pyroage

The bear man rushes Angron in a flash of gild and punches him in the stomach. (8 damage) Flowing like elvish whiskey he assumes a fighting stance... Veldyn's chains pop as Mila pulls with her. Quirie feels only a harsh searing from her chains when she pulls out the magic. She sees they glow purple when her eyes shock open.

The 8 foot elven gilded creatures twitches when you yank your chain. It is not a reassuring sight just this close...

Clank.

Beau finds... nothing happens. His chains glow for a moment.

Beau takes cover behind the giant only to find his chain yanks him short. The sliver strikes though; the priestess screams horribly but elvishly. Reality is set afray - Angron acts yet again, finding himself in reach of the giant when before he was bound at the centre of the cave. The giant bearish creature completely ignores him though. pulling the hooks of his own chain straight from the wall with a roar. Quirie strikes the Drow only to find they don't fly back; her chain simply tugs free from the wall like paper. Veldyn finds her cuffs persistently real, meant for gnomes; nothing she can do about it, sore as they are. Reality shocks into place the second Mila's cuffs hit the ground. The two drow accompanying the priestess blink in the dust, holding their ears as the woman hits a high note and the broken bottle secreted by Angron cracks. "What? You did this!?" The priestess cries "No! No! By Lolth it was something else!" She looks frightfully around. "Leave! Follow me!" The trio immediately turn their backs and disappear from your sight. A light shines from the darkness behind them, lit on them as they leave the cave mouth - a watchtower up above, where some kind of luminous squidish thing angles a bulb on it's tail like a scorpion, a Drow with a bow harshly lit behind it and sharply cutting to black for the rest of the lookout. The 'bear' swings his head and twists his shoulders to and fro, disoriented.

Stor breaks his thumbs and slips his manacles. So does Angron. Fighting the pain, he nearly throttles himself attempting to kick free his neck chain, but the rusty thing groans audibly as he falls to the ground. (3 damage). At the mention of Lolth, the priestess begins to blink and closes her mouth. She holds her head swaying and swinging around as she makes chattering noises and reality thickens. One of the prisoners, a small grey dwarf stands and says "Don't waste this chance heroes! Perhaps we can escape!" Your sense is still shouting, and you think you have but 30 seconds to break the connection and be sure of your place in the world...

👍

Names on standing stones, disconnected heroes of the province meet at tavern for first time to discuss it.

No and no, Paul B. Also - you are united in your ignorance of the Underdark with the party. Figure it out. That was what you guys attempted (to a realistic degree), because I clearly mentioned them and did not say they left. "Accounting for PBP" is how I'm dealing with this. You know, one person starts talking and then another starts talking and then someone looks away and bam, conversation carried away. And yet, the mistake is still the mistake.

The great beast of a being only begins straining at his chains - with some success - and says what she suspects is "Help me!" in Elvish. Time distorts as the tall lanky man scrabbling for a rock - with success, sharp - talks, and somehow no one interrupts as he speaks a whole verse. (It is a Free action, and you may take an additional - physical - action this turn.) You all sense you have less then a minute before you'll end up somewhere worse...

First you shall meet, with our honourable trust. Then, the people dare speak, with need ill forgot...

"I know this place better then I would like, Soldier." The speaker is curled up at the back of the cave, but rises and keeps Rising as other prisoners scrabble away as best they can, causing a stir as the 8 foot, bear-like and elvishly dressed - elvishly speaking - in gold trim creature finally stands to it's full height. All subtlety is lost. The three Drow turn from their huddled conversation. "Who said you can talk? ENOUGH, Jester!" The priestess stares at the green-furred bear man until he sits down after a few moments. Then she grins. "Our ears are very sharp, fools..." "Velkynvelve is very dark and blunt. Like this priestess tool." Reality begins to shift. "Truthfully, you heroes are too powerful to be so foolish. SO obvious. I could use such easy tools..." says the priestess with a voice like snakes fucking. With a sinking feeling, you all remember the rejects to the kingdoms gathering of heroes. The "Serpent Kings" pack of thieves in just the right place to look heroic for a moment, and never after... used to the bowels of the city, roots in the dark they said... Perhaps, you are all a little more valuable then you might think... Scavenge Angron has but a gold coin. Quirie has a six foot strand of silken rope tucked away in her skirts.

I don't mind which version Paul.

Locked in a dark cave, surrounded by other prisoners, here you are. Cold metal heavy on your throat and wrists. A most irritating captor weighing on your mind, a cruel drow - a elf of the dark - priestess, quick to use the scourge and making a example of the strong. She comes now - flanked by two men of the same kind as her, one with a mess of scars along his face and neck. Scourge in hand, she marches along the gate. "Accept your fate, learn to obey, and you may survive." Your eyes flicker to the strongest you've seen amongst you. You hope they may surprise you. You have been here but a day - Roll a d20 for what you may have scavenged, wherever you've hidden it...

Al Nahr lashes through chitin, leaving a very bloody glowing beetle, the blood somewhat orange.