Chapter 2 - The Fortress

As the caravan clatters down the trail the hobgoblin guards that now flank the caravan joke loudly in goblin. At least, you assume they are from the way the keep laughing about something. The rest of the way, other than this guard switch, was fairly uneventful.

Soon, after making the trek the rest of the way around the large mountain that dominates much of this island, you see the trail leads to a long bridge to a very large and foreboding looking fortress. bugbears, hobgoblins, and a few orcs stand sentinel on the bridge and in the guard towers watching the front wall. As you near the gates there is more goblin chatter from the guards here and the guards from the caravan. Soon there is the large thudding of giant chain links winding as the massive doors into the fortress rise up and the carts are led into the main courtyard and off to some stables on the west wall.

GM. For navigational purposes the wall with the main entrance will be considered south.

The goblins take the first covered wagon off to another location, but the one your party is in is brought into the stable with the other carts and the door is closed and locked behind you. There is on covered wagon left in here, and the two wagons loaded with supplies. Aelar's troupe is in here somewhere, it's time to bust them out.

As you search a round you find gaps enough in the wooden construction of this stables area to be able to see out. You see all manner of creature out and about doing various tasks. Just generally milling about in the courtyard outside. In the carts it seems most of the supplies are basic short swords, battered shields, salt beef and other rations. There is some leather hides and torches as well.

Inside the stables with you now are the two wagons and one covered wagon. The covered wagon isn't like one you are used to seeing. Instead of treated canvas covering it in a big arch, it seems more to have a large wood box covering it. The back is locked with a large iron lock, and on the sides are small slits in the wood. Even with dark vision the angle of these slots makes it hard to actually see in to the wagon.

GM. I'm going to go ahead and say that the trip in was a long rest worth of time. So everyone is full up on their stuff.

After a few minutes it seems like the lock may be too much for you to work out. Given another minute however you are able to pop the lock and remove it.

Given the situation I would say you have a chance to try at it a few times so the extra roll did it. It was a hard (DC 20) lock to pick. You just barely got it on the second try.

[handing note to Aelar]

Utes initial glance at the people turns up about what any of you may be thinking. These people don't look very well equipped to handle themselves.

As Aelar draws his dagger the people wince back instinctively, but calm as he speaks. The first to be unbound grabs his sore and worn wrists where the restraints were. He is an older looking gentleman, and thanks you profusely, though he seems unsure of what to do now.

As you release more there seems to be about 15 people that were crammed in the space to maybe seat 8 comfortably. 12 uncomfortably. They seem to be various races, ages, but as you question them all one thing becomes apparent. They are all bards of different merit. Though not in the same respect as Aelar, these musicians seem to have come from all over Faerun. Some had only been in this caravan for a few days, some have been captured for months.

As you listen to the stories of the people, giving what rations you can to those who seem the most hungry, you start to hear a remarkably similar story. One that you yourselves know a little too well. A strange caravan would come into town and a few robed people would take up residence in the local tavern. Usually about a night later there would be a strange event. Out of nowhere people would suddenly start attacking and killing local patrons in the tavern. A few of the hostages said they had seen these individuals ingesting some sort of strange dark liquid.

These stories always seem to end the same. These bards, minstrels, and singers would flee for their lives and be captured as they fled. They would be taken and tossed into one of these carts and hauled off as the tavern became a scene of horror and slaughter. No one would even notice their disappearance because there were so many bodies found, most were just assumed dead.

Some, who had been on this caravan the longest said these were the lucky ones, that got captured. Sometimes the tavern massacres resulted in no remaining life to steal. At that point the caravan just moved on to the next town.

A woman steps forward up to Ütés. You can see in her face she was probably an extremely beautiful singer. However, her features are sunken from malnutrition. She is covered in dirt and filth. Her frame is bent and sickly looking. Her hair is matted with, who knows what. She speaks and her voice comes out weak and it wavers as she speaks, holding back tears.

I...I may be one of the earliest. What the others say is true. I've lost track of the time we spent in there. I could only try my best to count the days as the light that seeped into the slits on the side. They took me and have had me bound in there since. I can't remember how many times we had stopped, we had more, but some died along the way. It would sometimes be a day or two before the smell made them realize someone inside had died, even then they may not remove them right away, she stops abruptly, no longer able to restrain herself and starts crying. One of the other women comes to comfort her and takes up the story.

We've only been given enough food to not die...for the most part. The robed people, the ones who had that black stuff the people drank. They left the caravan just before we departed by boat to this place. There were more humans before then. On the boat the goblins took over driving the carts. We could hear much of the talking before, we simply could do nothing about it. In one town there was once a man that opened the back of the cart. He was trying to help us I think..., she stops and looks down at the ground for a moment, They slit his throat, and we all had to watch as he died. They there his body in with us until we were out of town.

As you hear more the stories are all equally grim and disturbing. Torture, abuse, and the women on this caravan were often taken advantage of during the trip. It was all most of these people could do just to live to this point. Though many had at points wished for death.

Also if I haven't already said it, or if people have used the last one, you all have an inspiration point. Fantastic RP.