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[escaped lurker]

Rescue

The outer walls fell over an hour ago. If by the invaders intent, or as a delaying tactic by your compatriots, someone has set the outer district ablaze, flames licking over much of the workshops, residences and other hovels which dotted the area. Billowing clouds of thick, dark-gray smoke tower into the sky, as if to reach the bleak clouds hanging in the winter sky above.
You hasten your hobble along one of the winding inner streets, which meander around the central tower. Cursing your luck. You sure were lucky, only sustaining mild wounds during the retreat, unanimously decided after it became clear that the fortress would fall. After The Lord went down, surrounded, fighting tooth and nail to contain the initial breach. You were not lucky enough though, to flee easily, the deserted streets a telltale sign of you running late. How long until the invaders will swarm these streets, massacring everyone they run into? No matter. As long as you can get into one of the tunnels, you are bound to loose any pursuers, even in your current state – the spiderweb under Ngom'mezspog confusing to anyone who hasn't grown up bellow there.

While hurrying along with the greatest speed possible to you, re-opening barely clotted wounds during the process, you spy some activity ahead. Several men, decked out in greyish armour of iron and lesser steel. Humans. Invaders. A troubling development, as they intercept your previous path, but there is a well in the neighbourhood, and you know that tunnels lead to and fro the reservoir it feeds from. Before the humans can gain on you, and possibly before they notice you, you change course into a side-street leading to your goal.

You manage to make it to the plaza containing the well, before your luck runs out. Standing in the plaza proper, with an arrow knocked on his bow, is one of the accursed long-ears - the isolationist elves somehow convinced by the humans to help in their fight. You should have guessed as much, the humans taking point and finding you first somewhat of a surprise, but them having left the elves to comb the backstreets makes sense.

With over ten steps towards your opponent on a good day, you doubt you would make it in double that number today. More than enough for him to put four arrows or more into your body. Some distant shouts towards your back, inform you that you haven't slipped the attention of the humans either. You are trapped.

The elf, a young man not a day over his first century, decked out in ranger garb denoting his allegiance to the Lawe'Alala forest nation, approaches warily, stopping ten of your current steps out of reach, his face a concentrated scowl. [Alisa], he utters lightly, then a second time with growing strength. Alisa, huh. You remember someone with that name, an almost forgotten memory of over twenty years ago. Diving into those old memories with great effort, you try to pry an answer from them, meanwhile renewing the grip on the bundle held by your wounded, dominant right – and with the same look reassuring yourself that you still have your small dagger tucked into your belt.

[Yelawe], you sound out in melodic syllables which your tongue has grown trouble to pronounce, but the elated look on his face, tells of your success. Right. You vaguely remember visiting your elder cousin in nearby Ramiliwa, a celebration of him being accepted into the local rangers at age fifty. The minimum age, you reckon, and not a common feat either. Meanwhile the young elf has relaxed the draw of his bow, even going as far as quivering the arrow, approaching you with a face lit in joy and relief. Yelawe runs up to you, arms stretched out for the common family hug of the elves, prattling on as he does so -[Alisa, it is you! Were did you get those wounds, what] – only to be interrupted.

[What?], he intones again, his gaze drawn towards his gut, and the bloodied shiv in your hands. With a pained howl, courtesy of the glump-wasp poison you coated the dagger with inflicting him with additional pain, he buckles to his knees, the confusion on his face turning into pained disbelief. [Alisa?] [Not Alisa.] {Zom'Slospo.}, you state to his query, your hand stretching out to guide the knife into a slash towards his throat, your mind already beckoned by the well nearby. Should you risk dropping into the waters bellow? How deep did one have to reach for water here? Can you even reach a shore in your current condition? Your thoughts however are cut short, as suddenly two wooden arrows bore through your left shoulder, nailing you to the wall behind you. You scream out in pain, and are woken by it, soaked in cold sweat, shivering. Your right hand claws at your left shoulder, finding purchase on bare skin, no embedded arrows, no blood, no wound besides the light sting of phantom pain.
A dream.

You close your eyes, drawing a deep breath as to calm your frayed nerves and frantic heart. The odorous mix of ash, metal, and old sweat, calms you before it even reaches into your nostrils. Only to be replaced by the confusing smell of herbs, wood and fruits. A panicked look identifies your surroundings as not the accustomed small room hew into black bedrock, but a room double in size, walls of bark wrought into a tree with druid magic.

Reality sets in. Your demonic master Zuslag has fallen, and Ngom'mezspog with him, the nightmare more of a relived memory, and not the first of its kind. Some of them are from the battle before that, many are of the purge that followed afterwards. After over two decades, your kinsfolk have "rescued" you, only to imprison you once more. "Rehabilitation", they call your current situation, but it is obvious to you that the true goal is to re-educate you. Once more. You fall back into the far-too-soft bed.


A traitor, some of them call you behind your back and cupped hands. None of them seemingly have the backbone to claim it to your face. You are not surprised. The claim though, you find rather rich. Rich indeed - in hypocrisy, mostly.

By your best guesses – recently validated by local scribes and extended family – you were about ten when some goblins from Ngom'mezspog raided your native village. Truth be told, you didn't think much about what happened in the months afterwards until recently, nor do you intend to dwell on it. What you do remember, is that your captors punished wrong-think and rebellious behaviour from their slaves rather harshly. By leaking a flight-plan of your fellow slaves, one which was doomed from the outset, you were easily able to lay off that label, trading the lash and gruelling work, for nutritious gruel and bits of flesh. A worthy trade.

You'd like to claim that you were treated "just as badly" as the common goblin, but that would be a bit of a lie. As things were, the higher-ups and populace at large, rather liked to see integrated citizens from other races, a notion supporting their claims of superiority. With elven citizens being especially rare a sight, you even got preferential treatment at times.


During your stay in Doomspire, you were shuffled around various worksites, the local goblins effort to funnel their people into a calling in which they might excel at.
You were apprenticed to four different fields, about five years in each.

These jobs are held by common workers and warriors, and have aroused little suspicion nor contempt from your new captors. Additional suspicion and contempt, that is. Chose up to four at your leisure. Military Service Nigh mandatory for all goblin citizens at some point of their youth, you were taught how to handle the shortsword, spear, shield and bow. Discipline, walking and fighting in formation, as well as minor tasks that would need doing in a war-camp, or during a campaign, was also drilled into you. Beast Carer Goblins, being of diminutive stature, like to field a plethora of aggressive, and often subterranean and or malign beasts. Due to your elven heritage, you proved a natural aptitude with these creatures, allowing you to train and command them with relative ease. Alchemy While most other races keep such profession to herbs and healing remedies, the goblin version of the craft also deals with how to inflict the opposite. Various weaponized cocktails of poisonous plants and venomous secretions, drafts for weakening or torturing, and similar were also taught to you. Smithing With mines manned by slave labour, the fortress had a steady supply of ore – far more than the willing or enslaved dwarves could get ahead of. The irony of a normally wood-loving elf smithing with embers of coal, was not lost on the fortress. You know how to smith conventional weapons and armour, of up to lesser steel. Leatherworker Many of the fielded war-beasts, and goblin society itself, dines primarily on meat, grown in underground pastures. With leather seldomly scare, leatherworking is one of the mainstays of most goblin societies. You are learned in making armour, clothes and commonly used odds and ends made of leather, and know how to employ a variety of tanning techniques as well. Bone Carving Goblins in general, but in particular those of Doomspire, are somewhat enamoured with bone carvings, valuing artistically crafted cutlery over works of metal. Many of their tools, or straight works of decorative art, are also often made of bone, and similar materials. You yourself, have grown quite competent at producing such goods. Entertainer No, not that kind. Get your filthy mind out of the gutter. You were a servant for the tower residents proper; upper military, warlocks, goblins of note as well as guests. You are skilled with the bone flute, goblin harp, at singing & dancing and know goblin & orc etiquette. Stitcher With goblins a martial society, and no shortage of enemies, it should come as no surprise that their medical knowledge is quite advanced. You learned how to dress and suture wounds, set bones, burn out haemorrhaging wounds, and generally care for the wounded. Scout Due to your natural aptitudes, you were given the fast track for scouting duties. You are able to swim and travel over rough terrain, and also know your way around the upper caverns. Reading tracks, setting up traps and ambushes, as well as fighting at range, was also part of your duties.

These are jobs a cut above the common rabble, who would not be attained by someone "under the yoke" of Ngom'mezspog. Having performed such duties brands you as a goblin sympathizer, and greatly increases any resentment or suspicions levelled at you by your new captors. Ranked by severity of your perceived "crimes". Should you dare to do so, choose up to two. Slave Driver Highly coveted by many goblins, the position of slave driver was given to you with relative ease. Your task was to  oversee and discipline groups of slaves, most of which found someone born as an elf fulfilling this task rather irksome. You have grown quite adept at using a whip, be it for inflicting pain or combat, and employing lesser forms of physical and psychological torture. Officer You were hand-picked for a leading position in the army, learning about tactics, strategy and logistics. While you never laid claim to a position which could order such, you certainly lead several small raids and acts of banditry – and those which survived them, remember as much. Requires you to have performed "Military Service". Diplomat Showcasing their integrated non-goblin citizens, is quite in line with goblin goals. You served as assistant to several delegations, and have learned much about the way of courts and politics. While greatly disadvantaged by the destruction of Ngom'mezspog, you are sure to be remembered by a number of other goblin and orc functionaries. Requires you to have performed "Entertainer" duties. Torturer Goblin society tends to be quite fond of torture, and Doomspire was no different. If as punishment, for extraditing information, or simple amusement of the gathered observers, you plied your bloody craft quite openly, being busy more often than not. Requires you to have performed "Stitcher" duties. Infiltrator Elves seldomly leave their forest retreats, and most do not do so without reason. While highly conspicuous in a sense, their motives aren't given as much scrutiny. Mention some magical beast on the loose, and gates open readily, important people receive you at once. You assassinated the local mage or leader, or even opened gates for a raiding party waiting outside, on more than one occasion. Requires you to have performed "Scout" duties. Warlock You dimly remember wanting to become a druid as a child – a notion your parents seemed supportive of. Your apparent natural talent with magic was also noted by your new people, leading to you being taught much of the corruptive, demonic, bloody magic employed by goblins. Your training took ten years, and your captors are downright repulsed by one of "their kin" being a warlock. (Counts as two choices)

The choices should be clear - choose up to 4 different fields in which you were employed, no more than two of them from the right. Only three in total, and one from the right, if you wish to go for the magic.

Well then, let's see how you lot like this particular Idea. I always found the implications of goblins snatching children, and rearing them as one of their own as interesting - so here you have a game based on such musings.

[HugeNerdAndProudOfIt]

Military, Alchemy, Warlock.

[thatroleplayerGal]

Stitcher, Beast Carer, Bone Carver, Slave Driver, Torturer

[Pavellius]

Military Service, Beast Tamer, Scout, Infiltrator

[Maximum Spin]

Scout, entertainer, infiltrator, diplomat!

[FallacyofUrist]

Military, Alchemy, Warlock.

+1

[VoidSlayer]

Military Service -> Officer , Beast Carer , Stitcher

[Maximum Spin]

The age-old problem of too many choices = no consensus ever, haha.

I'll add another +1 to this:

Military, Alchemy, Warlock.

just so we don't spend eternity at the selection stage.

[King Zultan]

Military, Alchemy, Warlock.

+1

+1

[escaped lurker]

Spoiler: Specifics (click to show/hide)

Name: Alisa Zom'Slospo
Age: 32
Race: Elf Ideologic Goblin

Possessions: Currently None

Skills

Expert: /
Skilled: Language (Goblin Speech, Goblin Script, Elven Speech - Rusty)
Competent: Warlock (Ritualism, Fell-Weaving, Curses), Alchemy (Poison Brewing, Blight Brewing), Fighting (Short-Bow, Formation Combat)
Trained: Warlock (Enchanting, Pyromancy), Alchemy (Potion Brewing, Knowledge – Subterranean Reagents, Knowledge – Tainted Reagents) Fighting (Spear, 1H-Sword, Shield, Light Armour), Misc (Deception, Pain Tolerance, Butchery, Knowledge – Humanoid Anatomy)
Beginner: Language (Elven Script – Ext. Rusty), Misc - Tactics

Inherent Abilities & Traits

Elven Dusk-Sight: During night-time, you are able to see half as far as during the day.
Brand of Zuslag: A mark of servantship to your Lord, which marginally connected you to the great demon. Increased your competency for Fell-Weaving while he was alive. Could be used by him to inflict damage on ones soul. Proudly worn on your face.
Corrupted Eyes: A benign mutation which allows you to subtly see magic, and a few steps in absolute darkness.
Minor Corruption: You were gifted a few drops of blood from your Lord – 3 to be exact - which increases your aptitude towards Fell-Weaving and shields you from its corruption.

In truth you should have known that a ranger would not act alone, especially so in an active combat zone. While you personally blame your blood-loss for why things went wrong, you doubt that opinion would earn you any sympathies, and thus have kept it to yourself.

The five-man team of rangers your cousin was part of apparently noticed you before you slipped into the alleyways, and had you neatly surrounded when you arrived at the plaza. As for your cousin, he rightly remarked that you reminded him of, well, yourself, and thus was given the task of facing you down.

For what it is worth, Yelawe has recovered nicely, the poison on your dagger known for the immediate pain it causes, and not much else. Neither did your blade strike any vitals, the available gaps in the ranger armour there for the sake of mobility, and seemingly well-placed.


In stark contrast to your cousin, the other rangers were quick to identify you as a warlock. There are a number of things that could have ticked them off, like the brand covering a good part of your face, the magical focus around your wrist, or the contents of your pack – filled with some rather dubious spell reagents and items.

Why they decided to carry two wounded out of that plaza and to the druids instead of one, is somewhat surprising for you even now. Not, that you complain about it though. The reasons that have been given to you, are mainly about your age, and the younger age you were taken at. While elves only consider themselves as a full adult at half a century, you find that reasoning to be very lacklustre. Time will tell about their true intentions, provided there are any further ones involved.


Trying to kill one of your would-be rescuers still has served to make your overall reception rather frosty, with you being kept under guarded confinement for the whole time - even when the druids attended to your shoulder, and your other, far less serious wounds. On that matter, you were advised to not strain your right arm for the next two months, as not all damage was completely cured.

A few days after the deciding day of the two-week long siege, most of the troops drawn from the eastern border and several regiments from other regions, were sent back there – fearing the possibility of remnants attacking the region out of revenge. While most of them took the forest-paths on elk-back, you and the other rescues went via carriages on the established roads. A three-week trip, all in all, during which not much of note happened.

For their part, the former elven slaves which survived the pits regard you with contempt, but there is also a lot of bad blood between themselves. Enough so, that some of them have taken justice upon themselves, murdering one of their number. Needless to say, none of the military were pleased, resulting in more companions for your guarded carriage.

Of some interest during the ride back “home”, is Urar'Stonu. The nineteen year old elf was born in the slave pits – a rare occurrence, seeing as slaves are segregated by gender, but it seems his deceased mother was already expecting before her capture. Immediately adopted out of the pits, he has lived in the fortress and the tunnels underneath for all of his life. He is currently not able – or willing – to speak even a single lick of elvish.
While you doubt he will be given any more freedom than you in the foreseeable future, especially with the rebellious attitude he portrayed, the young beast-carer made for good company during the trip. That he showed suitable reverence, if not admiration for your position, might have played a hand in that. He also has made no secret of it that he thoroughly despises “the slave” which has claimed biological fatherhood over him, even to that ones face. Not a surprising view for a goblin.


All of that leaves you back in your quarters, given to you short of a week ago, a part of the local barracks. The bare-bones private room is completely voided of any cutlery after each of your meals, nor is there anything to be found that could even remotely serve as an improvised weapon. Safe, maybe, the chamber pot. You'd rather not take your chances solely armed with it.
Light streams in through a series of small, grated windows – all to small to fit through, and too far apart to force out a segment of the wood between them. The only exit of the room has a reinforced door, which can only be opened from the outside, and a keen-eared guard posted outside. The mana-sapping shackles made out of some sort of enchanted, living greenery that you are forced to wear, complete your current situation. Truth be told you very much feel like a prisoner of war, rather than the rescue they claim you as.
A rescue, that they still plan on judging, with today being your first hearing.


After breakfast – a dreary affair devoid of meat, but filled with fruits and other bounties of the forest – some armed guards lead you to a sitting room of the barracks, where an official attendant of the local lawspeaker has set himself up.

Spread out along two tables, are the belongings you had on yourself during your capture, leading you to guess that they will become the first part of your hearing. During the trip, it was alluded to you by several of the soldiers that spilling information and secrets that you may hold would be sure to appease the authorities, and lessen any sentence that they might damn you to. Why they would allude to something so obvious, another thing which is lost on you.
While you are rather unsure about giving up your loyalty all that quickly, giving them “a bone or two”, might be worth what little trouble it would be.


Your former Belongings, Their Uses and Secrets

4 Runic Hearts, Shrivel-dried, Spell Reagent:	- War-Time Supplies handed to you for the siege, most likely taken from deceased slaves, enemy soldiers or victims of raidings. - Was used in your task to cast weakening curses, targeted at range, temporarily weakening the afflicted ones hearts. - Needs a simple spell-circle, drawn onto or into the ground, as to be cast. - Immediately after casting, the afflicted goblins - though affected to a lesser degree due to their nature - would normally pull back, as to make place for a fresh charge team, intent on overwhelming the enemy line. - Fresher hearts after a bit of preparation, and those taken from the young, can be used for greater effects. - If targeted at a single person, this curse may “temporarily” stop their heart completely. Which results in death for most creatures.
Fellreach Crystal, Major Magical Item - Missing:	- With warlocks receiving mercy rather unheard off, they like to keep a final, suicidal gambit at hand. - Activating the crystal would flood the intermediate area with fell flames, effectively killing the user and anybody near them – unless they are a demon, which wouldn't be affected at all. - Crafted for you by your master, you don't know how it was produced. - Based on some clues, you are somewhat confident that a sentient sacrifice was used in the process.
Several Assorted Ear-Rings, some enchanted:	- Most of these ear-rings have been chosen based on your personal taste, and enchanted afterwards. -Most of these enchantments don't do much - if anything - besides providing a visually pleasing diversion. - One of them has been enchanted with a “Ringing” enchantment by your master, who also keeps its twin. They allow rudimentary communication with pre-determined signals, if within a two-mile radius of each other.
Spell Focus, Minor Magical Item:	- Centred around a purple ruby, set into a decorated circle of black silver. Normally attached to your right wrist. - Eases the channelling of magic, especially outside of rituals. - Safe for the materials used being compatible with your magic, and the focus being enchanted to further augment this, it is a rather simple construct, not unlike other users of magic tend to carry.
Copper Flask, Halfway filled with Troll-Blood, Spell Reagent:	- Useful for a number of rituals, and to paint their circles. - An anti-coagulant agent was used to keep it useful for an extended period of time. - Blood is a common reagent for warlocks, with fell magic flowing through it easier than most other materials.
Bloodsteel Dagger, “Screamer” Enchantment – Silencing Effect, uncharged:	- You nabbed the dagger from an officers corpse during the retreat. - Worth at least twice its weight in Gold, which is why you took it when it presented itself. - Bloodsteel is made from the iron gathered from distilled blood. You don't know the exact method. - The “Screamer” enchantment produces a silencing effect. - Bloodsteel holds curse-based enchantments especially well, being a cursed material itself. - The enchantment can be recharged if the dagger is drowned in blood for a few hours - the more magic inherent in the blood, the quicker.
Assorted Odds and Ends – Not particularly incriminating, if at all:	- Glump-Wasp Poison – Held in a porcelain bottle, likely spoiled - Crystal Dust – Spell Reagent, used in some rituals. - Bone Meal – Spell Reagent, made from animal bones. - Healing Salve – Of your own making. Not your best work either, but good enough. - Bandages – Which you didn't end up using. Some are bloodstained either way. - Field Rations – Smoked Rutherer, a fine treat. Not given out to the rank & file. - Doomspire Coins – Over six big silver all in all. Not much, just day-to-day change. - A change of Robes – They left your blood on it. Completely ruined. Oh well.

You have a pretty good guess as to what information should be Uncommon, and if you want to appease your captors, you might want to reveal such things.
Giving out Secrets though, would be betraying your allegiance to your Lord – temporarily deceased he might be.
You could also leave out any confidential information, or not co-operate at all. What's the worst these long-ears would be willing to do to you?

How do you plan to approach your hearing? What - if any - information are you willing to share?

Well, that took a good deal longer than I thought it should, but I'm more or less happy with how I set things up.
Tying the entry and exit scenes of the first turn together, all the while advancing the plot and not being too bloated with it, gave me more difficulties than I care to admit.

[HugeNerdAndProudOfIt]

Share: What the Runic Hearts, Fell Reach crystal, Spell Focus, Bloodsteel Dagger, and Troll blood is. That the Dagger can be recharged. Hold everything else back unless directly questioned about it. Emphasize that we did not use our "panic button" of the crystal.

[Weirdsound]

Share: What the Runic Hearts, Fell Reach crystal, Spell Focus, Bloodsteel Dagger, and Troll blood is. That the Dagger can be recharged. Hold everything else back unless directly questioned about it. Emphasize that we did not use our "panic button" of the crystal.

+1, Especially that last bit.

[Pavellius]

Share: What the Runic Hearts, Fell Reach crystal, Spell Focus, Bloodsteel Dagger, and Troll blood is. That the Dagger can be recharged. Hold everything else back unless directly questioned about it. Emphasize that we did not use our "panic button" of the crystal.

Does this mean we would divulge secrets if we were questioned about them? Except for that possibility, I support this plan.

[HugeNerdAndProudOfIt]

Share: What the Runic Hearts, Fell Reach crystal, Spell Focus, Bloodsteel Dagger, and Troll blood is. That the Dagger can be recharged. Hold everything else back unless directly questioned about it. Emphasize that we did not use our "panic button" of the crystal.

Does this mean we would divulge secrets if we were questioned about them? Except for that possibility, I support this plan.

No secrets or uncommon knowledge without it being another group decision, but anything else.