AshDrunbar Character Creation

And his reply...

You easily take him by surprise and slam him up against the bars. Now, unlike Guile, there is not an Intimidate skill. It is a combination of your Daimon PV check, roleplay, and how much of a threat you pose in general.

While your threatening stance gives him a moment of pause, he chuckles and relaxes in your grip. "Bit of a spark, I like that. But you've got a lot to learn when it comes to threatening hardened convicts. With the threat of death on the line, you really think anything less is going to matter? Put down the bit o' shine. It'll do you more harm than good."

He is now rolling Guile, which you must counter with your own, to keep him from getting the upper hand.

Rolling Guile:
3 + 6 + 2 + 1 (skill) = 12

So...close...

The rules as written are "If an enemy is opposing your Skill Check, you must roll higher than them as well as beating the difficulty." Because this is technically HIS roll that YOU are opposing, he fails. He did not roll higher than you.

How we'll interpret this "practically a tie" result is that you find his words rather convincing. He makes some very good points, but for a few complications. A) He's behind bars, B) You're not, C) You have a knife up to his eye socket, and D) You're not exactly willing to give up that position just because he's good with words. Interpret that how you will for your response, but there is no mechanical effect against you.

The Felbreed prisoner relents, "Alright, alright, you've made your point! Gods, you have a way with violence. If it's something interesting you want, I suppose that depends on your definition. The bloke on the left of your cell, my left, is a more capable fighter than myself. Heard he got hauled in here for a few brawls, and more wins than losses."

The big guy, who you haven't gotten a chance to see before now, snorts from behind you, "No losses, lest you count getting tossed in here like spoiled fish. For what it's worth."

The Felbreed smirks at this retort and continues, "And if you direct your attention to my right, you'll find a much more interesting candidate. Old crone is said to have been hauled in on witchcraft charges, some twenty or thirty years ago. Hard to believe she's survived that long in these conditions, hate to think of how..."

The old woman does not answer, but you hear her sniffle and move around a little in her cell, as if she heard you two talking about her.

"And then there's me," he finishes, "the one with the knowhow to get us both out of here. Provided you can keep us alive, which I still doubt. What'll it be?"

He wrings his wrist as you release it, glowering darkly, "You'd be surprised what I'm capable of. More to the point, it's not that I think you can't release every mook in this lockup. I don't think you should want to. How large a group d'you think those winning charms will keep in line? Maybe someone decides they want to be in charge instead, makes an example of you." He nods, indicating the old woman. "Could be the person you least expect."

Your first time really getting a look at the man. He's easily three of you, his legs bigger around at mid-thigh than your waist. He's about 5'11'' at the shortest, and it looks like he's hunched over. Not a scrap of fat on the big fucker. You're used to a lot of fair-skinned, fair-haired boys back in Cerbesia, most of 'em scrawny and light of wits. This man looks like he'd eat a whole wagon of them for a light snack, and have room for dessert. He has a mess of coarse, dark hair; some of it in braids, but everything's all pulled back in a sloppy band of cloth to keep it under control. When you come over to his cell, he directs his gaze upon you, but his eyes don't seem right. There's rings of red and black around the lids, the skin scarred by blistering and peeling. What should be white is yellow, what should be brown is black in places, and what should be black is blue -- like water after you've made corn for supper. He's not so much looking at you, as in your vague direction, out of focus.

"What you care, what I want?"

He holds that pose for a while, and when silence lingers, his eyes wander. His jawline's consumed in scraggly hair out to his collarbones, and it doesn't look like it's gotten a tending in months. Strange, you don't remember the last male inmate having to deal with his facial hair.

"Aye, I want out. But what's a gel like you aim to do abou' it?" he admits, with a voice like tamed thunder.

The big guy grunts and moves away from the bars. When you rap on the bars of the other cell, the old lady looks up at you. Stringy bangs cover most of her face, but you can make out fuchsia eyes and the tip of a crooked nose. She grins, baring yellowed teeth. "Should I be flattered you came to see me last, dearie? What can Granny do for you, today?"

"I can hear you," the Felbreed says from his cell, tone half-mocking and half-offended.

The old woman studies you closely from behind her stringy hair, still not approaching the bars. "You have many questions for someone you don't find trustworthy. Yet you are so eager to ask! How...curious. Why do you think I have magical powers, dearie?"

Checking these locks...

The big lock on the one guy's cell would be pretty difficult to mess with, unless you were prepared to pick it correctly. The Felbreed's lock is not as hard, but you'd still need the right bashing implement and it would make noise. As you examine the other cells for a lockpick, you notice a fifth inmate who hadn't joined the conversation. Can't get a good angle til you're done talking to the old woman, but there's definitely somebody in the cell across from big man.

The old woman bobs her head like a bird, as she listens to you speak. When you are entirely done, she says, "Is he your friend then, dearie? Lots of good reasons to trust the lad? If you're not sure who to trust, I wouldn't recommend starting there. Specially when he makes such an outlandish claim about some poor old bird locked up on this rock. Now, while I don't take kindly to bein' told I should be dead, I suppose you're not far off the truth." When she hears you mention a magical lock, she looks at the bars and seems to lose interest in talking to you. "Hmm," she mutters, "now how about that..."