Who, Are, You?

Levinath

0
If it works, I can break it.

Who, Are, You?

« on: January 01, 2018, 02:59:08 PM »

Two furry hands dug into his underarms as they carried Zimran nearly a foot off the ground. Though the sack offered little visibility, he was able to differentiate the transition from outside into a cavern of some form. After a time being carried through darkness, the flicker of torchlight became apparent and he was unceremoniously dropped, though the bard was able to catch his footing. A soft and elegant voice carried from a distance away.

“Hmmmm, what do we have here?” A moment of silence passed followed by some murmuring. “I see.” Was the only comment that followed for a beat.

“Please remove our guest’s bindings, how completely uncivilized of you all.” The voice spoke again, the bag was lifted from Zimran’s head and the room came into focus. The beings standing around the bard were not what caught his eye first. A massive, twenty foot tall dwarf statue crafted expertly stood before him, with massive emerald eyes. The Dwarf held a mining pick in one hand and a massive shield in the other, he seemed to stare down on the group before him. As Zimran continued to survey the area, he found himself in a massive stone worked cavern with four great pillars holding up the ceiling. Between the ten foot wide pillars lay a table covered with documents and two elves staring at the half elf. They were an unusual pair, he noted. One, was dark black skin, almost the color of pure darkness, his white teeth shown through a smile. He walked with a staff that held the visage of a spider with outstretched legs atop. The other was nearly bone white, more fair, and more the tones of the bard's mother’s late visage. The bindings holding his wrists were cut and the two bugbears that had carried him in, were promptly dismissed. They lumbered away without a further word.

“I am so very sorry for the way you have been handled.” He looked towards the bugbears.

“You know, sometimes my supplicants can become…overzealous. Can I offer you some of the finest northern red I have ever had the pleasure of drinking?” Without waiting for a reply, the drow nodded to the other elf who quickly moved out of sight behind a pillar and returned with two goblets half full of a dark red liquid. He handed one to the drow before providing the remaining one to Zimram. He took a drink and closed his eyes as he let out a sound of pleasure.

“The undertones of oak and sapwillow just dance across your tongue like two lovers intertwined.” The red eyes reopened and focused on the bard again.

“Is he one of yours?” Nezzanar asked the other elf who shook his head slowly. “Interesting.” He mumbled before opening the scroll Zimran was set to deliver to the Rockseekers. His eyes skimmed the paper and a smirk grew across Nezzenar’s visage.

“Oh, I must apologize, allow me to introduce myself. I am Nezzenar Dinifar of Menzoberranzan. I don’t believe I was told your name. What would a Harper being doing in these parts? I am only searching to recovery what was lost so many years ago, surely that would be of no interest to a group such as them, and as I understood, there was already an Elf in Phandalin with the Harpers.”

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Zimran Ibanez

Re: Who, Are, You?

« Reply #1 on: January 01, 2018, 03:57:48 PM »

Zimran remained silent after the sack that had been placed over his head had been removed. With his bindings cut, the half-elf rolled and massaged his wrists. The minor abrasions would heal in time, nothing to be too worried about. For now the bard had bigger concerns.

Keeping up with appearances, Zimran nodded graciously to the other elf as he took the offered goblet of wine. The bard sniffed at the wine. It certainly smelled better than the bugbear who's shoulder Zimran had been draped over. The half-elf briefly wondered whether the drink was poisoned, but then figured there were more effective ways to kill a prisoner. Besides, as far as last drinks go, Zimran could do worse than a fine wine. Parched as he was, the bard took a hearty sip, his thirst betraying his own manners.

Then of course came the questions.

"Mmmm... A fine wine indeed. You have my thanks," the bard started before setting the goblet down next to himself, "You'll have to forgive me of course. I am merely a messenger."

Honesty, for now seemed the correct course of action. Well at least as honest as he needed to be. The best lies always start in truth.

"My compatriots did not know the mine was yours, of course. I was sent to make contact with the Rockseeker brothers. Certainly a mine filled with stories of magical wonder would be of interest to many parties," Zimran continued, keeping his voice calm and deferential. "As for the other Harper, I do not know of whom you speak of. We don't all know each other, otherwise there wouldn't be the need for all the secret passwords and handshakes."

Not knowing if the answer to Nezzenar's question was enough, the bard hoped to extend the conversation for a while. "I know I'm in no position to make requests, but if I may inquire as to the status of my yarting? It's on of my instruments, like a lute only with two more strings. It's a fine instrument and I would hate to know that your brutes damaged it. If I should meet my end today, I would hope that my darling Bessie could continue to make fine music without me."

« Last Edit: January 01, 2018, 04:20:49 PM by Zimran Ibanez »

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Levinath

0
If it works, I can break it.

Re: Who, Are, You?

« Reply #2 on: January 01, 2018, 06:46:49 PM »

The drow offered a nod at the bard’s appreciation of such a great vintage. He had been down in this hole too long, with such unrefined brutes The half elf went on and Nezzenar sipped his wine, watching intently. He nodded in agreement in the description of the mines.

“Certainly. Those of stature are often left with those of lesser foresight to do their bidding. As you experienced firsthand, their work is often less than..ideal. Again, my apologies for my messengers.” He nodded to the other Elf and motioned to Zimran’s goods in a pile on a corner table.

“I believe the Harper's name is Garaele, a cleric of Tymora. You should contact her before you depart. I believe she has some information on Bowgentle’s lost spellbook?” He paused and looked to the other elf, who confirmed his description accurately. “Which seems to be of interest to the Harpers.” A frown formed on the drow’s face as he continued.

“However, I am afraid that will need to be at a later time. You see, possession is a fickle thing, as I am sure many of your songs detail. When something is perceived as powerful or valuable by those in station, the price is often paid in the blood of those they command.” The elf appeared from behind Zimran and placed all his belongings at his feet, including his weapon, yarting, and harper pin. All of which he would find in the same condition as when they were confiscated.

“I can allow you deliver your message to the sole remaining Rockseeker if you wish, but I must insist you remain my guest, just as him, until we are done here. We cannot risk revealing this cave until we are prepared to do so, and for that, I must apologize sincerely. I can offer you the comforts of the best inns, and would be pleased to hear your works on Bessie, an instrument with a name must be something to behold.” He paused only long enough to turn back to the elf.

“Please fetch Vyerith.” Again he nodded silently, turned, and walked down the eastern hall.

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Zimran Ibanez

Re: Who, Are, You?

« Reply #3 on: January 01, 2018, 07:46:26 PM »

Again Zimran remained silent while his captor spoke. A smile did cross the half-elf's face when he saw his belongings seemingly untouched on the table, and again when they were placed at his feet. So far this was going much better than the bard expected, yet still he took the opportunity to size up the two elves as best he could.

At the mention of the Harper named Garaele and a lost spellbook Zimran furrowed his brow as if either held any importance to him. However that look soon faded when he learned his imprisonment would last an indeterminate amount of time. That, and the fact that it appears only one of the Rockseeker brothers was still alive. Still his job was to make contact with them...

"I would gladly see to the Rockseeker brother," Zimran said with a slight bow, again remaining gracious. Even with his rapier and crossbows near by the bard knew he was at a loss.

For the time being.

"It will not be the first time I've been held in keep to perform. Though usually it's by older noblewomen while their husbands are away on a hunt," Zimran offered a sly smile and a wink, giving a slight chuckle at his own joke. "I am also no stranger to singing for my supper. Since I am to be your guest it appears, feel free to call on me when you wish for a performance. I can promise you I am far better at music than I am evading capture!"

Again the bard offered a winning smile and a slight bow. He made no move to gather his weapons until it was clear it would not be seen as a threat or provocation. After he watched Nezzenar walk away, Zimran turned to the other elf, "I assume you'll be taking me to see the remaining Rockseeker brother?"

(click to show/hide)

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Levinath

0
If it works, I can break it.

Re: Who, Are, You?

« Reply #4 on: January 01, 2018, 08:12:10 PM »

Nezzenar smiled and shared a chuckle at the bard’s jest. “I assure you nothing of that short will required of you in this mine. Your time here will be short, we are nearly finished with our work.”

The drow moved with a confident elegance as he left the room, making it apparent he saw the bard as no threat to himself or his men. The other elf’s expression was void of emotion, and he also seemed disinterested in any threat Zimran would pose. He only nodded to the bard and motioned for him to follow. They moved around the nearest pillar to a heavy oak door. He pulled it open with a heavy creak as the hinges protested its weight. Zinram moved into a room that had no right to be within such a mine. Against the far wall, an old oak desk sat in front of several bookshelves lined with tomes, mostly ancient, though some were clearly new. A heavy pelt rug ran across a good portion of the floor and was surrounded by several sitting couches. An unconscious dwarf lay on one of them snoring. Along the wall opposite the desk, a small table held some various fruit, cheese, and dried meat alone with cups and pitchers of water and wine. The air smelled of incense and the room was spotless.

The elf looked to the sleeping dwarf then gave Zinram a final glance before closing the door with a thud. Zinram found it curious he did not hear any kind of lock or latch close after the door, but as the door was the only exit to the room, it would likely be guarded even if it remained unlocked. The Dwarf snorted as the door slammed and looked over to the newcomer, though he didn’t speak. His garments were stained and dirty, his hair and beard matted, but overall he looked in good condition so far as the bard could tell. “Wh’r Ye?”

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Zimran Ibanez

Re: Who, Are, You?

« Reply #5 on: January 01, 2018, 08:50:09 PM »

Zimran placed his belongings down near the large table, then reached into his pack to pull out the letter intended for the Rockseekers. The half-elf approached the disheveled dwarf, crouching down next to him.

"My name is Zimran Ibanez. I wish I could say I'm here to rescue you, but it appears I need a bit of rescuing myself," the bard said with a gentle smile. he let the dwarf wipe the sleep from his eyes before handing him the letter. "I assume you're the remaining Rockseeker brother? This is for you."

Zimran gave the dwarf a moment to read the note before speaking again, this time in the dwarvish tongue, "This was supposed to be an offer from the Harpers. Information and protection from the very predicament we're now in. Though it appears I'm a little too late." The half-elf patted dwarf on the shoulder before he continued, "But don't fear, I'll find a way out for us yet."

"If you don't mind my asking, which Rockseeker brother are you?" Zimran asked softly in dwarvish. "And if I may ask, do you know of the fate of your brothers?"

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Levinath

0
If it works, I can break it.

Re: Who, Are, You?

« Reply #6 on: January 01, 2018, 09:48:37 PM »

The dwarf looked at him distrustfully. “O’ sum new form of trick’ry.” He took the missive and read it slowly, then read it again. He seemed confused at first until Zimran began speaking to him in his native tongue. He looked from the note, to the pin, to the half elf.

“I would say so Laddy.” He replied in Dwarvish. “There ain’t no way out. You think I didn’t have the same idea? Nearly made it to the end of that great hall once. Two drow seemed to come out of the very walls and escorted me back in here. That other elf out there used to speak of the same great plans of escape, or how some other fools were to come save us, but no one comes. All we can do is hope we get out alive at the end.”

Zimran asked his name and he seemed to catch himself wallowing in pity. “I am Nundro, youngest of the Rockseeker brothers.” Sadness welled in his face as he continued. “Tharden was….killed by one of those bugbear brutes when they first found us at the entrance to the cavern. If only that idiot hadn’t insisted on fighting them.” He took a big snort of air through his nose before regaining his composure. “Gundren was to meet us on the outskirts of Phandalin and never showed up, I know not his fate. And you? Who are you so brave to come ‘rescue’ me alone?”

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Zimran Ibanez

Re: Who, Are, You?

« Reply #7 on: January 01, 2018, 11:08:38 PM »

Zimran nodded quietly as the youngest of the Rockseeker brothers, Nundro, told his story. Speaking in dwarvish seemed to put Nundro at ease so the half-elf continued to speak the language of stone poets.

"The other elf, you mean the one who brought me here?" Zimran inquired. That elf seemed to be working for entirely for Nezzenar, yet perhaps he too was once a prisoner.

"As for me, well I'm no hero. Just someone who meddles into things he probably shouldn't," Zimran explained as he stood up and looked around the room once more. "I was merely sent to deliver a message to you and your brothers. I had heard of you brother Gundren recruiting people in Neverwinter, while others in the order had heard whispers of the expedition as well. By the time I was sent to to make contact however, Gundren had already left for Phandalin. So no, I'm not here to rescue you, but I plan on saving myself so I may as well bring you with me."

Zimran gave the dwarf a hearty smile then turned his attention to the books, "Have you taken a look at these? Any of them about this strange mine?"

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Levinath

0
If it works, I can break it.

Re: Who, Are, You?

« Reply #8 on: January 02, 2018, 10:50:57 AM »

The dwarf nodded in the affirmative in regards to the other elf. He didn’t know anything of the man, as he never seemed to speak, but it was clear he had been a prisoner when he first came. The dwarf listened to his explanation and let out a snort, or was that a scoff? It was difficult to tell.

The dwarf’s eyes followed the bard’s motion towards the bookshelf. “Aye, a few so far as I can tell. Many appear to have been brought with our ‘host,’ and thus I cannot discern the runes or text. Some of the older ones appear to be from this mine itself, though little of true interest. The big one over there was the accounts ledger, lot o’ good it will do you to know who bought 14 mastercraft swords 500 years past, eh?”

The dwarf chuckled at his own jest and rose, walking over to the table. He surveyed the different types of good and decided on eating a few grapes and a piece of meat before pouring himself a cup of wine. “Dumathoin’s Prick, what I would give for some good dwarven ale. All this place has is water and this swill.” He took a drink seeming to force the liquid down as if it were a foul tonic. ”If you don’t have any other grand plans of escape to discuss, I think I will get back to my nap."

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Zimran Ibanez

Re: Who, Are, You?

« Reply #9 on: January 02, 2018, 11:25:45 AM »

The bard made note of which books Nundro was unable to recognize. Zimran would come back to those books later. As for the wine and food, the half-elf paid little mind to each as well as the dwarf's distaste for wine. Zimran did help himself to some water eventually, but as the dwarf mentioned that he would like to continue his sleep, Zim decided to ask one final question.

"Nundro, do you know how long you've been down here?" he asked in dwarvish. As he awaited the reply, Zimran picked up his yarting, gave it a few quick strums, and checked its tuning.

Once his question had been answered, the bard figured it was time to test the limits of his captivity. Armed with only his rapier at his side and his yarting, Zimran made his way to the door and attempted to open it while leaving the rest of his belongings at the table. Once the door opened (OOC: See spoiler), the bard began to play a little of his yarting

while he wandered the halls wondering where he would be stopped.

(click to show/hide)

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Levinath

0
If it works, I can break it.

Re: Who, Are, You?

« Reply #10 on: January 02, 2018, 12:14:59 PM »

The dwarf shook his head. “Two weeks, perhaps? It is hard to tell down in this place.”

He offered no more and was settled in to sleep again before Zimran closed the door. The large chamber appeared empty to the bard who found his way down the hall Nezzenar had previously exited. The sound of running water echoed ahead as his music flowed down the cave tunnels.

After a quick shift, the tunnel opened into a large cavern. Water flowed from a small hole in the western wall down a twenty food high rock face to a stream further below. He noticed two bugbears at the bottom of the cliff digging in the rubble with little conviction. They turned to him and snarled before returning to their task. Having no way, and perhaps little inclination, to descend to the bottom of the cavern, Zimran moved south across the small stream using several stepping stones. He found it was substantially deeper than he had first anticipated it to be as he crossed.

The only passage opened back to the West, and headed to the entrance of the grand chamber where he had first met Nezenar. He began moving back towards the chamber, the cool cave air began chilling Zimran as he approached a T in the hall. It seemed unusual that he found no one else as he passed through these halls. Taking the fork to the south, the air became colder and the torches further apart. A closed door to the east was heavy and looked imposing so he opted to move to stairs leading down to large pool to the west. A single torch lit this large pool that disappeared into the darkness, the far wall not visible. The music bounced across the chamber and turned his tune into a cacophony of echoing sound.

Bubbles formed across the pool, and the floor rumbled, causing Zimran’s music to pause. Two sets of eyes rose from the rippling pool, their catlike lenses stared at the bard and filled him with dread.

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