How long has it been? Ten days? Two weeks? It's been hard to tell when confined to the tiny 8'x8' cell for so long with "meals", such as they are, only coming at irregular intervals. Originally there were five prisoners jammed into the tiny space, but the other four were taken away within a few days, never to be seen again. Five(?) days ago two badly beaten human merchants were tossed in to keep you company, and just yesterday another man who claims he was a mercenary just passing the area joined you. You're not so sure of his story though as the guards (an ogre and a bugbear) have used his name, "Rolf", on several occasions as if they knew him.

On the odd occasions when the door has been opened and food or new prisoners thrown in, you've seen part of the layout of the guard room. An oversized table and two matching chairs stand in the northeast, along the diagonal wall. A cask and several leather jacks are on the table, amongst small hunks of cheese and dried meat; some food scraps have fallen to the floor. Nearby is a barrel and a huge pot. Brackets and torches line the walls, but only 3 contain torches, none lit. Two bronze-bound oaken doors, one of them yours, each with a heavy bar, padlock, and small barred port, mark the cells, but you suspect there's at least one more cell out of your line of vision based on voices and moans you've heard. (see game map)

You and the other three men don't know much of the layout beyond the guard room - all were brought in either blindfolded or unconscious, stripped of everything beyond the few rags you still wear.

Time drags slowly along in the tiny space. And then there's the sound of a door opening which usually telegraphs the arrival of the slop the gaolers call food, or a new prisoner.

"Watch this one," a human voice you haven't heard before drifts in from the guard room.
"He's some sort of noble, or something. He's important no matter what."
Feet walk away and a door closes.

"Armour off. This time it's the ogre talking.
"Put there." A rattle of metal, probably chain mail, then a thud as it's dropped to the floor.
Keys rattle and are slotted into the keyhole of your door, the port is flung open.
"Ever'one ta tha back."
Without arms or armour it would be suicide to disobey. Satisfied his command has been followed, the ogre opens the door and his bugbear assistant thrust the newcomer inside. The door is almost slammed on his heels...

Before you stands a handsome man with golden hair, clad only in his underclothes. Even so he bears himself with dignity as he waits for his eyes to adjust to the gloom.

Amathaon had been there for a while. Seems they didn't like thieves. Looking at the newcomer, he said, "Look boys we have a new friend. My name is Amathaon Chalkbreaker and you are?"

"I am Thromel, a hostage of sorts, held to ensure the good behaviour of those I was with."
"I presume you are, like myself, all "guests" of the fire temple?"
With a small grimace of distaste at the state of the accommodations, he seated himself amongst you.

"Yeah, that bloody Alremm's got us locked up 'ere. Probably gonna throw us in one of 'is fire pits as a sacrifice or sumthing."

Amathaon nodded and replied, "So Thromel, you say that you were with others. What are these others doing, while you're a guest? I do hate to be nosy, but we get so little news here. You understand." He chuckled at the guest part. Amathaon said, "Well, I don't know if we're guests like you are. As for myself, it seems they don't care for a humble thief."

"Errands for Alremm I believe. Convince a troll chief to join the fire temple, and pressure one of the other temples to make alliance also."
"We don't really know much of current affairs here either as I've apparently been in a magical sleep for years, and they were teleported in from somewhere. Not even the dwarven cleric they've got with them knew how deep we are."

Amathaon perked up when he heard about the dwarven cleric. He said, "Dwarven cleric you say. What's his name? Do you know whereabouts he's from?"

"Arek I believe, but I don't know where he's from. Somewhere to the south I think."
"He's a priest of the dwarven war god, and quiet old. Very wise though."

Hours passed as you got to know each other. Some tried to sleep, others chatted, but all were uncomfortable crammed as you were in the small cell.
Some time later a rattle of keys and squeal of unoiled hinges indicated one of the other cell doors was opened.
"No, NOOOOO! I don't want to DIE!" a woman's voice screamed in terror as they seemed to be dragged from their cell.

Amathaon looked sad. He said, "Well another guest leaves us. I'd look out to see who it is, but I'm rather too short, to look out the window. What shall we do Thrommel? Wait for your friends?"

"Unless the fire temple and it's agents goes back on their word not to hurt either them or myself by action or inaction, I'm afraid I'm honour bound to remain here."

Amathaon thought, wonderful an honor bound paladin. As soon as the guards get far enough away, he would check out the door. Amathaon wanted to test its strength and perhaps how thick it was.

From his days in the cell, Amathaon already knew the door was solid enough to hold an ogre - brute force was not the answer.
Trickery of some sort however....
He also knew that at least one or the other of the two guards (ogre and bugbear) was always in the next room, although not always awake and alert.

Amathaon said, "Thromel, we need to get out of here before they sacrifice us or something. How about you rush the guard the next time he opens the door?"

"I cannot break my oath," he said simply, unconvinced.
"But rest assured that should they violate the bargain, I will not hesitate."

Amathaon uttered a few choice dwarven curse words under his breath, along the lines of stupid paladin. Amathaon reached through the food hatch and will attempt to pick the lock. He had no idea where Thrommel's friends were or if they'd be coming to rescue him anytime soon. So, he determined to give picking the lock his best shot.

Picking his time, and getting a bit of help to lift him high enough, Amathaon poked his arm between the bars in the small observation port and fumbled around for the lock.
Something thumped heavily against the door, thrown from somewhere just out of view.
[Language unknown: "Nd somho si wiven!"]

"Don't think they liked that," Rolf commented helpfully.
"Anyone understand what they said?"

Amathaon took his hand back. He replied, "He said for me to get my hand out of that. Obviously, they are watching the door closely. Put me down for now. Looks like we'll have to come up with another plan, since his highness would rather sit on his duff and wait for his friends than help us escape."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:57, Fri 09 May 2014.

"As I said, I cannot do anything unless they break their word first. Once that occurs however...."
From his tone it seemed as if the prince had little doubt it was only a matter of time before somebody out there did something really stupid.

Only minutes later and the procedure which resulted in Thrommel's arrival is repeated, but this time the newcomer is tossed in semi-conscious.

Rolf caught the man and lowered him to the floor.
"Not a mark on him. Some sort of sleeping poison I'd say, seems to be wearing off now though."

Luthien wakes up...he hadn't even completed training yet, really, and here he was in some sort of prison. No place for a 16 year old, really.

"...How'd I get here? I had a bit of a nightmare last night, but...I'm Luthien. Who are all of you?"

He can tell the prince is a Paladin, being in training to become exactly one of those himself. But he hasn't made it yet.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:28, Mon 12 May 2014.

Amathaon looked at the lad and said, "I am Amathaon Chalkbreaker. I'd say you ran afoul of someone and they had you dumped here. What's the last thing you remember lad, were you in a tavern or something?"