CLOSED/Archived [playtest] {adventure 1}

[ingress]

{Through the Doorway}

Whatever your reasons for opening the door; it's too late to change your mind. One footstep in was all it took and you're arrived elsewhere. Your world shutting behind you in the sound of a click. Turning around reveals that door is gone.

Vanished.

More than that, you're not alone. There are others in the same dank and dingy room as you are. Looking just as confused. Wherever you came from, the place you've ended up in looks to be a disused jail cell. Stone walls. And some kind of mold or moss that has overgrown one of the corners. The bars that separate you from a dim passageway look half rusted and that door might not even be locked.

Maybe it would be better for you if it was though. Because a small scraping sound can be heard for those lucky enough to have keen ears. Whatever is making that sound is coming closer, drawn in by the new arrivals.

Scattered through the underground cells there are skeletons, very old and left in whatever place they fell. Some carried weapons, little good it did them. Finding the exit is not a problem either, but it's locked. A key would need to be found in order for escape to be possible, and hopefully found before you met the same fate as the unfortunate souls before you.

{Key}
white padlock=locked door
red padlock=trapped door

{Adventure stats}
Items Found:
- Rusty Short Sword(s)
- Quarterstaff(s)
- Torch(s) (radiates light/heat if you can light them)

Obstacles:
- locked doors and portcullis (roll d6 to unlock/open; 4,5,6 =success)
- loose stone and hazardous passageways due to neglect
- trapped doors; simple mechanical traps (d6 to avoid/disable; 5,6 =success)

Creature Bestiary:
A - Animated Object: chair (d6 to attack; 5,6 = hit //d6 to escape; 5,6 =success) [activated when used; traps victim by attempting to hold and crush with the arms of the chair]
B - Automoton, Pulverizer (d6 to hit; 5,6 //d6 to dodge attack; 4,5,6 =success) [attacks with: sonic shriek]
C - Dread Guard (d6 to hit; 4,5,6 //d6 to dodge/block; 3,4,5,6 =success) [attacks with: longsword]




{OOC faq:
How many characters can I play? At this time we're asking for a limit of one per person.
Can I roll more than once for something? Yes! But only once per tag.
Where do I show my rolled result? Optional for wherever you like, but subject line works well.
I don't have any dice, how do I roll for these things? We got you.
Adventure Tools - online dice roller}

Comments

Rosaline - Open

[shesaredhead]

This girl was no stranger to magical trickery. The course of her life had been shifted from natural to unnatural once before. Now indebted, a concept foreign to Rosaline for the majority of her life, she was beholden to a witch of great power.

But for the simple days when her only concerns were making sure she was prepared for the winter to come.

The door had seemed like the perfect way out, away from a life of serving other's needs and the complex rules of the people's way of life. Rosaline took that exit with no hesitation, however, what did that actually mean?

Was she so unhappy as a human girl that she wished a return to her true self for the short life it would be? Or did she just need time to figure out her place in the world?

If she found the answers to her questions here, it would be only after first dealing with the strangeness of being kept in a cage, and in the ground. Rosaline made a face at the dirty conditions surrounding her. This simply would not do.

Re: Rosaline - Open

[skepticseer]

Morgana's careful to observe everything before stepping forward. Touching the bars, she flicks flecks of rust off her fingers.

As if a place like this could keep her.

A deep, and rather displeased, breath, and Morgana moves to put a hand on Rosaline's shoulder.

"My dear, I do not approve of these lodgings. We need to find better."

[shesaredhead]

The squirrrel- The girl startles a bit. There are some things that she will never unlearn.

"I could not agree more, my Lady." In spite of her strange origins, Rosaline's speech was a fine one. The Mad Madame Mim may have had her faults, but eloquence was prized even for one as crazy as she.

It was a great relief to have the Lady Morgana here however. Instead of facing a new trick alone, she could hide behind one of the few who had not left her. Abandoned her. Stranded her.

"Would you like me to try and pick the lock?"

[skepticseer]

"If it please you," Morgana's likely to give the girl a great deal of leeway when it comes to her decisions. Morgana didn't free the poor thing to trap her again.

"Are you good at locks?" It'd be a great skill, and probably quieter than magic.

Mars

[charismapotion]

He had just been about to go meet the knight he was squired too after a little tiff. The Sorcerer was a bit shocked to say the least when he realized where he was. "This isn't funny!" he called out at the darkness. Instead of looking for a touch he did what he always does, he closed his eyes and with a shift of his hands he envolved Dancing Lights it was an old favorite, the spell he mastered first. Moving to the lock he knelled down looking at it.

"...well, shit." He was not normally negative but that looked like a grim prospect.

[shesaredhead]

Separated from the Lady Morgana, it had only taken a turn or two and the result was that Rosaline was entirely lost. If you asked her, she normally had a much better sense of direction, but that require things like being out in the sunlight and open air. Not in some horribly dark place with no windows.

Now. There were good reasons for digging up giant holes in the ground and storing things, but people really shouldn't be on that list.

The redhead peeks her head around the edge of one wall, curious to see who is swearing in this next cage. She's already escaped hers, so she doesn't see what the problem is.

Open!

[belovedmemory]

What in God's name was going on here?

One minute Natasha had been running after her love, the dashing Pirate King Uriah Flint, and the next minute, she found herself stopped in front of a door. There had been so many conflicts in her privileged life, including running away from home, in pursuit of FREEDOM! But also in pursuit of the man she loved, or so she thought.

But curiosity and impulsivity always got the best of her. Grabbing the knob, she pushed her way through.

In the damp, dusky dungeon, she lets out a mousey cough.

"Naomi?" she whispers, in the dark.

[shesaredhead]

Mousey? Well. Perhaps they weren't Rosaline's favorite rodent, but there was nothing offensive about them. This woman's ears perked a little at the small sound of normality.

"I haven't seen anyone by that name yet."

She'd been lucky enough to walk through and find someone that she knew. Rosaline couldn't imagine what this place would be like without the Lady Morgana... even if she had separated herself from the witch by some accident.

[belovedmemory]

Oh my god there's someone else here.

A bright spark of electricity flies from one of her hands to the other, the brief light it provides is enough for the two women to see each other for less than a second.

"Who are you?" she demands, her voice obviously a little scared.

[shesaredhead]

Less than a second, but the redheaded woman is quite surprised by the jolt of spell. Not afraid of magic on it's own though, there have been far too many witches and wizards in her life for that.

"Rosaline." Another thing the electric light had shown. This woman was outside of the bars that defined cell after cell of rusty jailhouse.

"I am, well, somewhat lost."

[oldfashionedhero]

Steve's first priority, other than finding a way out of this obvious prison, is to free as many people as he can. Perhaps he assumes, a little too quickly, that they're all in the same boat as he is.

The first person he comes across is another woman who, if the sound of her reaction is anything to go by, is definitely in the same boat as he is.

He moves to the bars, lifting a torch he's taken from the wall in order to see her better.

"Don't worry, we're getting out of here. You might want to step away from the door."

[belovedmemory]

Wow. This man ... was really quite handsome.

Natasha doesn't say much. She just nods and takes as many steps back as she can until she can feel the cold, stone wall behind her. Then she takes a tiny step back forwards. There's no way she was going to let her clothes touch the dirty wall for an extended amount of time.

[myfistyourface]

Here Naomi is, locked up again. She's not sure how she got here, but she knows that she's not going to be staying here for long. Whatever this pit of a place is, they can't have anything stronger than Imperial steel. She cranes her head as far out as she can, and satisfied that there are no guards to see her, she grabs one of the bars and yanks, grinding the heel of her boots into the decaying bones that litter the floor for leverage. The bars twist easily* in her grip, and soon she's got a hole large enough to squeeze through.

The dark and the grim decor, must be getting to her, though—she nearly trips on her last step through. She could have sworn she heard someone in the distance call her name. But that'd be ridiculous.

[* 1d6=6, bam. lemme know if I am doing this right because I hope I am~ ]

[belovedmemory]

As soon as Natasha got out of her cell, her first mission was to find Naomi. Because why wouldn't she also be teleported to this strange dungeon? No matter where she is, she can always find Naomi, right?

Probably in 99.9% of all cases, she would be wrong. But today, she was right.

Sadly, because of how dark it is, Natasha couldn't see her from a distance, and come gallivanting in for a hug. But torch in hand, she's searching this small, damp room, peeking into the cell doors, and looking for her friend.

"Pssst. Naomi. Where are you?"

[ You are totally doing it right. ]

Steve Rogers. Open

[oldfashionedhero]

The door had been like any other in the old warehouse. Steve had stepped through it without a second thought. The second thought came with the sudden realization that he'd stepped right into a jail cell.

The door clicked behind him and when he turned it was gone. He moved his hands over the stone wall but there was no latch or sign that a door had even been there in the first place.

He took in the skeletons and the others in the room with him with one searching look. He tilted his head to the left slightly and let out a small sigh.

"Well, this is new."

[ferros]

Erik, who had made the same discovery about the way back only a short while ago, starts at the fact that the empty space behind him is now suddenly filled with another man, and a rather large one at that. Having looked over their little congregation, he found he hadn't felt terribly threatened; with Steve's arrival, that altered a bit.

"Welcome," He found himself saying, a bit dryly, as he made slow steps to gain both distance and a better look at Steve. A short-sword was held low against his hip, ready to swing up at a moment's notice, but merely defensive for now. His voice had a tinge of a German accent, "Who are you?"

[oldfashionedhero]

"Steve Rogers."

Steve takes in the stranger, not missing the short sword, or the distance that he puts between them. It's unclear if he's simply picked up one from the skeletons around or is some kind of jailer. He meets his eyes and gives him a small nod.

"And you are?"

[shesaredhead]

Mostly in the effort to find a way out of this strange, winding, jail. Rosaline continued on with her exploring. She was a bit dusty, covered in cobwebs and dirt, but she'd found a torch and a sword. Though her grip on the first was better than her hold on the second.

The more she saw, the most people she seemed to stumble upon as well.

It was a very strange place.

"Hello."

[oldfashionedhero]

"Hello," Steve said, taking in the dust covered woman in front of him. The torch definitely made it easier to see her face and the sword in her possession.

He glanced back towards the wall. "Where exactly am I?"

Erik Lensherr - Open

[ferros]

The mansion in Westchester boasted many doors and many rooms, which was useful during the times Erik wished to be alone but did not wish to leave. Wandering the halls, he often found his thoughts drifted in between his goals and not being able to imagine growing up in such luxury. Even without Charles' leave, he might have investigated each room; that was probably one of the reasons why the man had given him permission straight away. Acting as if there was nothing to hide and giving trust was an effective tool against the paranoid.

He was walking down one of the unexplored wings and reaching through the doors with his senses alone. He would try to guess how many objects within the room contained metal and try to decide what they were; once he was secure in his reasoning, he would look.

Needless to say, Erik was a bit bemused to find a dungeon on the second floor of a New York mansion.

Charles? A thought that echoes to nothing, of course. He'd told the man to stay out of his mind; while he doesn't exactly trust the man to have honored that, and doesn't doubt Xavier's ability to play this form of prank on him, he can't see the point of this sort of incursion. It's more likely that he's dreaming. If that's true, things are about to get very ugly.

He's seen cells like this before, and the inside of them. Perhaps it's telling the only thing that really stands to surprise him is the presence of swords among the skeletons. He experimentally calls to one, and it breaks free of some unfortunate collection of bones to fit into his hand. Most often when he's dreaming, he is unable to use his powers, but that doesn't make this a reality. If it is, though, he'd be best to have a weapon ready.

As his eyes adjust to the darkness, he can see other shapes moving down the hall, people talking. Something scraping. For now, Erik will stay within the shadows until he can decide his approach and what he is approaching. Or until he's discovered. He didn't make a lot of noise moving, but that short-sword snapping free of its body might have warranted some attention.

[shesaredhead]

Chatter. It was something of a natural skill for this woman. But that wasn't the part that really stood out. So far, Rosaline had wandered and stumbled her way into finding a good handful of the people trapped here. Her dress was dirty and torn from some mild encounters, but otherwise she was unharmed.

Gripping a torch tightly, and holding it high, the lady in red and pink shuffled a bit more away from the others again. Seeking a quiet corner and finding instead...

Another stranger.

Rosaline blinked, clearly startled in the flickering lights.

bless u Rosaline, you get around

[ferros]

Erik blinks right back at her, more so from the light than the woman. It's a bit awkward to have been backed into a corner to avoid attention and still be found there. Aside from a torch, though, she doesn't seem to have a weapon.

"Where are we?" He'll offer a soft voice, at least. He's wary, but she hardly looks the part of a jailor.

Lost and Alone and a Chicken

[iamchickenbrent]

In a shadowed corner, far from the noise of others, lost and alone, and more than slightly befuddled arrives Chicken Brent.

Still Chicken-suited from his shift at McCluckersons he runs a wing nervously under his nose and leans on his giant red arrow sign with a sigh and a sniffle. Mold. Good thing he had tissues in the drumstick pocket.

Pulling one out he noisily blows his nose and stuffs it in the opposing drumstick where he keeps his trash. People might think he's an idiot, but he's got a system. More or less.

Upon discovering that the door which had led him here - he thought it was the kitchen - was gone, he shrugged. He was a man of the world, after all his adventures and everything. He'd seen things.

He'd seen things.

"Hello?"

Not lost, or alone, or a chicken

[skepticseer]

It was the sound of blowing one's nose that has Morgana's attention. Rosaline's wandered somewhere, leaving a rather annoyed witch hoping said noisy nose is a redhead's.

No. It's a man-chicken?

"What are you?"

Hopefully, this isn't her captor's idea of dinner, because no. The hello is completely lost, in trying to take in the chicken suit.

Still lost, not alone, always a chicken.

[iamchickenbrent]

Brent dug a wing into his backside for a good scratch - something nearly impossible for the amateur mascot, but an endeavor he had pioneered in his time. He then stretched outward and upward, anchoring one comically sized chicken foot to twist his spine. Reaching the end of his range, Chicken Brent noticed a slight figure in the gray light of the exit.

His stomach dropped in fear. Or was that his heart in love?

All he could think, though...

"Wow..."