Open Chronicles Dragons In Chains

[Asemir]

As a Komodi she was used to the glares and the leering, the scathing remarks and cutting insults. Her people were often considered a pestilence - while rare now, they could be found in just about any thriving trade port, and where Komodi went trouble often followed. Melfa had lived a life of many troubles, though usually they were not of her own doing. Today was testament to this.

When the sun rose it spilled over a horizon broken by the silhouette of a sprawling city. Having never been this far west of The Spine, Melfa had no bearings to her whereabouts. Keen yellow eyes peered at the massive city walls through the bars of the prisoner cart. The Guards walking and riding at either side were talking, but she couldn't hear them over the clatter-bang of the wagon nor the hoofbeats of the horses in the contingent.

They rode past farmsteads and through a smaller outerlying village. Along a dusty and well-traveled road leading to the gaping mouth of an open portcullis. The sounds of the city grew loud - a veritable hive of people, all races milling through their daily lives. Eyes turned to the prison cart, jeers followed, someone threw a rotten cabbage - it exploded upon impact with the bars, showering the occupants with browning cabbage leaves.

The others occupyign the cart with her snarled - orcs, mostly, and some bedraggled looking humans. None of them were examples of what one might expect out of the Warclans of the Spine, these were a motley crew of scrawny scavengers. Melfa, for once, looked out of place with them for all the right reasons. The Komodo sat silent in the car, observing while the other prisoners threw themselves feistily at the cage and the people beyond.

Her stomach growled. Melfa grabbed a wad of rotten cabbage leaves and stuffed them in her mouth. The cart moved on through the crowds.

Where was she?

 

[Jeriah Thackett]

"Nykios' hairy stones," Thackett muttered. He leaned forwards in his saddle and was already reaching for his bag of pipe leaf. The problem with plans was having to perpetually make new ones. For all the work done all it took was a change in the weather and the guards deciding to set out with their prisoners a day early.

As he filled his pipe with leaf he admitted to himself that there hadn't been much planning anyway. It wasn't hard to play my friend was thrown from her horse. They had done it several times and one of their horses was particularly good at pretending to have fallen badly. Now that the caravan was inside the city they had two days to break their half-orc axeman out of a prison before he was executed with the others.

"Let's go and find an inn. We need a new plan and that means we need wine."

 

[William de Courcey]

"The pipe isn't going to give an answer"

William wasn't too bothered with the lack of action. It hadn't been their finest piece of work. Nor could he imagine that prison caravan guards were going to be overly sympathetic to a group of travellers in distress. But he hadn't been in favour of it either. Sans axeman, they were lacking some serious muscle in the group. None of them were warriors. Jeriah could act like a swordmaster but not fight like one. William had made it this far in life by avoiding brawling with trained professionals.

"I'd murder some food as well" he said, "Think we can refrain from hitting the second bottle until we've the semblance of a plan?"

 

[Asemir]

With the prison caravan making its slow crawl through the town, Melfa had a chance to get a good look at her surroundings. Nothing spoke to her as familiar, but it paid to be attentive to one's surroundings. Passing through rows of buildings built from stone and timber, her yellow eyes flickered from door to door. A store here, a tavern there. She couldn't read the signs, but it was easy enough to tell by merchant stalls, a painted sign with a boar and a flagon of ale, and the smells of food drifting about.

Her stomach rumbled again. The cart gave a sudden jerk as it turned down a narrower alley bereft of foot traffic and natural light. Blocked in on either side by the rise of two stone and mortar walls, she watched as a group of guards took up their post at the entrance to the alley. It occured to her they were likely heading into the belly of the city's prison fort.

She wasn't wrong.

They pulled to a stop in an enclosed stone courtyard.

"Process these sorry codgers," a man of shiny armor snarled as he turned his horse around the yard, "and watch out for the horned one."

Melfa might've raised a brow or two had she the physical capability, but the keratinous growth of her atypical horns had spread far enough down her forehead that she was forever caught in a beastly scowl. The komodo flicked her forked tongue in the air and watched the man, likely some sort of Captain, as he heeled his horse back down the alley from whence they came.

She silently waited her turn to be pulled from the prison cart and made no fuss as they steered her off through a doorway far too short for her liking. Didn't take long for the orcs and humans to be stripped of their belongings - they hadn't much at all to call their own. Melfa, on the other hand, was decked in layers of leather and metal armor, previously strapped to the gills with blades, and carried her every belonging with her. Not that she had things in excess, but it took them far longer than they might've liked.

"Where'd you get this?" one man held up a leather pouch, "Toadstool's illegal down here."
The komodo blinked from her hunched position, horns scraping along the wooden rafters of the ceiling, "From wishes."
"From what?"
"Melfa get from wishes."
"Don't talk to the thing, they're kind're diseased knobs."
"Not nobb, fungus," Melfa pointed a clawed finger at the satchel.
"You're the knob."
"Melfa is Komodo," she said matter-of-factly.
The man scrunched up his face, "I know what you ar- skrrr-stop talking!"

Welp.

 

[Jeriah Thackett]

"Won't bring me an answer, but will make the wait tolerable."

It would have been sensible to wait until he could light his pipe by a good fire in a tavern. However, whilst the prisoner carriage was allowed straight through, the other caravans and visitors had formed a queue at the gate. City walls were as much to funnel traffic through control points as they were for defence against attack. Good were inspected and tariffs charged at the four main gates.

"I promise to drink at a reasonable pace. If the planning gets finished before the second bottle hits the table then so be it."

As they joined the line of caravans in front of the gates he awkwardly line his pipe using the contents of his tinderbox. The first puff from the aromatic leaves certainly seemed to take the edge of the embarrassment of another spectacular mess.

---

"Right, we have food," an arm swept across the steaming bowls of broth and chunks of buttered bread. The big cauldron of strew was still over the fire that took up a corner of the inn. There was a quiet hubbub inside and no sign of any guards.

"We have one bottle of wine," he nodded at the uncorked bottle in the middle of a circle of wooden cups.

"And no plan. Ideas, contacts who might be able to help, stories about how much we enjoyed Stratham's great company before he has his head removed from his shoulders in two days. In that order please."

 

[Caddell]

Where in the name of the gods was Caddell at now? He had been following a stray spirit for some time that had said something about treasure and truths laid in wait for him. The spirit wasn't malicious, at least he didn't get that feeling from it, but it seemed the thing was trickster. Great. For a few days he had followed it along some unknown path through wood and stream and field. Eventually it brought him to a town. At the town it disappeared.

A town? Really? Caddell wanted to sigh but didn't. Of course the thing brought him to a town. It wanted him out of its home and it hadn't technically lied. Towns certainly did have treasures and truths within them. They both knew what had been implied however was the deception. As disappointing as that was at least he wasn't left lost in these foreign lands. Spirits were everywhere in the world but not everywhere was as populated with them as the Storm Isles. Made it hard to find help or a guide when he got lost.

Walking down the streets, Caddell eventually found himself before an interesting scene. A group of armed individuals with a mobile prison with prisoners parked in an alley. It made him wonder what those being stripped could have done. Was an obvious bias going on. Orcs and forest people. Did they do anything wrong or was it just an assumption? An all too common of a sight in most places. Should he do something about it or ignore it and go on?

Caddell knew the answer. Of course he was going to do something. Worst case scenario he just couldn't return to some random town a random spirit had lead him to as a trick to get him away from its home. So he wandered on over wearing his traveling clothes with his sword on his hip. As he approached he said in a curious and friendly tone, "So what did they do?"

Melfa Jeriah Thackett William de Courcey

 

[William de Courcey]

The wine was passable. The food was warm. The inn was guard free. You had to learn to enjoy the little things in life or otherwise you'd have nothing. Jeriah seemed to think that they'd had enough time to fill their bellies before getting down to business. William stared at his cup before looking up. "S'all a bit fucked" he declared. "The best time was on the road. How in the name of the gods are we meant to get him out of there?"

He leaned forward and dipped a piece of bread into the bowl to mop up the last of his broth. "I mean, I know I can get in there" he said, as if the question wasn't in doubt. "But how in the bloody hell's Stratham supposed to folly me on out? We don't even know which part of the gaol they'll dump the fecker in".

He took a sip of wine as if hoping it would impart some wisdom. "Getting inside for a looksee would be a start"

 

[Hera]

Hera had been strangely absent from events. It had been her vision that had given them the move date for Jimmy. Now that that had fallen through, one might have expected her to have popped up besides them on the street.

That clearly hadn't happened.

One might also know that staying in the same place for a long enough time was enough for her to find them, especially if she was close to the individual. Still, her arrival to the inn was delayed--- their food well and served by the time the door swung open and her head could be seen bobbing over.

She sat down besides them, breathless and frazzled, but otherwise acting as if nothing was out of sorts as she wordlessly reached for a drink of Jeriah's wine.

 

[Jeriah Thackett]

Jeriah raised an enquiring eyebrow at Hera, continuing to sup on his pipe. She looked as if she had been in a foot race to get here, but hadn't said a word. Without looking away he spoke to William.

"Do remember your words man, it's follow. You do raise a good point though."

Jeriah turned back towards William, tapping out the remains of his pipe so he could enjoy his meal and wine.

"I know someone who probably knows a guard who wouldn't mind a few coins for such basic information. What would be Stratham's most obvious features? I'd normally say 'being a half-orc' but he just went in with a bunch of orcs and humans and your average guard doesn't look that closely."

 

[William de Courcey]

"You do the talking, I do the walking" William shot back. They all had their skills. Jeriah would pass himself off as a dozen different individuals for jobs. Sometimes it even worked. And he was annoyingly well spoken for a man who was just a thief at the end of the day.

Hera sat down but silent. William didn't interrupt. It was best not to if she went off into a thoughtful trance or reverie. She could see. It didn't always work but it had gotten them out of rough spots before. He studied his cup while thinking.

"Not exactly a winning conversationalist but I can't imagine he went in there easy. He's probably known to the guards already for fighting. Can you picture him meekly doing as he's told?". Truth be told the half orc always made him feel wary but there were times in your life when it helped to have someone capable of extreme homicidal violence.

 

[Asemir]

"Who the fuck are you? Get out of here-" Caddell found himself being shoved back down the entry alley by the two posted Guards, "if you're not a Guard you don't belong back here, now sod off!"

Back inside the prison Melfa found herself directed rather rudely into a large holding cell with naught but the bottom layers of her own clothing left to her figure. Komodi weren't known for their dignity, but their bodies were also 100% covered in scales so there wasn't really much to see when they chose to travel au naturale. Melfa, however, was feeling a bit more naked than usual with the exposure of her healing scale rot on her upper arms and shoulders.

It stung against the heady, cool air of the prison. She frowned, cringing as the gate slammed shut behind her.

Chains clinked at her wrists and ankles, her tail had been bagged and bound to her waist - an uncomfortable means of keeping what amounted to a spiked bludgeon under control.

Melfa flicked her tongue, slit pupils widening within a smoldering yellow gaze as she watched the Guards head off down the hall. The beastly woman gave a deep sigh then turned to find every bench in the cell occupied.

"Orc-man move," said the Komodo.
The largest of the group looked up through a glower, "No."
"Now," said the Komodo.
"Make me, beshta-" replied the orc (Stratham).

Thus began a ruckus in the holding cell.

 

[Hera]

Nah. No visions. Well. Besides the one that told her acting like she was having one would get them off her back for the date change.

So maybe a vision?

Regardless. She reached for their food, mulling over events and glancing backwards over her shoulder as a man in a red flannel had a particularly salacious thought about Jeriah's chest muscles.

Her lips twitched.

She turned back to the men, eating a piece of bread in slow, tiny bites.

"He's going to get himself killed in there," she commented, not the planner of the group. Clearly.

 

[Jeriah Thackett]

The man with the salacious thoughts hadn't hidden his glances all that well. However, they were in a pinch and it was business before pleasure tonight for Jeriah.

"That is almost certainly inevitable. If he doesn't pick a fight he can't win then he will be dangling from the gallows soon enough."

William didn't have to use long words, just the correct ones. The man was beyond help at this point. As, probably, Stratham was.

"We find out where he is then we need some muscle. Can't break him out, but might be able to get some thugs to block a road on the way to the gallows?"

 

[William de Courcey]

"And water is wet" William pronounced. "The worry is whether he's killed sooner or later". Hera's prediction was the most accurate one all of them had had today. Stratham avoiding trouble was impossible. It was like asking a fish not to swim.

"The only problem with that is there'll be guards. And crowds. Nothing draws people more than a public hanging. They love watching a gallows jig". It was a welcome distraction from their own miserable lives. "It'll need more than a few thugs. Something spectacular, something that will send people running. If it comes to us baring blades against the guards, then we're fucked"

 

[Hera]

That was the thing-- it wasn't a prediction, just a damn fact.

She rubbed at her face, a migraine seeping in. "Well maybe we're looking at it all wrong." Jeriah's wine cup was then confiscated, downed whole as she tried to clear her thoughts. Too much buzzing. Too much noise.

"If everyone could just shut up," she snapped. And then she froze, realizing she had said that with her lips and not her mind. She uncoiled and huffed, rubbing her temples.

"Maybe we shouldn't be looking at this at all. Maybe we should be doing. Like he will be. Like his is. Chaos on the inside, not outside. Everything we need is already there, why gather it, why gather-- doesn't make any sense. We could make it make sense," she told them firmly, a bit too gone tonight it would seem. It happened if she lingered in her skills too long.

 

[Jeriah Thackett]

William had a point. He didn't know if a crowd would line the streets all the way from the prison. Could turn nasty. He gave Hera a dirty look for taking his mug of wine. Oddly she seemed to have something of a point too.

"Its not a big area for common folk. People come, they get sentenced, they go. Most of them with less fingers - or heads - than they arrived with. Town can't afford that many guards. One wing of the fort will be where they keep the long term prisoners. Only nobles and members of the clergy'll be kept for any length of time. In great comfort too, I wager. Their own rooms and servants with them...hmm..."

"The town can't afford many standing guards. Could cause a fire to draw most of them out and hit the place. No, last time we tried that we ended up burning an entire block down."

It might have surprised the others than his conscience wouldn't let him burn a whole street of peasants to death to rescue one of their crew.

"We could talk our way in if we know the names of any of their well-to-do prisoners. Get into the wing of rich cunts." His tone betrayed his disdain for the upper classes. "Remember when we used that alchemist stuff to melt those keys. Would probably do the same for prison bars..."

A whole string of thoughts was flying through his head but they weren't coming together to form a coherent plan yet. He took a spare mug and poured himself a new glass. Maybe it would contain the inspiration to glue the thoughts together.

 

[Caddell]

The sudden shoving was a little unexpected even if the aggressive words were not. Caddell found himself backing up. He could deal with common guards, probably, fairly easily. But what had they done to him other than get a little handsy without an invitation? They also had a point. He wasn't a guard and in a place some random guy off the street doesn't belong. So time to accept his status of being in the wrong and making it worse to find out what was going on in the prison.

Backing up Caddell just kept up the friendly smile. His hands raised in the air he said, "Sorry to intrude. I will just take my leave." With that he spun around on his heels and began to walk away.

Stopping not far away, Caddell began to formulate a plan on how he could get into the prison. Fighting his way in was an option but absolutely the worst idea. Why would he do that just to satisfy his curiosity? He was no monster or dark art user. Also it would just cause more problems than it would solve by alerting the entire guard force in the area. That would just end in his death. He didn't want to go through that again so soon. So what options did he have?

Finding an abandoned spot, Caddell began to go through his reagents. A pouch of powdered bonemeal. A handful of salt. A pouch of dried flower petals. A pouch full of uncooked grains and seeds. A couple of candles made from bee wax and suet. A couple of bird feathers. Then his three spell chips. It was all mundane stuff and could all be used in a variety of spells. None of them helpful here. Well none but the chips as they were just blank slates. He hated the idea of using them though as they were so time consuming to make and required his own blood as a material in them.

With a sigh Caddell gave up on finding another solution. Time for him to just give up on conserving his chips. Making his way back, he etched the rune for mist and darkness onto it. Placing it into his mouth he channeled a bit of energy into it. The chip was consumed and he found himself vanished from the world. Invisibility. With as much caution and limiting the noise made as possible, he tried to get around the guards to enter into the prison.

Melfa William de Courcey Hera Jeriah Thackett

 

[Asemir]

Close quarters with a brute the size of Melfa wasn't ideal for anyone. There weren't many places to go to get out of the way and, hunched over as she was, there wasn't a lot of room for her to really move around. This didn't stop the komodo from exacting her will upon the smaller half-orc, and she did so with two others hanging off her back.

Chains clinking, the noise of the fight echoed down the halls. Wasn't long before the guards showed back up brandishing batons and heaving open the cell gate to pull the quarreling inmates apart.

Melfa had a bloody nose but it was difficult to say if it was her blood or Stratham's given the amount of his currently coating her face and lips like a whore's smeared lipstick. She staggered backwards off the man at the hands of the intervening guards, swallowing what appeared to be a large chunk of flesh she'd ripped from his neck.

"YOU CRAZY BESHTA!"

"HAAAAAAA-" she hissed a laugh in return.

"MUZZLE THAT DOG-" Stratham yelled after her as they dragged her bodily from the cell and further into the prison complex.


The guards outside did not notice the magically invisible man.

 

[William de Courcey]

"I'm sure he's making himself known right now" William observed, unaware of how accurate he was. The rest of them seemed touchy but none of them were on top form after losing a member of the crew. It was too grim a reminder of how close they themselves could come to the hangman's noose.

"You could talk your way in probably. We don't need something elegant, we need something fast. Less than two days before we're raising mugs in his memory". Maybe not fond ones but they'd remember him all the same.

"Unless you want to set the prison on fire too while you're inside? You and Hera talk yer way in. We set off something. Make our way out via the roof. I could have ropes ready"

 

[Hera]

"Maybe," Hera mused, settling down into the booth and laying her head against Jeriah's shoulder. She had long since stopped trying to make sense of the muddled paths they could take. Sometimes trying just made it all worse.

No, best to let this one breathe for a moment.

"Could also ride a unicorn in and turn everyone to rats." She closed her eyes, letting out a deep breath. "Or eat some pickles. Breathe in their face."

 

[Jeriah Thackett]

"Wait, fire inside isn't actually a bad idea. It's got enough space around it that it shouldn't burn down anything else."

Jeriah looked vacantly into the distance. He did this often when convincing himself of the merits of a plan.

"I pretend to be from some religion or other. I'm visiting one of the nobles they're holding long term to try and convert them. Happens all the time. They get out, they pay money to their chosen religion to expunge their sins. That kind of deal. If I set a fire in the wing for rich bastards, the guards will come running to put it out..."

 

[Asemir]

Melfa's cackling continued up until the point a leather muzzle was pressed over her face, then things took a turn for the insulting.

"Forgot how rabid your kind are," the Captain had arrived following the kerfluffle in the cell, "yeh can just keep those teeth and your venom to yourself."

The komodo's eyes narrowed, but it wasn't for offense. Grey-scaled cheeks pressed upwards into a vehement sneer. Melfa warbled something behind her mask, but no one could understand her anyway and no one was going to try.

"Right," said the Captain as he directed his men to place her on her own in a much smaller cell, "you'll be the first to go, morn'. Think we'll find a big axe for that thick neck of yers. Herd you scalies can survive a hangin' from a friend of mine in Aliria. We won't be taking any chances."

Melfa didn't know if that was true or not, but she'd wager her chances of surviving a hanging versus a beheading were likely a bit higher. She watched them in silence as they left, then turned to find a cell bereft of any bench at all. With a grumble and the clinking of her chains, Melfa settled down on the floor and counted herself lucky that the summer heat permeated every nook and cranny of this place.

 

[Caddell]

The invisibility trick worked. Wonderful! Caddell just wandered into the prison trying to keep as silent and staying out of the way as much as possible. The quiet part was proving easy, but the staying out of the way part wasn't. A commotion had happened inside of the place and it had guards running about like beetles after lifting up a rock. He had gotten bumped into a few times and just hoped they didn't notice in their haste.

At the center of the storm Caddell found the guard captain speaking with a large scaly person with horns. This peaked his interest. What was this person exactly? The Storm Isles had plenty of beast folk that lived there but this was his first time seeing someone with scales. He really wanted to speak with the person to find out, but had to keep quiet. Sadly they had muzzled Melfa and so he wouldn't get his chance. This might call for a bit of theft.

Like the spirits all around, Caddell just watched silently unseen. What he watched for was the key to the muzzle and for the situation to get improve. Too many around might hinder his plan.... Or it could make it better. He had an idea for taking advantage of some confusion.

Finding a rock or discarded piece of bone after a meal or even scrap junk that was laying around, Caddell would pick it up off the floor and make sure to wrap his fingers fully around it. It was the only way for his spell to hide it as it did him right now. He made sure to sneak up behind the person with the key then blew a constant low breath of air at their ear or hair. The moment the reacted to it he would toss the object in his hand in a direction they weren't looking and hope it got anyone near by looking. When they did he would go to grab the key and wrap his fingers fully around it to hide it.

Caddell was attempting to become a ghost or pretend to be one. A little theatrical about it as well, but if he couldn't find a little enjoyment in the act then what was the point? Hopefully it went as well as he hoped it would.

 

[Hera]

Not being addressed as Hera was, her heavy eyelids began to flicker closed. Her temple thudded hard against her skull. Or was that her vein playing drums in her head... thoughts were no longer coherent, voices swirling, images melding-- she groaned to herself and pressed her face harder into Jeriah's shoulder, squeezing her eyes hard.

"Please stop thinking, it doesn't suit you." She rolled her head off his shoulder and let it jerk before catching it. Once more his wine cup was confiscated, but it did leave his original one open to reclaiming.

 

[William de Courcey]

"So the fire's lit, we break down the cell entrance, and haul our half-orc out of there?" the latter stage of the plan seemed hazy on details but that was nothing new for them. Plans never went off like they should. Improvisation was key to half their achievements. They'd all have been dancing the hempen jig without a flair for it. Hera getting visions of them dangling from a noose wouldn't do much for their optimism.

"We're going to need fast horses or a place to hide. No point in giving him freedom for ten minutes and then all of us being tossed in a cell"