Meanwhile...

[mb.]

Aziza, you were very right to start playing, and I apologize for leaving you hanging so long - I expected the boys to mop up four gnolls a bit quicker than they did. Let's use this thread for getting you up to speed, and for any future parallel action. Also, I already have a bit of an idea of what's up in the dungeon, and am a bit new to DW GMing, so if it's okay with, let's ignore what you wrote before and go from here, okay?

Everybody else is free to read along of course, just remember that your characters don't know any of what goes on here.

Aziza, when the gnolls took you in the forest, you and your not so merry band were about to enter the cave marked on the crude map given to you by Count Contegus' agent.

How did they manage to overpower and subdue you?

They brought you down to this stinking hole and when you regained your senses, everything except your filthy, torn clothing was gone. It took two days before they brought you some foul smelling food and oily water, which you happily left to your companions.

What has stopped you from shape shifting or using your magic to escape?

As your companions disappeared one by one, the dull roar of a waterfall you've never seen has become your constant companion, and wafts of fresh spray occasionally reach you from somewhere nearby. In this degrading pit, knowing that, despite it all, nature's cleansing power is still ever present has kept your spirits and strength up. You imagine, or perhaps know, that the waterfall speaks in your dreams.

What secret of these ancient caves has it told you?

[Kanye Westeros]

How did they manage to overpower and subdue you?

They snuck up on my group in the dark of night, and took advantage of the fact that one of my own group had decided to try killing me in my sleep. We were caught by surprise and they outnumbered us by a lot to one.

What has stopped you from shape shifting or using your magic to escape?

There's this one Gnoll, not bulky with muscle like the others, this one is lean, almost like its starving, its fur gone grey white and missing in big patches, revealing disconcerting scars and tattooes of strange design that hurt my head to look at. It wore robes made of animal hides which displayed more of these same symbols. It's eyes were the milky white of the obviously blind, but it moved with the confidence of one who could see perfectly well.

The big Alpha with the silver chain that I had originally thought was their leader, bowed submissively to this ancient one.

As we were brought in, the Ancient One's gaze bored straight into me. It held up its hands weaving them in a complex pattern above me and generating a sickly yellow glow which settled upon me and smelled of decay and death. It spoke with a rasp like sand over stone, "Skinwalker, Spirit-caller. I see you. I bind you. When the master comes, you will be eaten first. But until then, my children shall have their fun."

And, for the first time in my life, I was entirely alone. No whispering buzz of the spirits talking, nothing. The real tortures began from there.

What secret of these ancient caves has it told you?

That the spreading darkness I was sent to find in these caves cannot be stopped by force of arms, or magic, but only slowed down by them. the only way this darkness will cease is through Divine Intervention, and that the Spirits have not forgotten me, and very soon, my salvation will arrive.

[mb.]

The blind, scarred, tattooed gnoll introduced himself the first time you saw him, shortly after casting the spell, "You are clearly unlike your companions," he said in a wheezing voice, but with flawless enunciation, unlike every other gnoll you've encountered, "You obviously can think, which I find entertaining. I believe we will get to know each other, at least until The Master needs you. I am Grezz, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He offered his hand, well clear of your reach, and chuckled.

Every day after that, he has come to visit you and have a little chat. You always hear him before you see him, shuffling slowly along the corridor and wheezing. He brings a small wooden stool, and sits out of reach beyond the bars. The first time he visited you, he slid a small twist of clean blue cloth across the floor to where you could reach it, bulging with something inside. "Please, you may enjoy these."

What do you do?

[Kanye Westeros]

I respond the same way I have every other time this mangy cur has visited me, I lunge at the bars of the cage and spit at Grezz. Sometimes I hit him and sometimes not, it's petty, but after the pain and torment I've suffered, I'll take petty.

"Go chase yourself, fleabag." I snarl before sitting back down in the center of the cell, the old mystic clearly wants me to reach for the blue cloth, and I'm just as clearly not going to give him the satisfaction. Friend Waterfall spoke to me of impending freedom, and I comfort myself with the thought. And the thought of how dearly Grezz will regret what he's done to me. Ur'Kaleen do not forget or forgive captivity...

[mb.]

Grezz, sitting out of reach, chuckles at your aggression. "With time little one, perhaps you will want something sweet after all." He drags the small blue bundle over with his foot, unwraps it, and holds up a beautifully made hard candy, like you'd find in the best confectioner's shop in Urbem, and pops it in his mouth. "We both have time, and I see no reason we cannot spend it pleasantly." He shrugs and despite your aggression asks, "what is it like where you come from?"

His daily visits mean you have time to study him, which may prove useful. The first thing you realise is that every gnoll you've seen so far, even the alpha, is wearing a tight chain of an odd silvery metal around his neck, except Grezz. He does however have something similar: three long, thick links, connected to form a triangle. He often holds it as he talks and strokes it slowly with his thumb. It is also readily apparent that, although his eyes seem blind, he moves like someone who can see.

[Kanye Westeros]

Where I come from should not concern you nearly as much as where I'm going... I respond glaring at his dead eyes. When I get out of here, I am going to drink your blood, and slaughter every other gnoll within miles of here.

[mb.]

He chuckles as usual at your threats from such a helpless position, picks up his stool, and shuffles away.

Every day, despite your rebuffs, he comes and asks questions...
"Have you been to the Scholae Universitas? Have you seen the library?"
"I would so love to see the sea. Have you seen the sea?"
"I've heard that the Fortress of the Fey holds some strange holy power. What do you know about that?"
"Your people, the Ur'Kaleen, correct? You have a reputation for aggression, and you are clearly no exception. What do you think made you all that way?"
"Tell me about Count Contegus? Is he what you'd call a good man?"
"Have you heard of the Demon Star? Would you like to see it?"

But I'm assuming he gets a similar response every day?

[Kanye Westeros]

But I'm assuming he gets a similar response every day?

More or less. Each day's threat is delivered with greater or lesser creativity and vulgarity. Coming up with a new threat is one of the little games I play to keep from going utterly mad. One of my personal favorites was the time I told him I'd turn into a maggot and eat him from the inside out starting with his least vital organs first so as to keep him alive for as long as possible while I did so. Then there was the time I told him I'd wear his head as a hat and his balls for earrings.

I also enjoy listing the things I'm gonna do once I get back to Urbem with some serious coin, drinking a brewery dry is currently topping the list.

[mb.]

Grezz is obviously patient and curious enough that he comes every day, ask his questions, smiles a little at your threats, and shuffles away.

The gnoll you've come to think of as the Idiot Turnkey stopped bringing food after they took the last of your companions away - you obviously won't eat and don't seem to need to anyway - so it's hard not to look forward to Grezz's visits, the only contact with another being that you get down here. Time doesn't have much meaning any more, but Grezz always seems to come not long after you wake up, so he and the ever present hiss of the waterfall are your only constants.

Last night as you slept fitfully, a rough jab in the ribs woke you. By flickering torch light you could make out two gnolls - one hunched and scarred, the other tall and long-limbed - poking spear butts through the bars. You know these two. They come down at random times to taunt you and piss into your cell, laughing their barking laugh all the while. This time things are slightly different: when they came down the corridor talking loudly, you half woke. When the spear butt jabs you, you're awake.

What do you do?

[Kanye Westeros]

I pretend I'm still asleep until they reach the cage, these two jackasses are whispering conspiratorily at each other. I'm laying in such a way that my back is facing them and they can't see my face or hands. I try not to tense for the poke I know is coming.

I hold my breath, waiting for the telltale scrape of wood on iron that tells me the spear's blunt end is coming. finally I hear the sound, I push off the ground with all my strength, spinning in the air to land on the spear shaft, pinning it to the floor. I grip it in my hands and yank it out of the surprised Gnoll's hands.
Surprise, you Skark Faradus!*

Defying Danger +STR to grab a spear as it's jabbed through the bars, and stab the pointy end at its wielder.
Defy Danger[2d6+2] = 9+2 = 11
Next I will Defend myself as I try to find a way out of the cage (and renew my connection with the Spirits).
Defend [2d6+1] = 8+1 = 9 Hold-1
*Skark Faradus is a hard to translate term, but it is highly insulting and referring to one's parentage between barnyard animals and vermin.

[mb.]

Hold your horses a minute. You described four moves – grab, stab, defend, spirits – but rolled two. Let's take "grab a spear as it's jabbed through the bars" – and I assume "rip it out of the gnoll's hands"? – as your Defy Danger move, the danger being "get jabbed with the spear." Okay?

Taking the long-limbed gnoll completely by surprise, you roll and pin his spear to the ground just as the jab would've landed. A combination of your weight and him jumping backwards in shock knock the spear loose from his grasp. The tip's still hanging out of the bars of your cell, but you've got your hands firmly on the haft.

Let's take your second roll as a 9 for Hack and Slash, to attack the gnoll whose spear you've got. Please roll your damage.

[Kanye Westeros]

Oh, whoops. Good catch I wrote that post while half distracted from other stuff, damage roll incoming.
damage[1d6] = 5

With a practiced economy of motion, I thrust out with the gnoll spear, its spearhead striking and returning in the blink of an eye...

The "renew contact with spirits" thing was more meant as fictional flavor and a statement of intent for once I get out of the cage (assuming the cage was the focus for Grezz' spell severing my connection in the first place )

[mb.]

It takes a while in PbP to find the right rhythm. If you roll and then just skip ahead to your next roll, especially if you roll 9 or less, I have essentially lost a chance to make a move. Even if you roll 10+, I need time to progress the fiction in reaction to your success. Can we agree that from now on, no more than one roll for a move per post unless otherwise asked for? But go ahead and roll your damage in the same post on an attack roll of 7+ of course.

If you skip ahead I can either drop it, making things probably a bit boring for you, or retcon it, and we all hate retcons. But in this case, since we're still practicing how this works, let's rewind. So you stab the gnoll...

His face quickly goes from shock to pain as you stab the spear into his ribs. As you pull the spear back, an angry snarl appears as he growls and grabs the spear, jerking as hard as he can and pulling you off balance to slam against the bars! Take [1d6] = 1 damage.

What now?

[Kanye Westeros]

sounds good!

I turn at the last moment so I take the brunt of the impact on my shoulder. I maintain my grip and jerk right back on the spearshaft.

[mb.]

Tug o' War! Roll to Defy Danger again with STR, the danger being "the gnoll rips the spear out of my hands".

[Kanye Westeros]

I twist my hips and apply all the leverage I can, but the gnoll has the size and weight advantage, plus not being in a cage...
Defy Danger [2d6+2] = 4+2 = 6

[mb.]

The smaller, hunched gnoll stabs his spear through the bars, scoring your forearm. Take [1d8] = 3 damage. Blood spurts over your hands, and the spear is suddenly too slick to keep a grip on. The taller gnoll whips it out of your cell, overbalances, and slams into the wall behind him, slumping to sit on the floor, panting. The hunched one backs off, waving his spear at you from beyond the bars, as the tip drips your blood.

Just then you hear Grezz's raspy voice say, "tut tut, we can't be treating The Master's property thus, now can we?" The two speargnolls immediately back up to stand against the wall, spears standing by their sides, staring at the floor. Grezz shuffles into view.

[Kanye Westeros]

With a snarl I leap to the back of the cage, for a moment I seem more animal than person, my eyes piercing the shadows of my cage as I stare hate and death. I clutch my arm to put pressure on the wound.

[mb.]

Grezz smiles through the bars, "ah, I see it's just a scratch. No harm done."

He turns with a shuffle, and wipes a finger across the hunched gnoll's spear tip, coming away coated in your blood. He turns back to face you, "not long now, little one. You will meet The Master soon, and your suffering will be over. You will go to a far more wonderful place." As he speaks he rubs your blood into the chain triangle he always carries, and the blood is... absorbed? His blind eyes begin to glow faintly with an unwholesome red light, "sleep now little one. It will be so much easier on you..."

What do you do?

[Kanye Westeros]

You're right about one thing, P'tak. It won't be long now, I will escape this cage, and I will slaughter you all, I will build a pyre of your bodies and I will immolate you. I will inhale the smoke and own your death. I growl out through the pain of my arm.
My emotions get the best of me and I surge forward, kicking the bars of the cage over and over and over in a rage.