Trail to Charn
It's raining in Charn. As if the sky has connected Alexandria to Charn - two places to one another. You've come in to a location known by Aya. A familiar out-of-the way place. It's good enough to serve the purpose of your entry into Charn. But it may not be safe for long. It's hard to tell really. Your first purpose is to gather information on the location of the Calithailin residence. Which would certainly be noted in a records department, and might be known even by those on the street.
If you are inclined to ask passerby's for directions.
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls talk: aliased to Diplomacy+3: (12)+24+3: 39 GAME: Critias rolls diplomacy: (4)+25: 29 GAME: Telamon rolls talky+4: aliased to diplomacy+5+4: (19)+25+5+4: 53
Seldan knows his role here, and hangs back to the back of the group, remaining largely silent. He has considerably toned down his look, and the moonlit armor is traded for a much more understated look. He appears to be wearing a helmet that largely conceals hair toned down from ginger-blonde to platinum blonde, and while he appears armed and armored, the chosen look seems to be that of a guard or possibly hired muscle.
There's a kind of tempo to it, indeed afterward Telamon muses on whether he should submit a paper on the similarities between social engineering and the Eidolon Hymn. And Tel has always has a good eye on what works. Approaching an elderly couple, arm-in-arm with Cor'lana, Telamon lays it on thick. Playing up the 'newlyweds still enthralled with the novelty of it all' works like a charm, and soon the couple is explaining the directions, and even getting the couple (and their 'servant') a guide. As the group begins to smoothly move off, Telamon tosses Critias an apologetic look and a smile, before asking Lana, "I wonder if we'll be like that when we get down the road a ways?" His smile is broad and guileless, but his starry eyes never stop moving.
The last time Aryia was in Charn, it was to liberate some poor folks being used for a demon's nefarious purposes. Before then, getting information about Charn's adventurer recruitment methods. And before that...
Well, that's written all over her. It's clear she's off put by being in this country. Very old habits kick in without realizing it: staying in the back of the group, barely signing or speaking, averting gaze from others. She's dressed slightly different than normal, overclothes simple but well made. A ruffled jacket vest, slacks. Same blue boots. Passable as a servant. Hired or forced.
She breathes a sigh of relief as Telamon, Cor'lana, and Critias gain directions.
Critias takes in the sights of Charn. For all it's reputation, it is a place he's wanted to visit. He's just never quite found the reason. Until now, that is. He's been at this long enough to stifle his natural curiosity though, and keep to business. He's willing to talk to a few of the locals, but only after watching Telamon in action to get an idea of the best approach. Fixing a smile on his face he slips into the role of manservant and plays along. Once they are on their way he smiles a more genuine one to Telamon. "That was masterful," he compliments the sorcerer before returning his attention to their surroundings.
Aya may be Charneth by birth, but it has been a very long time since she has set foot in the land. As well, her face is known to those they ask about, so all the more reason for her to also keep herself more inconspicuous. Moreso, though not completely; she realizes she should not necessarily be at the fore, though cannot abide skulking at the rear with all others at risk first.
This puts her in the middle, simple attire and cloak against the rain serving well enough for both that and some concealment. Enough to hide much of her blinking at Telamon's finding polite travelers so readily. After the traveling couple depart, she notes softly to Telamon as they follow, "That was amazingly polite..."
Cor'lana is admittedly a little flushed that it seemed to have all paid off, looking up at Telamon with a small smile. "I hope so, my love," she says softly, as she's used to doing in lands like these and situations like this one. "Still, we should try and keep our wits about us. Charm only goes so far. As does... Charming."
To Seldan, she offers a small smile, although there's still a note of apology in her violet eyes for all of the recent things that have occurred. Even with an apology letter sent, there's still the lingering shame that comes with having shouted at a friend during an emotionally difficult time.
The child leads you through the city. Buildings vie for space here and there, crowding the streets. It's a wholly different atmosphere from Alexandria. Here the poor and destitute crowd for space alongside the buildings. Begging for alms. Most people don't walk down the street without at least two guards following them. Most slaves by their collars, or mercenaries by the look of their weapons.
The child happily chatters about the various things they pass, until they reach their destination and then eagerly rounds on Telamon for another coin. Sticking a hopeful hand out.
Across the street is the building that was described to them earlier. It's a large estate, one with at least three floors visible from the outside, and a fair bit more sprawling than buildings in other parts of the city. Though its size is more commonplace in this region of the city. It is clear from the movement of the curtains, and various other small signs that someone is home. Servants at the very least.
Telamon has his moments of folly, but not this time. He smiles down at the lad, and slips a silver coin from Dran into his hand. Probably wouldn't be prudent to pass the boy an Alexandrian coin. Once the boy has run along, he turns to the others. "So," he murmurs softly. "Here we are. Shall we knock at the front door, or see if the servants' entry is open?" He gestures to another building, a feint, and if someone moves closer he says casually, "Come close, love, I think this fountain might be one of Arpalagh's works."
Critias nods in approval as the boy is given the coin. Critias is reasonably sure that even in a land like this, the children are worthy. He runs his gaze over the estate. "I'm fine with either approach. But it might be better to observe a bit longer. To see if we can get an idea if they have visitors, and how they tend to come and go." Critias glances at the others now. "I was thinking of wandering around and examining from a few different sides. I can meet the rest of you back here in a few minutes?"
Aryia silently listens to the child, watching and listening to them speak. Here, she doesn't acknowledge the destitute, nor the slaves, nor the guards. Simply glancing to Telamon and Cor'lana for guidance.
At Telamon's suggestion, she gives a light shrug. Less of apathy, and more of 'I don't want to fuck up and choose wrong.' She holds up a single finger, option one. Of course, she wouldn't be doing the talking. She looks to Critias, nodding at their suggestion.
"I greatly dislike the idea of trying the front door," Cor'lana says to Telamon, her brow furrowing. "The front door invites undue attention. I'd prefer the Servants' Quarters, myself."
She does peer up at Telamon. "But..." And here she sighs. "If anyone can navigate a front door meeting here in this place, it'd be you, darling. If you think it prudent, then I'll help you in trying the front door."
Seldan, too, is silent, staring around him, his eyes narrowing. This lasts for a matter of seconds before he sighs, a shiver visibly rippling through him. He has nothing to say, allowing the others to talk amongst themselves, but he wears the pained look of one who has seen more than they want to - or just really want a shower.
Aya gives the fountain a passing glance, with more focus upon the passersby. Until the manor is in sight, that is. Her posture tenses beneath her cloak as she attempts to skim it with her eyes without blatantly staring. "I think that-" she starts to offer quietly before pausing to consider, "that I will follow others' preferences. This is a personal visit for me." Perhaps too personal.
She then leans nearer to add, "I can't be sure, but there may be a guest here: a sylvanori woman who would wish to return home. I would see that she does, if she is here."
The child takes the coin with wide pleased eyes and promptly vanishes. Good luck finding them again. People pass by and though the group gets a few glances its mostly from the mercenaries who eye those who look to be the more 'combat' oriented of your group. Seldan being the most obviously armored and armed then gets the lions share of glances. No one approaches however.
GAME: Critias rolls stealth: (2)+23: 25 GAME: Critias refreshes spells. GAME: Critias casts Invisibility. Caster Level: 6 DC: 16 GAME: Critias casts Find Traps. Caster Level: 6 DC: 16 GAME: Critias casts Detect Magic. Caster Level: 6 DC: 14 GAME: Critias rolls perception: (7)+25: 32 GAME: Aya rolls perception: (4)+30: 34 GAME: Aryia rolls perception: (10)+31: 41 GAME: Aryia rolls knowledge/engineering: (19)+3: 22 GAME: Telamon rolls perception: (7)+23: 30
Critias makes his way around the estate, steps stealthy and invisible to eyes (or so he thinks...). He casts a quick Orison every time he sees a window, his invisible expression crinkling slightly with concern at the results of each time. Critias also notes the servant's door that most of them were interested in. Here he pauses and sends his Sight inside for a few moments, but doesn't seem any less worried. Finally Critias completes his scouting circuit, just in time to notice a guard who has seemingly noticed him. Careful not to look at the rest of the party, or to act like he's trying to escape, Critias moves to the opposite side of the square and waits for the officer-type to approach, already rehearsing what he's going to say - and how much he's willing to pay, to make this all go away…
Telamon waits for Critias to come back. And waits. And waits. His expression grows worried, and his brow furrows. "Where the hells is he?" he mutters. The half-elf is starting to feel a little conspicuous -- well, more than usual -- and then he notices an alleyway where suddenly some of the destitute are vacating and a watchman heading down it. "... Aryia, you see that?" he asks. Pretty sure she does, but still.
GAME: Critias rolls knowledge/local: (16)+7: 23
Aryia isn't too sure what to do in this case, others more magically inclined have their own methods of probing, and the mute was admittedly too cautious to try and do anything out of the ordinary. But one thing she could do, was at least watch. She idly looks at the estate. And a thought enters her head. How would Venom break in? Probably look for a weak point. She squints. Looks down at the roads. The fountain. The alleyways. Back to the estate. The mute perks. "Basement," she signs to the party on the down low. "It must have a basement. And there must be sewers nearby for this fountain." <Handspeech/Tongues>
She looks back at Telamon's mention. Nods slowly.
"I'm admittedly a fan of turning this into a distraction if we can find a basement," Cor'lana replies in a murmur, looking around. "The more we stand here, the more attention we'll attract. Tel, we can vanish and look around."
Aya is uncertain precisely were Critias went, which is a good thing, given the circumstances. If she know, others might know. She does note some looking less than noble or wealthy emerging from the adjacent alley, however, even as Telamon mentions them. "They could be servants leaving," a nod of hooded head to the alley, "or they are giving out alms?" Her tone conveys her extreme doubts on the second option. The delay of Critias is also a growing worry, and the watchman in the square (which is certainly not unusual) doesn't add to the calm.
Aryia's gesture causes her to perk a brow and nod. "An excellent point, sister. I would be more comfortable off the streets. Less to be concerned of, and no need for magic to hide. " Now she looks about elsewhere from the manor; for signs of Critias, entrances underground, or concerns in those milling by around them.
GAME: Seldan rolls perception: (9)+25: 34
"My lady, there." Seldan's quiet murmur is accompanied by a gesture to a sewer grate set into the cobblestones. He points out three of them, quietly, in turn, but turns to look where Telamon is looking, his brow furrowing in confusion. "We should not remain here, my lord, my lady." That is all he says, and he keeps his tones low amid the hubbub of the square.
The guardsman walks right up to Crit and looks him up and down. Now that the pair are closer together it's clear that the guardsman is wearing enchanted spectacles. Fancy. "You know, skulking about invisibly is illegal friend." The guardsman says casually and irritably. "Care to explain what you're doing here?"
Critias speaks to the guardsman for a bit, then surreptitiously passes him a small handful of gold coins. It's only after the guardsman has continued on his way and out of sight that Critias moves to rejoin the rest of the party. He doesn't bother to hide the relief on his face. "Well...that could have gone better. But still, I learned that the front door and the back door are unwarded. The back door -is- the servants' entrance, though it leads into a kitchen. Always someone in there, and we'll be spotted immediately if we enter that way." His expression turns wry, "I wouldn't even count on magical invisibility, in this city."
Critias glances back at the estate again. "And the bad news, is, every window is magically warded, with some defensive magic or alarm, I don't know which. Even that that statue of Taara is warded. I don't think sneaking in is an option, even for..." the wry look flashes across his features once more, he had likely been about say 'even for me' before recalling he was also the one who had to resort to paying off the local guard. On his first day. Instead of finishing his thought, Critias looks to Telamon. "Would you be up to talking our way in?"
Telamon gives Critias an annoyed look, but lets it drop. Instead, he absorbs the ideas, before glancing to the Aya. "Aya. Who would be the head of the household here? I need a name, something more than just 'this person that lives here'." He glances at the sewer grates, but shakes his head. "Unless you see one off the main road, no way. We don't look like maintenance workers."
Aryia glances to the sewer grate Seldan points out, her sighing slightly in relief as Critas navigates Charneth corruption. She looks up to Telamon, looks over to the alleyway that the destitute are walking out from.
She takes a half step towards the sewer grate. "Can find another one in alleys. If protected from outside-in, I doubt protections are place for bypassing a wall," she signs to the others, slowly. <Handspeech/Tongues>
Yes she is referring to knocking a wall down in the sewers.
The mute glances to the alleyway that was recently vacated by the destitute. Squints. "There must be one in there. Attention is off it now after all that, so... a moment fleeting..." Aryia gestures, nodding towards the alley. She makes another half step towards it. <Handspeech/Tongues>
Seldan inclines his head wordlessly to Aryia. "We must move along, my lord, do we not wish to attract undesired attention." Again, Seldan's tones are kept low, intended only for the group. He has moved very little, his arms folding themselves across his chest.
"Hloire Calithailin is the matron of the House," Aya offers to Telamon as she watches the guard move across. Looking back to the half-sil, she adds, "Ioke is her son, Daed's father." She then admits, "I do not know if either resides here or is present, now." All the more uncertainties, and she is unhappy with them.
One close call is enough. "Let us get off the street, in either fashion." She nods to Aryia, understanding full well what she refers to. Sitting still is not one of her better qualities, at least not within a bustling square.
"And it seems like Telamon and I might be the best for handling the... discussions, as it were." Cor'lana frowns a little as she considers Aryia's idea. "I can't help but feel like knocking a wall down in the sewers is... That would be _noisy_, wouldn't it? I'm inclined to agree with Seldan, either way--pick a path and quickly."
She looks to Aryia going for the grate. And she looks at Telamon and smiles. "Come on, or I might charm some hapless man down there that isn't you." She goes to follow Aryia in.
The alleyway is blessedly empty, or at least seems so. So you quickly make your way down. It's a moment of instant regret. It is... By all the holy gods it is rancid. The sewers of Alexandria may not be pleasant, but this is a whole other level of terrible. Not more than a handful of feet inside you find a dead body rotting in the sewer. It's only a tenth of the terrible smells that assault your senses.
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Fortitude: (10)+9: 19 GAME: Seldan rolls fortitude: (2)+28: 30 GAME: Critias rolls fort: (7)+22: 29 GAME: Aya rolls fort: (1)+22: 23 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Telamon rolls fortitude: (11)+9: 20 GAME: Aryia rolls fortitude: (14)+19: 33
The sewers. Why did it have to be sewers? And worse -- the stink... it's a hundred times -worse- than Alexandria. Somehow, Telamon suspects these sewers do not have amiable otyughs cleaning up in them. He makes a gagging sound, and pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, covering his mouth and nose as he tries to think about something else. Anything else. Hurriedly he fishes a second one out to offer to Lana, as he mumbles something slightly incoherent and obscene.
Cor'lana is struggling. Yes, she goaded Telamon into getting into the sewers with her, but she's regretting it now as she takes the handkerchief and tries not to lose her everything in the sewers. Not that Charn is known for its good food--and she has no need to eat the food, thank goodness--but the sensation of losing one's stomach contents still isn't pleasant.
"Welcome to Charn," she murmurs, before looking around. "Okay. What way are we going?"
An old memory being ripped from the deep recesses of her mind, the smell makes Aryia hesitate out of deeply ingrained muscle memory. She blinks. Gags. Then shudders. The rotting corpse gets a side glance, then she levels her gaze, pulling out a bandanna and wrapping it around her mouth and nose. "Tip about Charneth sewers. Never. Ever. Take a closer look at what makes weird squishing sounds. Just keep walking."
She looks about, trying to remember where the estate is in correlation to where they are underground. "If we can find the wall that the basement runs against, I can look through the wall. And I don't mean punch it the fuck down." <Handspeech/Tongues>
GAME: Aryia rolls survival: (11)+6: 17 GAME: Seldan rolls survival: (17)+25: 42 GAME: Critias rolls survival: (16)+25: 41
Aya is at once assaulted by the odorously offensive awful offel. Enough that she proceeds to hunch over and retch to add her own, small contribution to the ...whatever they stand in. She attempts to point in answer, or it could just be a wave of her wave to try and fan in fresh air from anywhere. She wanted to get off the street. Now she is severely doubting this decision. When she can stand straight, she pulls the edge of her cloak over her face to both wipe it and try to filter. "We can -erp- knock it down when we find it. Soon." She hopes, and starts looking about the sewer walls for anything looking ... less sewery than others?
GAME: Seldan casts Light. Caster Level: 16 DC: 18
The smell is horrendous - as bad as anything Seldan has ever experienced. Even the usually unflappable Silver Guard makes a disgusted face as the miasma down here envelops them all, and for a minute, it looks like even he will be sick. He shakes his head, though, and reaches into his haversack, pulling a spare, clean shirt and tying it over nose and mouth. That, at least, appears to help, and in a moment, he has pulled himself together and - well, after a failed attempt and a scowl of frustration - conjured light. By that, he points down a particular corridor. "That way."
Critias lifts the grate for others to enter and then carefully closes it behind them, so as to leave as little sound or sign of their passage as possible. Once inside his eyes begin to water at the stench. He shudders. And then seems to sprout more hair on the top of his head, and the sides of his face. His shoulders slump into a bit of a hunch. He begins sniffing at the air - paradoxically the stench seems to bother him less even as his nose has grown so much sharper. He heads off through the sewers towards the estate, keeping to the very edge of the light so others can see which way he goes.
It's an unpleasant but thankfully not long trip through the sewers to where the estate - the bottom of it - should be. However the line of sewer stretches in either direction and there is no immediate sign of anything more than wall, water... and that which you really don't want to take a closer look at.
Telamon stares at Critias suspiciously for long moments, evidently his feral change making Tel just a little on edge. "You're not a werewolf, are you?" he rasps through the cloth. Following along, the stink like an ever-present curse hanging over them, until they come to a wall. Looks like any other. "Is this wall load-bearing?" he inquires, deceptively calm.
Aryia rubs her chin over the bandanna, inspecting the wall. Looking down the vile passage and up. Pat the wall. Nod. Yep. The wall is made of wall.
She turns back and- flinches onto a back foot from Critias' shape morphing somewhat. "... warn us about that shit? I am on a hair trigger right now."
She shakes her head, ambling along with the others, wincing as there's several tepid sqwealches from her boots. The mute tightens up her gloves and rubs her hands. "I hope not," she answers to Telamon. "But once you all give the clear, I'll take a peek what's behind it." <Handspeech/Tongues>
GAME: Seldan attempts to cast Detect Magic but fails due to ASF. GAME: Seldan casts Detect Magic. Caster Level: 16 DC: 18
The word 'werewolf' gets a look that is slightly pained from Cor'lana. She just sighs and tries to maintain her focus on the mission. "Seldan? Do you need a hand there?" she calls over. Distracting herself from... That. Anything but that.
Aya follows Seldan's lead, trying to find a happy medium in her pace: not too slow to linger, not so fast as to spatter or churn up unpleasant things. Unfortunately, the medium through which they move is anything but happy. All of that is distracting enough from Critias' change. Though when he starts inhaling deeply... she pauses again to gag, gesturing to Aryia and the wall, in general.
"Not a werewolf," Critias says solemnly. "More akin to what a druid might do. But not exactly." He hesitates at Aryia. Then he tries to make his voice sound more reassuring. "I learned to unlock this power while adventuring with a druid, in fact." See? All on the up and up. No druid would stand for it otherwise, he seems to be implying. Once they reach the wall, Critias also examines it more mundanely, using his eyes and nose.
Seldan, too, eyes Critias curiously, but the explanation seems enough - at least for the moment. Again, he raises a hand when they encounter a suspiciously smooth wall. His eyes narrow immediately at the wall, but he is momentarily distracted by the query. "No, my lady. Casting is - difficult - in armor," is all he says.
All the same, by the pale blue-gold-silver light that he has affixed to the end of the bow on his back, he begins another spell, and again sees it fizzle ere it is fully born. A second attempt again proves successful, and that same blue-gold-silver is now a veil over his eyes. "The wall has magic," he says at once. "Ware you. Near the floor, perhaps two feet across." With a gauntleted hand, he delineates the area.
GAME: Critias rolls knowledge/engineering: (16)+9: 25 GAME: Telamon casts Detect Magic. Caster Level: 15 DC: 18
Aryia rubs her hands and brings them to her face, clasped together like in prayer. A glowing, silver eye peers at those with magics before giving a slow nod. Stepping away from the indicated spot to avoid it from Seldan, she focuses. Two soft claps. And she places her hands on the wall. It's sticky.
Suppressing the urge to gag, she focuses, and her glowing gaze dulls, eyes clouding over as if blinded by cataracts. Sigils glow dull on her gloves as she twists and turns her head about. Looking at something. Her eyes widen, then brows furrow into a scowl. "F-ckin- sh-t," one can hear her raspily hiss. Her hands pad around, getting a better view, crouching. Then she pulls away, blinking about the effects.
"Slave block," she motions after wiping the ick off her hands. "Lots of shit bedding on the floors. A lot of elves too. Half elves. Really weird. Most aren't mul'neissa. Looks like a whole ass prison in there. Or, it could just be slave housing. It's..." she looks off. Shakes her head. "It's hard to tell the difference, trust me. It's not at capacity, but it's got some people in there." <Handspeech/Tongues>
GAME: Critias rolls perception: (9)+25: 34 GAME: Seldan rolls spellcraft: (3)+18: 21
Telamon studies the wall as well, his eyes glimmering with the characteristic light of a detection spell. "Interesting. Why put something like that down here..." Then Aryia starts speaking, and Telamon's eyes widen. "-What?-" he hisses. "By the gods... we can't leave them down here. Seldan, if we cut through the wall, will that trigger any alarms?" The stink is forgotten now -- he lowers the handkerchief, staring at the wall in horror as if he can see what Aryia did.
The revelation of slaves--sil and half-sil alike--highly disturbs Cor'lana. "That... That's awful," she murmurs, and her eyes turn to Telamon for the revelation, like she's picturing that either one of them--or both--could be among the captive. Separated from each other forever.
Her hand squeezes tightly into a fist. "I don't want to leave them down here, either," she says, keeping quiet only because it's a good idea to be in a place like this.
"Yes, Master Lupecyll-Atlon. That is an alarm spell. I can attempt to dispel it, I think." Seldan answers after several moments of staring.
Critias's shoulders seem to slump a bit more at Aryia's report. He's still been examining the wall though, and now he stiffens. "There's a hidden door," he says suddenly. "There's a lever here, to open it." He reaches a hand forward, almost unconsciously, but then he catches himself and pauses. He glances back at the others almost sheepishly, particularly Seldan. "Ah, when you're all ready, that is."
Aya scowls. More. And now not just from the stench. "The house would be tended by slaves and other servants." They did see some leave, or some who could have been. The talk of magic on the floor and prisons immediately makes her think of- "Could there be an-" and then Critias speaks up " ...entrance..." She keeps back from the magic, though hopefully short of leaning on the far wall. There may be no need to punch through walls, afterall.
Aya dares a deeper breath of the air to warn, "Some of them might not want to leave, if they've known nothing else. Some might raise alarm." A pause. "Not that we're not going in."
As the others give their gasps of horror and disturbed visages, Aryia looks highly jaded. She's been here many times before. "Yes. It's fucking terrible. Welcome to Charn. We're here for information, and busting all these people out may give you something, but mind you it's fucking really hard to get that many people out without someone noticing. So... I leave it up to you all."
She cracks her knuckles. Regardless of the choice, she's here for it. "Sister brings up a good point. Loyalty is rewarded, after all." <Handspeech/Tongues>
Telamon squares his shoulders. "No way to know. Sir Seldan, dispel the alarm. Critias, be ready on the door. We'll go in like we own the place." His expression tightens. "We don't let them raise an alarm either. Hopefully... we can do something on our way out."
Cor'lana steps into position. "I can help with the dispelling if needed," she offers to Seldan, clearly content to let Telamon handle his own plans.
A very small smile that suggests regret and memories comes to Seldan's lips. He raises his hand one more time, and draws several interlinked, complex sigils together in the air before him, their spatial connection quite precise. He speaks a phrase and the sigils burst into violet fire before him. The technique is nothing that any modern mage is taught to use - in fact, it is deprecated and has been for centuries for being risky.
He then speaks a final word of reversal, of negation, stabbing a finger at the line he'd delineated just moments before, and the sigils turn deepest black, coalesce, and seek to pull the magic from that space into themselves, to - consume it.
In a flash, the sigils vanish, and the Silver Guard nods his satisfaction. "It is gone."
GAME: Seldan attempts to cast Detect Magic but fails due to ASF. GAME: Seldan rolls 1d100: (71): 71 GAME: Seldan rolls 1d20+16: (19)+16: 35
Critias keeps an eye on Seldan and the proceedings. It doesn't look remotely like the way he's seen the spell cast...but then Critias isn't one to talk. Finally once he deems the spell complete, he triggers the door.
The door slides open, and everyone is treated to the vision that Aryia had seen before. Rows and rows of cells. Little five-by-five barred rooms. Most with nothing more than a blanket inside - some with less. About a fourth of the rooms are filled with people. The vast majority of whom are elvish or half-elvish by the look of them.
They squint in the light of Seldan's illumination. Most don't even turn toward the open doorway, but rather huddle away from the light as if fearing it. All of them wear collars of some variation. Marks of their slavery. One in twenty seems Makari, and those seem veritably squished in their cells. No one calls out for help, or an alarm. They just... mostly sit there.
-TBC