Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Breaker of Chains (1x1 with FadedTapestry)

Her ink supply was running low. That was a problem. It wasn't exactly easy to get more in here, and especially not of the quality she needed for the spell; every quillstroke with the mix of her original, actually suitable ink, and the barely-a-step-up-from-muddy-water she had thinned it out with risked a weaker obfuscation spell, and thus discovery of her attempts to get outside help.

At first, she had been discerning, trying to send messages to specific individuals she knew might be sympathetic to her plight. Then, she had tried to appeal to enemies of the Carabazza syndicate. Now, she was addressing her letters to 'people opposed to slavery as a concept' and 'anyone with a strong sword-arm and sense of justice', hoping anyone with such qualities would discover her pleas for help. She was promising them money she would never be able to get; a body she would never compromise; long since stale political connections; every star in the sky and the moon on top of it as a bonus. It didn't matter. She would promise anything to anyone for a hand with just getting out of here. If they could get her bow back, too, she might even consider trying to fulfill that promise. They had taken it from her when she had been bundled on that cart back in the city. Maybe they had it here and were hoping to sell it later. As long as that scumbag, Drizvro, hadn't taken it. The quill shook with anger as she imagined his filthy hands on her beautiful weapon. It steadied again as she imagined her own hands around his neck.

Finishing her tenth note since her arrival in the camp, she folded the dirty fabric scrap she had written it on as tightly around a pebble as she could, and stuffed it into her pocket. The half-a quill and tiny inkwell she had managed to smuggle in was quietly hidden behind a loose rock in the corner of their holding pit, which she then sat in front of. Some of the other unfortunate souls here were definitely keeping an eye on her activities, but they didn't ask any questions, and she weren't offering any answers. In a little while, when the guard changed, she'd conjure her invisible mage hand above the grate, and use it to hurl the rock in any direction as far as she could. Jax closed her eyes and rested her filthy hair against the rocks and placed a hand on her stomach. It had been over a week now. They were fed, sometimes, at irregular intervals. She hadn't been able to discern a pattern of any kind. It forced them all to waste energy on being constantly alert, never being able to afford to really sleep, lest it cost them that day's cup of water.

It was a new moon tonight. Thousands of stars glittered in the darkness above, untouchable. Jax had no real idea where they were, and neither did any of her fourteen pit mates seem to. Being blindfolded during transport was apparently a regular practice. She knew that she was at least some days horse travel away from Caer Elin, and, according the the birds she could hear, somewhere close to the ocean. That didn't tell her an awful lot, but keeping an eye and an ear out for anything at all that might be useful helped keep the fire in her gut burning.

She heard hobnailed boots shuffle away somewhere above. With a barely audible whisper, the pebble took flight, clutched in a magical grasp that carried it high into the air and out of the pit, and she flung it somewhere to the south east, hoping it would find someone. Anyone.

She was going to get out, she was going to survive this. And she was going to get revenge, come hell or high water.

The pebble had been found by a wanderer, an explorer of ruins and not someone bound by any one territory or domain. The message itself had travelled yet further still, to the next port along the coastline. It was there that it had reached the ears of a rather boisterous blue-skinned genasi woman, who had been just about to get into an arm-wrestling contest when she had overheard. Questioning the speaker, the message paired with rumours by other travellers, and one person who swore they didn't know anyone involved but who knew a fellow who sent supplies there, and the decision was made. Preparations had taken place the moment that the woman's feet had stepped aboard the sleek, dark-wooded vessel. Not that there was not always a state of readiness, a wariness and air of precaution ever since events bygone but no less remembered.

And then the Hunt had begun.

The first warning that Jax would have had of something happening would not have been subtle, namely in the form of a brassy, loud reptilian shrieking and the sound of heavy leathery wings powering through the air. Clattering armour as guards ran to take up posts, and then belching fire close enough to prove that wherever she was being held, it was under attack.
"Dragon!"
"Get to your tower stations! Javelins, bows, get the cannons ready!"

That was when the second warning came in the form of "Boss! Vessel coming into port, crimson sails!" If she were sensitive to magic and the use of it, charged spells would have been sensed, across from wherever she was but close, and not ones of insignificance. The attack was two-pronged, quick, ruthless and brutal.

What was of relevance to her was when there was the sound of running footsteps alongside heavy hooves coming to the pit's grate.
"This looks like one of them! Look at the bolt there. You don't bolt things like that unless there is not something you want to keep within."

Then, peering down at them, likely more of a silhouette than anything else, was a pair of bright golden eyes and a distinctly feline face. Triangular ears framed by a mess of hair. Tabaxi. Furre, beastfolk... a kind that went by many names in many places.
"Hello! We are here to get you out, one moment please!" Friendly, cheerful, if with the urgency of someone who knew that they had to be quick.