings. "The workshops -
carpenter,
blacksmith and the, uh," the man says, hesitating a little, "the
bone carver, yes. Don't bother the blacksmith. Or the bone carver. And the carpenter's never in - when he is, though, don't bother the poor man."
On the other side, a curious scene - a firm stone building, partly disassembled. Next to it, a smaller, very primitive stone building built from the parts missing - and next to it, a small circle of stones, with a bloodstained brown, unworked rock placed right in the middle. "There's the
chapel, the, er,
shrine and... um... the
holy circle. There's been some disagreements."
A rather small house nearby, reminiscent of the workshops. "The
masons live there. Three of them, all layabouts. Brothers - runs in the family."
Another recessed building, sloped and with a minimal profile, but just about as large as the stable. "
Storehouse. It's where we bait these days."
And finally, a thing that caught your eye before - a sizable tower, comparable in height to the keep. Smoother, too. Older, you'd think. Got a different-looking style to it. "And that's
where the minders live - well, where they lived before you ate them. Not judging, mind you. I don't judge. School's in there, too."
Eric Codeburn, COMPUTISTICS SPECIALIST
- Wounds: 1
- 6514 gp (non-sequential)
- Gold-Backed Burlap Torso Garment
- Inscribed Brick ('Water')
- Anglefork Castle: Demon Prince
Benny Calverly, Barber
- Naked
- Finely Crafted Knotted Sack-Club
Leif Erikson, Miner
- Traces of Gore: Bits On One's Bits
- Reappropriated Skirt
- 1 gp
- License to Bathe
- Anglefork Castle: Lunatic
- Elongated Affairs: A Game of Words
- Wounds: 1 (alleviated)
Robert Johnson, MLG
- Naked
- Exhausted
- A Word: WATER
- Traces of Mischief: Blackened Fingers
- Traces of Mischief: A Choking Odor
- Heavily Improvised Sack-Flail (110 gp)
- The Mind, It Goes A-Wandering: 1
Eileen Minett, Vinyl Collector
- Naked
- Sticks: 0.95 (total)
- Rat Pantheon: Disliked
- Traces of Mischief: Mouthful of Blackness
- Anglefork Castle: the New Queen's Confidant
Author
Topic: Our Salvation: It Is Written (Read 244063 times)