SlyJohnny
 

Captured by the drow! You wouldn't wish this fate upon anyone, yet here you are—locked in a dark cave, the cold, heavy weight of metal tight around your throat and wrists. You are not alone. Other prisoners are trapped in here with you, in an underground outpost far from the light of the sun.

This small cave which serves as the outpost's slave pen is closed with a heavy iron gate bolted into the stone. Ten other prisoners were already here when Sefton Goldentail first arrived a tenday ago, mostly fellow unfortunates captured during various raids and likewise awaiting transportation to Menzoberranzan. Only the deep gnome Jimjar and the shield dwarf Eldeth speak Common fluently enough to have a conversation, with the orc Ront knowing enough Common words to berate and insult. Val, Kaelen, Sneldrug, Thorak and Elena were brought here in ones or twos since then. Some of you can expect to be sold as slaves, while others await death at the hands of the drow or their pets.

The prisoners are provided with clay chamber pots, and one of the duties of slaves is to empty them into the pool during their shift. There are no other comforts in the slave pen. Prisoners must sit or lie on the stone floor, and are fed only once each day—a thin mushroom broth served in small clay bowls passed through gaps in the bars of the gate. A small patch of violet phosphorescent fungi at the very back of the cave provides a shadowy, inadequate illumination over the space.

The drow outpost is located high in a cavern, built 100 feet above the rocky floor. The outpost consists of a series of small caves in the cavern walls and four "hanging towers"—hollowed-out stalactites connected by walkways, stairs, and rope bridges. The towers are concealed by the thick webs of giant spiders stretched below them, so that only the lowermost parts of the stalactites are visible from the cavern floor. The muffled roar of a small waterfall pouring into the cavern creates a constant background noise, negating the cave's tendency to amplify and carry sounds.

Your captors include a cruel drow priestess who calls herself Mistress Ilvara of House Mizzrym. Over the past several days, you've met her several times, robed in silken garments and flanked by two male drow, one of whom has a mass of scars along one side of his face and neck. Mistress Ilvara likes to impress her will with scourge in hand and remind you that your life now belongs to her. "Accept your fate, learn to obey, and you may survive." Her words echo in your memory, even as you plot your escape.

 
 Spoiler: Fellow Prisoners 
  
 Buppido 
A male derro, Buppido is surprisingly gregarious and talkative, demonstrating a keen mind and easy eloquence.

 Derendil 
This hulking quaggoth is the most menacing-looking prisoner in the slave pens, and the other prisoners give him a wide berth.

 Eldeth Feldrun 
A female shield dwarf  from Gauntlgrym, Eldeth presents as high spirited and defiant of her captors.

 
 Jimjar 
A male deep gnome, Jimjar is a feckless rogue with a devil-may-care attitude.

 Ront 
A male orc from the Iceshield tribe, Ront is mean, stupid, and hateful, especially towards Eldeth, as his tribe is at war with her people.

 Sarith Kzekarit 
A male drow, Sarith is sullen and keeps to himself, rebuffing attempts to talk to him.

 
 Shuushar the Awakened 
A kuo-toa, Shuushar is likely to be one of the more unusual creatures any of you have met. This aquatic hermit is a calm and peaceful presence.

 Stool 
This myconid sprout  normally hunches in a damp corner of the pen and remains still, seeming lonely and frightened, especially of Sarith.

 Topsy and Turvy 
Twin deep gnomes, Topsy and her brother Turvy are originally from Blingdenstone in the Underdark. Like most other svirfneblin, Topsy has a stringy mop of hair while Turvy only has a few tufts of hair atop his otherwise bald head. Topsy is by far the more social of the two. Turvy constantly mumbles and mutters darkly, with Topsy repeating or translating what her brother says.
 
Hbgplayer
Thorak wakes from his restless sleep with a quiet groan. His stomach rumbles, the poor excuse of a broth long gone.

  My aching head, and empty stomach!   Thorak thinks to himself glumly, without opening his eyes.

As quietly as he can manage, he rolls to his knees and bends over, quietly murmurs his daily prayers to Moradin, silently cursing the drow again for taking his holy symbol.

  From Moradin I receive all glories, amen.   As he finishes his chant, his eye again catches the phosphorescent fungi at the back of the cell.

  Hmm, I wonder if that will help me summon some light, when the time comes?  
Dr.Samurai
      
  Val Victor 
  Human Fighter 1 
 AC:  11  | HP:  12/12  | HD:  1/1
 Str:  +4  |   Dex:  +1  | Con:  +4  | Int:  +0  | Wis:  +1  | Cha:  +1
 PP:  11  |   PIn:  13  |   PInv:  10
 Second Wind:  1/1
 Inspiration:  0/1
 Conditions:  --   
 
  
Val sits leaning against the cave wall. He hums a tune quietly to himself, though his thoughts are on Mortimer, and if he was able to find help before succumbing to his wounds. Val did not have time to check the knight before sending him away. He thinks he hears someone murmuring and stops humming, looking around in the near total darkness, but can't determine what it was. It has been nine days since he was brought here, and he hasn't made much headway with the others. He decides to change that. He looks around the cave but the lit fungus in the back is hardly enough to decipher who the silhouetted forms are. He is sure he can make out Ront and Derendil. He whispers into the darkness,  The dwarves that were captured, where are you? 
Janwin
 Sneldrug Fossilgrinder 
  Deep Gnome Bard 1 
 AC:  13  | HP:  10/10  | HD:  1/1
 Str:  -1  |   Dex:  +5  | Con:  +2  | Int:  -1  | Wis:  +0  | Cha:  +5
 PP:  10  |   PIn:  12  |   PInv:  9
 Bardic Inspiration:  3/3 (d6)
 Inspiration:  0/1
 Conditions:  --  

Thus far, Sneldrug has largely kept to himself.  It was better to go through these days unnoticed than to draw attention to oneself and earn the wrath of the drow that temporarily called themselves his captors.  Let the dwarves or the orc draw their wrath instead; that should be quite easy for them.

He has taken note of everyone who has arrived and left in the 7 days of his imprisonment, keeping a mental inventory of who might be useful for his escape and who might not be.  Ironically, all of his kin have thus far landed in the "who might not be" category; his race was already rather self-focused, and these all seemed to be prime examples of individuals who would likely cut and run as soon as the going got bad leaving him holding the tab.

Dwarves are supposedly honorable, and often love self-sacrifice.  Two of them here, and that one even looks like he's praying.

The orc, the quaggoth or that cat-man could likely cause quite the distraction.

There's a few humans too.  One of whom looks pretty strong, so either a laborer or a warrior; he'll have to figure that out before he knows how he might use that one.

But for now, without the full plan having come together, it was time to observe some more.
SlyJohnny
 Thorak  murmurs his prayers to Moradin, knowing the wisdom of being quiet. Sometimes the drow guards adopt the attitude of pious fundamentalists when it suits them, and harassing a prisoner over their reverence of an alien deity is as good as entertainment as any available here.

The moss does seem like it would be a suitable component for a light spell, but the patch is near the top of the 10 foot high cave wall.

Eldeth had been staring at her hands when  Val 's voice calls out softly, and she looks up at hearing his voice.   “Aye? What do you want of me, human?”  She shuffles over to sit next to him in the dark.  “I never got your name. I am Eldeth Feldrun.”  She murmurs softly, casting a glance towards the door, wary of the guards outside. The derro sitting the other side of Val also glances up as he speaks, but says nothing.

 Sneldrug  considers his fellow prisoners. Some of them seem like they're waiting for an opportunity too: Eldeth seems the least beaten down of all the prisoners, and he's noticed Jimjar watching the guards with a calculating expression when he thinks they're not looking. Many of the others seem erratic and unreliable, but might still have useful information or combat prowess to lend to an escape attempt; the quaggoth Derendel is the obviously largest and most formidable-seeming presence here, with sharp claws and a more towering frame than even the leonin, but he fidgets and mumbles to himself in what seems like Elvish, whenever he's not pacing around like a caged tiger. Sarith seems to get treated with an odd sense of familiarity and disdain by the other drow, as if they knew of him previously. Some of the surfacers here- more recent captives, like Sneldrug himself- seem like they're keeping themselves alert, too.

 Kaelen  considers his chamber pot. About once a day, the prisoners are removed from the pen and set to chores around the outpost, sometimes degrading make-work, sometimes things like filling water barrels from the waterfall or emptying the chamber pots into the pool it feeds into, far below. Normally three or four slaves are charged with emptying the entire groups at once. It's been a couple of days since anyone has been set to do this, and the rank odor of sixteen chamber pots that have been serving a diverse group of humanoid creatures on a poor diet is an unpleasant undertone to the smell of the damp cave.

He's reasonable sure he could cast those spells he's prepared that only have verbal components, despite the restraints, but he hasn't tried yet.
Dr.Samurai
      
  Val Victor 
  Human Fighter 1 
 AC:  11  | HP:  12/12  | HD:  1/1
 Str:  +4  |   Dex:  +1  | Con:  +4  | Int:  +0  | Wis:  +1  | Cha:  +1
 PP:  11  |   PIn:  13  |   PInv:  10
 Second Wind:  1/1
 Inspiration:  0/1
 Conditions:  --   
 
  
It takes a moment for Val's eyes to make out some of Eldeth's features; the pale light from the moss is simply too dim.  Val. Val Victor,  he says in reply to her. He looks around, though the darkness reveals little, he knows others are close by. He switches to the dwarven tongue and whispers,  I've been waiting for something to happen but, it's been too long. I think waiting any longer is likely to get us killed. You were here before I got here, have you noticed anything about their routine? Something we can use to make an escape? 
bluecrackpot
      
      Sefton “Old Sef” Goldentail    
  Leonin Barbarian 1 
 AC:  15  | HP:  15/15  | HD:  1/1
 Str:  +5  |   Dex:  +2  | Con:  +5  | Int:  -1  | Wis:  +0  | Cha:  -1
 PP:  12  |   PIn:  10  |   PInv:  9
 Rage:  2/2
 Daunting Roar:  1/1  (DC 13 WIS)
 Inspiration:  0/1
 Conditions:  --
  
 
  
Eyes closed, haunches sat flat on the cold hard ground, the mature, musclebound, massively marked and mutilated leonin methodically inhales and exhales the same dozen breaths he has every day for the past ten.  Here we are once more, Pierre,  he remarks in a soft nonchalant manner after having had his fill to the tarantula-sized arachnid perched on the rim of the day’s clay bowl.  Another day, another reminder that we are no longer at the top of the food chain, eh? 

Scanning the prisoners’ pen, Sefton’s cool golden eyes pierce the darkness to assess the rest of the unfortunate souls in the same predicament.  At least you can come and go as you please,  he continues in a low voice, all the while tapping on the underside of the bowl.  Old Sef here is stuck with this lot, none of whom has the guts to contemplate liberation. 

As the words leave his lips, his hunter’s instincts catch the human who’d arrived shortly after his own capture call out quietly. Though the message is nigh imperceptible to his ears, Sefton presumes from the dwarf woman Eldeth’s reaction.  Oho,  the leonin proclaims in a whisper,  Perhaps I was mistaken. 

Eager to find out more, he scoops up Pierre in one paw, holding tight until facing the two possible conspirators and then, feigning a stretch to limber up for the next manual labor, releases the spider in their direction,  Go, go there now please. 
zylodrizzt
Kaelen imprisonment sofar

A tall half starved unconcious form is dropped unceremoniously into his cell. When he awakens it's with a jump and he quickly realizes he has chains upon him as well. Like a beast in a trap he struggles and strains to remove the manacles. He attempts a spell he knows that excites his lycan blood shifting small areas of his body so he may free himself (guidance). He hasn't lost his head completely tho in all appearances and sounds would differ and he attempts to hide his verbal component in his struggles hissing  Spider hands  in druidic. He makes sure his back is to the entrance of the cell as he does so.

(Testing to see if the chains allow somatic components as well and testing to see if it's possible to shimmy out. If he's able to escape the bonds he will put them back on after. I'll edit with results)

The next few days he just watches the guards and others. He pays close attention to how they speak taking note of languages spoken. Just like how he learned to speak the other languages he speaks he watches body languages and such to get the general meaning of the new language he's encountered undercommon. He later gets bolder and when they he knows they will be around he makes sure to sing gibberish sprinkling in sylvan and druidic words to gauge reactions not just from the guards but also the fellow prisoners. Once he is certain the guards aren't in earshot and he's certain of the languages he does finally speak up specifically to stool (preferably in either sylvan or druidic but not in undercommon)  Dont be scared. Call me Kaelen. What may i call you.  he says awaiting a reply. Kaelen continues  Never encountered your kind before can you tell me of your people and your home.  he asks knowing that oftentimes when someone talks about themselves they calm some.

He also speaks to shuushar in a similiar fashion introducing himself (preferably sylvan or druid but not undercommon)  Never encountered your kind before can you tell me of your people and your home.  waiting for a reply he will continue  How is it you are remaining so calm. 

(Explaining how he learned undercommon while trying to see what languages we can speak in without being caught. I also would like to glean what i can about the race in here. I imagine there are a few he knows nothing about like stool or shuushar. Do I know what everyone has stolen or have with them? Have the other prisoners also got something? )

One of the outing to clean up he manages to palm a short length of rope and he begins to formulate a plan. He only pees into the pot and other more solid waste in the corner. It won't work without others and he doesn't know caverns as well as he knows the forest so once he's sure it's safe to speak and he hears anyone talk about escaping he chimes in.

(Awaiting details before I write more)
SlyJohnny
The spider flips it's pedipalps up and down towards  Sefton  in an enthusiastic  "Sure! Easy!"  and climbs down and off Sef's arm, scurrying up and perching on the wall directly above Eldeth and Val. It waves it's spinnerets at Sefton.  "I can hear them, but I can't understand anything they're saying. Have you seen any bugs? Let me know if you see any bugs." 

Eldeth meets  Val 's eyes and murmurs softly.  "I agree. We can't just wait until the relief eventually turns up to cart us off to Menzobarrenzan. Weaknesses... it's hard to say. Every day they come and take us to work in three or four groups. But there's always a lot of guards, then. Usually five or six drow and twice as many quaggoths." 

Eldeth turns her gaze towards the door that separates the slave pen from the rest of the outpost.

 "I saw someone try to run when we were emptying the chamber pots. One of the drow warriors, Jorlan, saw it immediately and pulled out a wand that fired globs of some sticky material that stuck him to the wall. They fed him to the spiders that lurk on the webbing just below the outpost. It was the second time he'd disobeyed..." 

She chews her lip, considering.

 "Of course, he doesn't have it anymore. The wand. I've seen an officer called Shoor carrying it now. After Jorlan came back all disfigured. The day they brought the mushroom in."  She says, nodding to the stool-shaped myconid.  "Before that, he seemed like the priestress Ilvara's favourite, but now he's fallen out of favour somehow, and Shoor has displaced him. Now Jorlan always looks like he's chewing on something foul. Could we use that, somehow? Play them against each other?" 
 Kaelen 's spell fails. It's not that the manacles are fouling up his gestures- they allow just enough freedom of movement for Kaelen to do the widest of the gestures the magic requires- and he's reasonably sure he's casting it correctly despite his weakened state, but nothing happens when he  casts it, no subconscious trickle of information or inspiration.

The manacles are tight-fitting. Roll a DC 20 Dexterity check to attempt slip out of them. You can attempt this once per long rest.

The guards speak to each other in Elvish, but repeat their instructions to you in Undercommon. None of the other prisoners seem to speak Druidic (and Val would be the only person who recognised Sylvan).

The small mushroom rocks backwards on its tripod legs as you approach, banging it's cap on the wall behind. It arches it's back up towards Kaelen, small holes appearing on it's cap as he begins to speak to it. It isn't clear that it can understand you, or how it would be able to respond if it did, but the holes are opening and closing in time with Kaelen's voice, as if it were listening to the sounds. It takes a hesitant half-step closer to the shifter, standing directly underneath him.

Shuushar responds to Kaelen in Undercommon.

 "I am called Shuushar the Awakened by my kind. I am sorry, but I do not recognise your words. Perhaps you do not understand mine, in turn. It is funny that something such as language increases the emotional distance that separates us. Perhaps this distance is why there is so much violence and chaos in the world." 

The leonin appears to have either smuggled in a pet spider or domesticated one since. No other contraband objects are obviously present.
zylodrizzt
Kaelen responds in undercommon.  Shuushar I am Kaelen. I know little of these words. I said Never encountered your kind before can you tell me of your people and your home. I also wish to know how you remain so calm. Do you know about the frightened creature there and how i can communicate with them? 
Janwin
Sneldrug focuses his observations on the patterns of the guards and the body language of the other guards, to see if he can find a guard that may be in lower favor with the other guards and to see if that guard has a key to the cell they currently call home.

  Perhaps, if I can lift the key off him, the others may simply blame him as a clumsy idiot who lost his key outside the cell instead of thinking it might have been pilfered...  

Looking around at the small groups forming throughout the cell, he smiles a bit.

  ...and maybe being able to unlock the door will give everyone an opportunity to enact their various plans.  Confusion may be my ally.  

Almost as quickly as the smile came across his lips, he forces it to go away, and returns to his downtrodden appearance.
Dr.Samurai
      
  Val Victor 
  Human Fighter 1 
 AC:  11  | HP:  12/12  | HD:  1/1
 Str:  +4  |   Dex:  +1  | Con:  +4  | Int:  +0  | Wis:  +1  | Cha:  +1
 PP:  11  |   PIn:  13  |   PInv:  10
 Second Wind:  1/1
 Inspiration:  0/1
 Conditions:  --   
 
  
 The second time you say? Good to know. With regards to the two warriors,  Val is careful not to say their names out loud for others to hear,  it may be possible to play them against each other. Hard to say. The stories I've heard of the drow all say that they are cruel and vicious, does that extend to their own kind? I suppose so, given your description of the warrior's wounds. And there's that fellow there,  Val says, nodding toward where he thinks he can make out the drow prisoner.  Maybe he knows something, do you know who he is? And what is Menzobarrenzan?  Val's dwarven is a little rough as he tries to maintain a whisper.
SlyJohnny
The kuo-toa stinks like rotting fish, assaulting Kaelen's sensitive nose, but he seems calm as he whispers back,  "I am a kuo-toa. I was spawned in a fishing town called Sloobludop on the edge of the Darklake. My people have a reputation for madness; divine magic can come easily to them, often rapidly, as a result of some sudden widespread social fixation, or the whims of a single visionary. We lived in the surface oceans in antiquity, before wars with the sahuagin drove us underground, and the freshwater of caves such as the Darklake is not suitable for us, so that each generation is a little sicker and more mentally degraded than the last. I have spent a lifetime in contemplation and solitary meditation to overcome that legacy. I have vowed never to harm another creature. It has brought me peace. Our current imprisonment simply is what it is. Who can say what end it is all leading towards? Even if we die at the hands of the drow, is that truly an end? As for the myconid, I believe-" 

The small holes on the myconid sprout's cap expand, flaring open like nostrils. Suddenly, a cloud of spores erupt out from them, coating the shifter's flesh as well as the kuotoa and anyone else within 10 feet. Kaelen can now hear a voice in his mind that wasn't there before.

  Hello! Please do not be alarmed! These are translation spores. I can't speak in sounds like you do, and I did not understand the first language you spoke. But this is silent, and the wicked drow will not be able to hear us. I am called Stool! I am pleased to make friends with you. Just think of speaking to me, and your words will appear in my mind.  

Sneldrug's quiet observations of his captors have revealed that each of the drow guards carry a key to the door of the slave pen on a belt ring. He's noticed the scarred drow Jorlan being treated poorly by the others: the junior male guards that he seems to have seniority over still obey his orders, but they whisper about him behind his back, and all of the female warriors ignore him as if he didn't exist.

Eldeth continues whispering to Val.  "Menzobarrenzan is the City of Spiders, the drow capital. We're supposedly to be taken there to be sold as slaves or sacrificed to Lolth or such. The drow's name is Sarith. He was in here when I arrived, but Jimjar says before they tossed him in the pen, he was one of the guards here. He might know something, but he's a brooding sort and got a foul temper. I haven't been able to get anything out of him. Maybe you'd fare better." 
Dr.Samurai
      
  Val Victor 
  Human Fighter 1 
 AC:  11  | HP:  12/12  | HD:  1/1
 Str:  +4  |   Dex:  +1  | Con:  +4  | Int:  +0  | Wis:  +1  | Cha:  +1
 PP:  11  |   PIn:  13  |   PInv:  10
 Second Wind:  1/1
 Inspiration:  0/1
 Conditions:  --   
 
  
Val looks in the direction he thinks he saw Jimjar last,  This city of spiders doesn't sound like somewhere we want to be. So one former guard, and one former favored guard. Fitting the drow put us here, and should set us free as well. I'll see what I can get out of Sarith, assuming he speaks the common tongue. I'll be back.  He turns back to Eldeth after he's moved a few steps and whispers with a smile,  Don't go anywhere! 

With that, Val makes his way toward Sarith trying not to bump anyone as best he can in the darkness. Once he reaches him, he whispers in common,  What did they lock you up for? Good behavior? 
bluecrackpot
Once Val moves away from being directly under Pierre, Sefton places his bowl on the ground as close to the vacated space without obviously encroaching in Eldeth’s personal space and begins subtly tapping it once more,  Could not extract anything solid from that broth, eh? Alright, give me a moment please,  he offers and stops tapping.

A quick scan of the space reveals that some of the newer inductees into the misery of malnutrition besides Val are finally communicating.   The young human — oh, wait,  is  he a human? Those proportions are not like any of the gladiators I encountered topside,   Sefton ponders to himself.   Did he try to cast magic earlier?  

Sefton furrows his brow momentarily as he considers the question more,   No, I will not pass judgment on someone who has not experienced the world as it is yet,   he concludes resolutely in his mind.   Especially since he seems to have a purpose for leaving his stool over there in the corner … oh, yes,  STOOL !  

Sefton excitedly renews his communication with Pierre,  In my experience, many bugs  LOVE  that dark squishy stuff in the corner … I see some right now, it is time to strike! Go, Pierre, go! 

As Sefton mouths the last few encouraging words, a cloud of spores erupts nearby,  Whoa! Watch out for those spores!  the leonin hurriedly warns as he inches out of the way, scooping his bowl off the floor to avoid the falling spores.

  Hope he caught that last part,   he prays to himself.
SlyJohnny
Sarith is staring off into space, wearing an expression of consternation on his alien but handsome elven face, when Val addresses him. He barks something in Elvish, then again in Undercommon ( "Get back from me! Babbling surface ape!"  for those that speak Undercommon).

 "Told ye he was a charmer."  remarks Eldeth, helpfully.

Pierre scurries around to investigate the possibility of bugs, passing over the locked door.

Sneldrug clocks them first, a group of eight drow emerging from the stalactite and deftly clambering along the rope bridge towards the slave pen, while quaggoth begin to shuffle intoview, baring their teeth at you through the bars. The drow in the lead you know as Shoor; he moves with a characteristic swagger, hopping up onto the stone outcropping from the bridge, and starting to order you around. He rattles his speech off in Undercommon, relying on gestures and pointed looks to convey his intent to anyone that doesn't understand his words.

 “Good morning, prisoners! It is wonderful to see you all so eager to face the day! So bright-eyed and bushy-tailed! Literally, in some cases."  Shoor smiles unpleasantly as he casts a look over everyone, considering how you might be best utilised.  "It is time for work. You, you, you and you-"  Pointing at Thorak, Kaelen, Sarith and Derendel.  "Gather up all the chamber pots and follow my colleagues here."  He gestures to the quaggoth looming behind him.  "And which of you has fouled the stone floor instead of their chamber pot? Disgusting. That may be how your culture did things in your old lives, but you belong to us now, and hygiene is important to the drow. You, pick that up and put it in the pot. Yes, with your hands.  Now. "  He instructs whoever is luckless enough to be standing nearest to Kaelen's chamber pot.

 "What base and filthy creatures... where was I? Oh, yes. Let's have you, (Jimjar) and that human (Val), that orc (Ront), and that leonin (Sefton). You seem like strong fellows. You'll come with us through the guard house and help operate the lift. You four-"  broadly indicating Sneldrug, Eldeth, Topsy and Buppido-  "will be coming with me. You have the privilege of preparing a meal for the priestesses and the soldiers of this outpost, and doing our laundry. The rest of you will coil ropes in the guardhouse. I will check your work later, and punish you if the ropes are insufficiently coiled or aesthetically displeasing in placement." 

The other ten prisoners hurriedly shuffle into groups to comply. Stool silently says goodbye to Kaelen and Shuushar, lamenting that the spores he's shared don't work over a long distance. The door to the pen is unlocked and opened.

Thorak and Kaelin are pushed with Sarith and Derendel along to the right, down a five-foot wide set of stairs carved into the side of the cavern wall, five of the quaggoth advancing behind them. They are being herded down to the end of the narrow ledge, to a space between a small locked guard alcove and another cave set into the rock face, where the spider webbing beneath the ledge does not extend over the drop. From here, filth can be emptied into the pool of cave water far below.

The rest are being taken in small groups along the thin and precarious bridge made of woven spidersilk, which swings wildly under your slightest weight. The drow seem to have no trouble with it, but it's slow-going for the rest of you, having to devote considerable effort to not go hurtling over the low guard ropes. From there a door is opened and you are admitted into a guard tower, a small illuminated interior space. It contains a  small lantern casting a hazy light over the space, zurkhwood table and three chairs, a smaller side table, and spider-silk webbing set with hooks for hanging equipment. Another door lead away west, and a ladder to the east leads up into the second floor of the tower. The first two groups are hurried through, guards ahead and behind of them, to be taken along another silk bridge stretching over a chasm of darkness. The ones at the back appear to being kept here to perform make-work for the amusement of the guards.

 

(Slave Cave is at 11. Guard tower is at 10.)
Hbgplayer
Lost in thought, trying to think of a way to gather some of the glowing moss from the roof of the cave, Thorak inadvertently paid no attention to the goings on around him until he heard the Drow prisoner bark in Undercommon, the first time he had heard him say anything in last six days.

Thorak turns his head to look at the source of the outburst, but anything he might have said dies as he sees Shoor approach the cell. He listens in silence to the slave-driver's directions.
  Curses, yet small favors I ain't near that mess,   he thinks with a quick glance towards the filth he hadn't noticed before,   I bet it was the orc, the uncivilized brute.  

Thorak clenches his jaw and sets out to gather his share of the chamber pots, taking extra care to avoid spilling any of the mess.

As his group is lead down the narrow stairway, Thorak looks around surreptitiously, hoping for some sudden inspiration that may be useful in an escape.
bluecrackpot
  Did he single me out for my tail?   Sefton muses to himself as he interprets Shoor’s hand gesture where he brings his hands to his rear and makes some kind of growth/growing motion, missing the preceding hand gesture about the eyes.   It may be that kind of day,   he opines, closing his eyes momentarily to center himself.

Moments later, upon being assigned coworkers and a group task for the day, Sefton continues to judge the drow silently,   Foolish man, everyone knows looks can be deceiving. Relying solely on outward appearances for those like myself, the orc, and the well-built human, yet picking the deviant-looking gnome instead of the only person in here larger than me for some kind of heavy lifting duty …  

Without finishing the thought, the leonin makes a mental note of his interpretation of the slaver’s assessment of the other people in the pen and gets one last message in to Pierre before heading out with the others,  Good luck with the bugs Pierre, when I get back we will talk about more places to find bugs, though I understand if you wish to be free of this place. 

After placing the clay bowl down on the floor against the side of the pen, Sefton stands confidently tall, shoulders back, head straight, almost as if on guard duty himself, takes a few more silent breaths, then approaches the door to the pen to join the rest of his coworkers-for-the-day.

Once outside the pen’s confines, he carefully scans his surroundings without moving his head, mentally registering the general layout, how many steps on each bridge, how far apart the caves are, how many there are, where the spider webs begin and end, where dim-lit areas begin and end, and any other distinguishing features of the drow structures, stalactites and cavern as a whole. As he surveys the premises, he also attempts to deduce where any confiscated gear and equipment might be stored, or at the very least where something else he could use to communicate with any other spiders around might be.

  Showing off the inner workings of this place without concern for aiding escape efforts,   he observes inwardly.   How arrogant. Your parents must not have taught you how pride goeth before destruction.  
Dusk Raven
Elena has been here nine days, and her mental state has not changed for the better. She's supposed to have been given the means to escape... but the problem now is the opportunity.

She hasn't exactly been proactive about that. For the most part, it seems like she's been in a fugue state, reacting to the drow's commands and little else - though words in Common or Sylvan ocasionally get a turn of the head.

As the entire slave crew is taken out to do something or other, Elena seems to stir herself into awareness, rising and gathering into the group.

Though the darkness means she can't see very well, the fact that she's no longer curled up into a ball gives everyone else a better look at her. Her long hair is black, or at least it appears so to those without darkvision. She's reasonably pretty, though more due to simplicity than any striking features. Despite her thinness, she doesn't give an impression of frailty - or at least, she wouldn't if she were properly fed.

Once outside the cells, she becomes a bit more aware, looking around idly, as if she were merely curious. She is, of course, looking for escape routes, though the fact that she's never had to think tactically this way is making that task... difficult.
SlyJohnny
Thorak and Kaelen disappear out of sight down the stairway. Elena is left in the guard tower with Stool, Shushaar, Turvy, three drow and a quaggoth, while the rest of you are herded through the guard house and out the other door, down another precarious silk rope bridge.

(Map for  Thorak, Kaelen, Elena: )

 
 Thorak, Kaelen: 

You are herded down to the bottom of the stairs. The zurkhwood door in front of you is closed, and you can hear voices conversely softly in Elvish inside. To your right yawns a dark and musty cave, and you can see more quaggoth lying down on the floor inside, their backs to you.

The quaggoth mobbing on the stairs behind you stare at you, not issuing commands, simply herding you down here and waiting for to attend to your chores. You can see many of them are watching Derendel closely, and when their fellow quaggoth once looks backwards at them, they snarl and bare their fangs. He murmurs something in Elvish, sadly, and turns to upend a chamber pot over the side of the ledge. The noise of the waterfall is softer here, and there is a soft splash from below, barely audible. The pool must be quite far down, unseen, out of range of your darkvision.

The drow Sarith sneers at the quaggoth, seeming momentarily amused at his expense before his expression turns dour, and he morosely picks up a chamberpot, carrying it to the edge.

You can both see the spider webbing just below extends until almost the very edge, where the waste is being dumped. If you jumped off the ledge at the end here, you'd presumably fall into the water below- anywhere else in the outpost, you'd probably land on the spiderwebs.

 Elena: 

Elena is left with the small, ambulant mushroom Stool, the smelly fish man Shushaar, and the hairiest of the deep gnomes Turvy, along with three drow and a quaggoth. One of the male drow disappears up the ladder into the upper part of the stalactite, coming back with four huge lengths of silk rope, perfectly coil. He hurls them at you, letting them tangle into a pile around you. "Coil these ropes." The drow woman commands, as the other drow descends and returns to his seat. The woman's eyes flicker back to the dice game they were playing earlier, but she returns her look to the group of you, assessing whether you are complying.

Elena can "hear" a small voice in her head.   Are they just going to stare at watch us move rope around? That's scary. I don't like how they look at us. At least we can all talk silently through the translation spores. You were all close enough when I released them. But the others are too far away to communicate with us now. I don't want to coil rope. It's boring.  

A voice that reminds her of Shushaar's enters her mind too.   Pay it no mind, Stool. Sometimes, we must seek our own meaning in moments.  

The deep gnome glances up at Stool and Shushaar, but apparently chooses not to "speak", bending down to pick up the end of a long silk rope.

(Map for  Sefton, Val, and Sneldrug :)

 
 Sefton, Val: 

Sefton doesn't think Jimjar looks particularly strong, but lean and lightly muscled. The rest of the group chosen are quite burly, though. You cross the rope bridge onto a narrow rock ledge carved diagonally into the cave wall, and pass by another silk rope bridge leading up to a door, at the top of a stalactite that's the largest of those you've seen so far. A little further and the narrow rock ledge widens out into a platform. There are several caves with zurkhwood doors set into them along the cave wall at the rear of the platform. Your drow escort splits you in two, Shoor taking the others away through a zurkhwood door to the east, while you are herded towards the edge of the platform.

Attached to the edge of this wide platform is a winch-and-basket device consisting of a large swinging arm that carries a thin cord of strong spider silk. The cord runs through a series of pulleys from a hand-cranked horizontal spool to a heavy woven basket suspended at the end. The basket rests on the platform, flanked by two quaggoth. You are nestled between two stalactites with zurkhwood door and through narrow apertures you see drow women dressed in studded leather armor and holding hand crossbows study you silently. The eyes of the drow and their quaggoth attendants track your movement with interest, like that of predatory cats. The area around the lift seems like a high-traffic area and the most well-guarded in the outpost.

As you approach the ledge, you can dimly make out a light from below- two red diamonds illuminate the cavern floor below, one diagonally across from the other, a hundred feet down beneath the spider webs. One of the quaggoth spots it and gestures to one of your drow escorts as he turns to shove the basket off the edge of the platform; you are directed towards the winch, and an elvish-accented voice barks in Undercommon   "Get to work, slaves! Pull the basket up! You will receive the blame for your laziness!" 

Jimjar and Ront shuffle over to work the winch from opposite sides, both leaving space for you.

 Sneldrug: 

You cross the rope bridge. The ground is 100 feet down: you can see the waterfall falls into a wide pool beneath the silken bridge that you cross onto a narrow rock ledge carved diagonally into the cave wall, and pass by another silk rope bridge leading up to a door, at the top of a stalactite that's the largest of those you've seen so far. A little further and the narrow rock ledge widens out into a platform. There are several caves with zurkwood doors set into them along the cave wall at the rear of the platform. Your drow escort splits you in two, Shoor taking you away through a zurkhwood door to the east. It opens up in a cave, dimly lit by a heavy iron brazier that burns in the far corner, that serves as a gathering and eating place for the drow warriors of the outpost; two of them are sitting at a table, their conversation dying as you enter and they turn to watch you. It has four circular tables carved from zurkhwood, each surrounded by five chairs.

Shoor gestures expansively to an area at the far side of the hall near the brazier. You can see there are cooking utensils, a few clay jars of spices, and barrels of fungi and dried mushrooms and preserved meat. There are also several cheese wheels.  "You will prepare a delicious mushroom fondue. I am sure you can work it out between the four of you. Let me know if you are feeling insufficiently motivated." 

Eldeth, Topsy and Buppido exchange a look with each other, then hesitantly step towards the preperation area.
Dr.Samurai
      
  Val Victor 
  Human Fighter 1 
 AC:  11  | HP:  12/12  | HD:  1/1
 Str:  +4  |   Dex:  +1  | Con:  +4  | Int:  +0  | Wis:  +1  | Cha:  +1
 PP:  11  |   PIn:  13  |   PInv:  10
 Second Wind:  1/1
 Inspiration:  0/1
 Conditions:  --   
 
  
Val shuffles along with the others, occasionally bumping into the person in front of him, or being bumped by the one behind. He comes to the bridge made of webbing and slows immediately, reaching out in the darkness for the handhold and testing the ground beneath him with his foot before placing his weight on the bridge. Sefton comes to his side and guides him in the dark. Crossing the bridge has been the most harrowing ordeal for Val since coming to this place. Though he cannot see once they leave the prison, he can hear the running water below, and feel the change in air above the flowing river. And of course, he can feel the swaying of the bridge as he and the others make their way across. He grips the sides tightly and nervously makes his way to the other side, thankful to feel solid ground beneath his feet.

Once the quaggoth barks its orders, Val says,   Help me get to the winch and I will turn it.   With all the ledges and narrow walkways, he is hesitant to venture into the dark on his own.
bluecrackpot
Val’s request for assistance brings Sefton out of a momentary daze.  Oh, yes, on your left, take my arm,  he offers.  Please do not step on my foot this time,  he requests, recalling the journey here.  I am not your dance instructor. 
Dr.Samurai
      
  Val Victor 
  Human Fighter 1 
 AC:  11  | HP:  12/12  | HD:  1/1
 Str:  +4  |   Dex:  +1  | Con:  +4  | Int:  +0  | Wis:  +1  | Cha:  +1
 PP:  11  |   PIn:  13  |   PInv:  10
 Second Wind:  1/1
 Inspiration:  0/1
 Conditions:  --   
 
  
 Then what are you?  Val whispers, taking the leonin's grumbles in stride,  Because we're going to need fighters if we've got any hope of getting out of here. Sitting in the corner by yourself won't do much.    THANKS!   he says, making a show that Sefton was simply helping him to the winch.
bluecrackpot
In response to the appreciation, Sefton bares his teeth as if to growl,   Later,   a whisper belaying the intense buildup emerges through his incisors.   Their pride is on high alert, and I am not subtle. We cannot afford to be the ignoring crowd,   he warns, head still, eyes darting towards the armored archers. After a brief moment, he exhales heavily, unclenching his teeth.

  Please do not thank me until the job is done,   Sefton cautions for all to hear, tilting his head towards the winch to clarify.
SlyJohnny
 Val, Sefton: 

The quaggoth that Val speaks to appears unsympathetic to his difficulties navigating in the near-total darkness, and only steps forward, raising a claw as if to strike the recalcitrant slave, but Sefton intervenes just in time, guiding him to the winch.

Turning the winch to raise the basket plus whatever burden it now carries is hard work, even for four people, and as you begin, it rattles loudly enough to cover your voices as it rises. The quaggoth is watching you intently from where she stands a little way back in the middle of the platform, but the drow seem distracted, staring down at the approaching basket as it rises into view. You have a little time to talk without their attention, but Ront and Jimjar are close enough to hear you.

Eventually, Sefton's darkvision picks out the basket rising slowly towards them. Four armed drow are inside, their armor coated with muck and cave dust- a returning patrol. The drow standing at the edge of the basket, wearing lighter armor than the rest, has a twisted sword hand that is missing two fingers, and his once-handsome face is melted and scarred. He appears sullen and tired, but his eyes flicker over to the four slaves working the winch as he slowly rises into view towards the platform, his interest piqued as he regards you with curiosity.

If none of the people manning the winch interfere, they'll see the group of drow step out of the basket and head towards the door that Sneldrug, Buppido, Topsy and Eldeth were taken thrrough.

 Sneldrug 

Four drow, their armor stained with dust and muck, shuffle tiredly into the common area. One of them Sneldrug recognises as the dissatisfied guard Jorlan, easily recognisable with his once-handsome face melted and scarred, and his sword hand twisted and missing two fingers.

Shoor smiles broadly at them.

 "Ah! The hero returns! Did you make any captures today, Jorlan?" 

The scarred drow shoots him a baleful look.

 "No. It was a long patrol to the eastern tunnels. There are no habitations there and no slaves to be had. It was not the  expectation  that-" 

Shoor waves this away.  "Never mind, never mind. You'll get the hang of it someday."  He grins at the older drow, before turning his attention to Jorlan's companions.  "What about you, Jaezred, Nadal? Had a good patrol? This grumpy old mess of scars wasn't too difficult to deal with, was he? You can come out with me, next time."  The younger drow laugh in an ingratiating manner, and move to bring some food over to his table, leaving Jorlan at a table alone. You see Jorlan spear a mushroom with his fork with more intensity than needed, and he looks up to watch you work as he eats, eying each of you in turn.
Janwin
 Sneldrug Fossilgrinder 
  Deep Gnome Bard 1 
 AC:  13  | HP:  10/10  | HD:  1/1
 Str:  -1  |   Dex:  +5  | Con:  +2  | Int:  -1  | Wis:  +0  | Cha:  +5
 PP:  10  |   PIn:  12  |   PInv:  9
 Bardic Inspiration:  3/3 (d6)
 Inspiration:  0/1
 Conditions:  --  

Sneldrug makes his way over to the food preparation area with the other three that have been assigned to cook and quietly asks in Common,  "I don't suppose any of you have any idea how to cook?" 

He looks over the available cooking materials, both to form a mental inventory of what they have to work with and to determine if there might be anything worth pinching if he got the opportunity.

 
 Spoiler: Medicine 
Medicine check to see if he would know if any of the available mushrooms are or are not poisonous, depending on whether he wants to or doesn't want to poison the drow.
 (1d20)[ 1 ] 
 


Upon seeing the disliked drow's arrival, he begins to busy himself with busywork in the cooking area in order to not appear idle, but uses the opportunity to try and slip a few words in to his companions under the guise of discussing the intricacies of cooking the desired dish.

 "The one guard is, clearly, disliked by the others.  If we have a distraction, maybe we can get his keys and they'll think he's just incompetent and lost them and not that we took them." 
 
 Spoiler: Stealth/Deception 
I assume we'd need either a stealth or deception check here.
 (1d20+5)[ 14 ]  Stealth
 (1d20+5)[ 13 ]  Deception
 
SlyJohnny
 Sneldrug  has never even seen any of the mushrooms here before, and has no idea if any are poisonous. He assumes the ones stored here for consumption are edible, but if any need to be made safe before cooking or are toxic in large enough quantities, he doesn't know. Food would certainly be useful if he was to escape... he wonders how much he'll need, how far away the nearest settlement is.

Only Eldeth speaks Common, but the other two both speak Undercommon, and Topsy also speaks Gnomish.

Topsy glances at Sneldrug.  "Don't cook much, but I know how to fry a mushroom. I'll stew some of that meat, too. Can any of you do anything with the cheese?" 

Eldeth nods.  "I think I remember how my mother used to do it..." 
 "I don't know what a fondue is. I'll slice the produce and the meat, then."  Buppido says.

The derro regards you curiously as you murmur secretively.   "Interesting. A bold, audacious plan. Perhaps you can bring him some food and then attempt it. What would you do then? Once you have it. The key. Once you had freed yourself, from our cage?" 
Hbgplayer
Thorak dutifully takes his turn at dumping the contents of the chamber pots into the void below, careful not to slip.

  That Drow seems to still have a spark of fire in him, but I wonder if he wouldn't turn any of us in in hopes for improving his own lot when the times comes. Probably. That quaggoth though seems pretty beaten down, and the others don't look like they any sympathy for him. Might be useful when the time comes.   He thinks to himself, looking at Derendel and Sarith in turn. As Thorak turns around, he make brief eye contact with Kaelen, and murmurs  "Glamorus job, aye?"  in common before walking away from the edge.

Away from the edge, he also tries to take a quick count of the number of quaggoth inside the 2nd cave.
Janwin
 
 Originally Posted by SlyJohnny 
 The derro regards you curiously as you murmur secretively.   "Interesting. A bold, audacious plan. Perhaps you can bring him some food and then attempt it. What would you do then? Once you have it. The key. Once you had freed yourself, from our cage?"  
 

Sneldrug shrugs and admits,  "Haven't thought that far ahead yet.  One step at a time, and I figure if we're all out at the same time, we have the best chance at making it out." 

He cuts up some of the vegetables into bite-sized pieces.

 "Not sure what we do with our drow cellmate.  His knowledge could be useful, but I suspect he's just as likely to turn us in to try and regain favor." 
bluecrackpot
After a few more-physically-strenuous-than-expected rotations of the winch, Sefton recognizes that only the quaggoth responsible for them is now watching and decides to communicate as before through gritted teeth, attempting to play it off as grunts due to exertion, addressing his winch mates,  Oho, perhaps I was mistaken. How do you all feel about gambling? 
SlyJohnny
 Thorak  can make out  (1d4)[ 2 ]  quaggoth resting in the cave. It seems like more at first, because the interior is littered with nest-like mounds of debris and the scattered bones of the quaggoths' past meals.

As you and progress in emptying the stack of chamber pots over the edge of the rock shelf, half the quaggoth escorting you shuffle down the stairs and form up between you and the cave, intending to herd you back up the stairs, but you and Kaelen have time to finish your conversation before being led back.

 Sefton, Val: 

Jimjar looks up at Sefton, his eyes suddenly totally focused on you.  "Never could resist a flutter on a game of chance... What are you thinking?"  He murmurs, just loud enough to be heard.

 "How? No dice, no game."  Ront growls, gesturing with one hand to his near nakedness, his lack of pouches or pockets.  "Pull on rope! I am doing all this work myself." 
 Sneldrug: 
 "Oh yes, the drow prisoner. A peculiar fellow. Perhaps he's simply here to spy on us all. He mumbles in his sleep. Quite often. Sometimes he mutters he didn't kill Jonaleth. Sometimes he's denying it repeatedly, as if trying to convince himself."  Buppido remarks.

If you want to try to steal the keys from Jorlan or anything else here, describe how you're going about it and make a Dexterity/Sleight of Hand roll.
Hbgplayer
After the chamber pots are dumped out and cleaned, Thorak steps back, prepared to shamble back up to the slave pen.
Dr.Samurai
      
  Val Victor 
  Human Fighter 1 
 AC:  11  | HP:  12/12  | HD:  1/1
 Str:  +4  |   Dex:  +1  | Con:  +4  | Int:  +0  | Wis:  +1  | Cha:  +1
 PP:  11  |   PIn:  13  |   PInv:  10
 Second Wind:  1/1
 Inspiration:  0/1
 Conditions:  --   
 
  
Val keeps turning the winch, unable to see much of anything around them. He can hear the patrol exit the bucket. He listens to whatever Sefton might suggest, though he took his comment about gambling to mean something about their escape, not an actual game of chance.
zylodrizzt
Kaelen had had a strong mind just to jump when he heard thorak. He was unsure of the meaning behind this statement from thorak. He hadnt much practice interacting with with people and recently it seemed more dangerous to say anything at all tho he still responded tho cautiously  I do not understand why droppings are done within dens. I understand the need to dispose of them. I think this is meant to degrade those other two more then us.  he says looking at Derendel and Sarith.
SlyJohnny
 Val, Sefton: 

Val can just make out the four-man patrol as they appear, with the disfigured Jorlan illuminated by the two red diamonds floating in his palm. The drow looks at them and gestures, and they vanish, and Val's world is plunged back into darkness once more.

 Thorak, Kaelen: 

Your job done, the quaggoth herd you back up the narrow stairway, and (unless anyone wants to do anything before then) move you back into your cave. One of them shuts the slave pen behind you, and it locks automatically; the quaggoth are mostly naked and do not carry keys with them.

The others are not back yet. The drow Sarith stares at the gang of quaggoth as they shuffle away, leaving you alone, and mutters in Undercommon.  "Stupid beasts. If there had been a drow with us, they'd have set us to cleaning the outpost or some such time-filling task. But the quaggoth just carried out their orders and returned us. It was supposed to be a punishment and yet here we are, done before any of the other work parties."  He sits down in his usual spot, sullenly. If he's taken any joy from this early release, he's concealing it well.

Derendel the quaggoth replies,  "I am glad they did not treat us too harshly. Those towering beasts scare me, with their claws and fangs. I don't like how they regard me. We do not have their like, on the surface!" 

Sarith snorts derisively and rolls his eyes.  "You were born down here, you stupid mutt. I will not go through this with you again." 

Derendel grows softly menacingly, rising to his feet and drawing himself up to his full, 7-foot height. Sarith's eyes flicker up to meet his.
bluecrackpot
As the patrol passes out of sight, Sefton responds to his fellow winch mates,  Currently the odds are 5-to-4 against us, 2 in each tower and 1 close by watching. We can even that out if we overpower the watcher and make a rush for the basket, what say you? 
Hbgplayer
 Aye, that's likely true as not,  Thorak replies to Kaelen on the march back up the stairs.  Back in the cave, Thorak again turns to Kaelen in a low voice,  I counted two quaggoth in the pen down below, in addition to those that were our escorts. 

Upon hearing the drow prisoner speak, Thorak turns his attention over. It takes him a moment to recall the words, but Thorak replies to Sarith in Undercommon   I was wondering that myself. Are there not enough of your kind in this outpost to oversee every task?  

He then listens to Derendel, confused for a moment, before his eyes grow wide in alarm from the hostile exchange between Derendel and Sarith.

  Woah now, lets not do anything hasty. Despite his being in with us, I would guess that any injury on the Drow would be paid back upon all of us in here now.  
  persuasion  - (1d20+3)[ 8 ] 
SlyJohnny
 Thorak, Kaelen: 

Thorak's interjection draws Derendel's ire away from the drow.  "Who are you to lecture me? Patronise me? Must I endure the prodding of this insolent creature of darkness forever?"  A low rumble sounds from the quaggoth's throat as he extends his claws and takes a step towards the dwarf, his animalistic demeanour contrasting with the clipped, polished way he speaks in that growly voice of his.

Sarith ignores the dwarf's plight as he murmurs,  "There are nineteen drow at Velkynvelve. A pack of a dozen quaggoth. They only use that cave for sleeping and eating... most of them will be on duty, attending to the senior officers: the priestresses, and the elite fighters who barrack in the two stalactites by the lift. Oh, and the giant spiders that live beneath the outpost, of course. Six of those." 
 Sefton, Val: 

Jimjar's eyes glimmer with interest, and Ront looks hesitant, but intrigued.

 "It's not impossible..."  Jimjar murmurs, just loud enough to be heard.  "They'll be shooting at you the whole way down, and anyone left up top will probably just man the winch and pull you back up... so you'd need to get rid of that quaggoth, then you'd need to push the basket off the side and get in it. And you'll drop like a stone... must be a hundred feet down... unless one of us stays behind with the winch, and lowers it slowly." 
 "Ront not stay behind!"  growls the orc, hurriedly.  "Is hard to move arms in these chains. Could we push quaggoth over the side in chains?"  The orc seems doubtful, but is clearly desperate.

Jimjar is still looking at Sefton.  "If you go for it... I bet you 10 gold you'd be dead before you made it to the cavern floor." 
bluecrackpot
Sefton scoffs,  The value of a life cannot be measured in gold, which you clearly understand because you did not offer to make the leap yourself,  teeth still bared as if in exertion even though no longer rotating the winch.

He glares at Jimjar before leaning in closer to whisper in the gnome’s ear,   Besides, if we are to do this, we must improve the odds even further, and the best way to do that is with a trial run to gauge their reflexes and response times.   As he says the words ‘trial run’ his eyes dart between Jimjar and Ront mischievously.

 Of course we can push quaggoth over the side, we are close enough now that the smallest nudge could topple them over, especially if lured in close enough for one of us to crouch down behind and be used as a tripping tool,  he responds to the orc.  Our resident normal vision human over here could be the tool by pretending to trip and fall since he cannot see well in the dark, and when the quaggoth comes to either check on or berate him, you push him over. 
 The two of us,  indicating himself and Jimjar,  could cause enough of a distraction up here to keep them occupied while you make a run for the lift, then we can man the winch while you escape down it. What say you? 
Hbgplayer
  My most sincere apologies, I meant no offense,   Thorak slowly takes a step back and raises his hands.   I cannot imagine how grating it must be having him belittle you.  

He then prepares himself to dive away from the nearest wall if he is unable to soothe the quaggoth's emotions.
zylodrizzt
With a low growl and a bark kaelen speaks in undercommon  Every pack knows they are stonger together but if you must fight let that be the end of it.  he says while heading over to stool. He thinks to the fungus  Please friend can you share your gift with us? It will be most useful. 

Assuming he does kaelen thinks into everyone's mind as he pulls out a rope.  If this is spider silk we can tighten it to bend the bars and slip free. Once free we get keys and get out. Both derendel and sarith know this place well and can lead us to the others and our equipment before we make our escape. Stool here of course will aid in remaining undetected. I don't know what everyone else is capable of but I trust you'll lend your aid any way you can. I myself grew up in the wilds so once we are away I can help to survive til we are someplace safe.  
SlyJohnny
 Val, Sefton: 

Ront's eyes go from Sefton to the quaggoth to the lift, and for a moment he considers it, but he shakes his head, averting his gaze from everyone as if ashamed he can't seize the opportunity.  "No good in chains... maybe if more rush it, some would make it?"  He mumbles.

 Thorak, Kaelen: 

Derendel stops, swaying for a moment as Thorak and Kaelen console him, his claws flexing, but finally hangs his head.  "Yes, it.... thank you for your kindness and understanding. I am sorry for my outburst. It is... hard to control the bestial nature of this form, at times. I am worried that I am losing myself to the savagery of the quaggoth."  he frets, rubbing his clawed fingers together anxiously.

 Everyone: 

(Unless anyone wishes to attempt anything else, we'll assume everyone makes it back to the slave pen at around the same time, led back there by their drow and quaggoth escorts.)

Reunited with the rest of you and hearing Kaelen's request, Stool obligingly release another cloud of spores around himself. Everyone who allows themself to be close enough to the myconid when he does this can suddenly hear the sprout's "voice" in their mind, and communicate wordlessly with everyone else who was also close enough.

  Hello everyone. Do not be alarmed! My spores will allow us to communicate as long as everyone stays within thirty feet of each other.  

Derendel paws the ground eagerly, flexing his claws again.   Yes! Yes! We could get out, and then overwhelm the guard post to the north! I am willing to fight for my freedom! Me and Sarith know the way, and can lead!  

Sarith's mental voice interjects,   Just a moment, I didn't promise to lead anyone anywhere... your equipment has likely been claimed by the priestress Ilvara. I suppose you'll just casually rob her, after you snap open the door to our pen with your little rope? And even if you can find us food, where would we go? Menzobarrenzan is 26 days march away from here...  

A voice that sounds like Jimjar interjects  Well, let's not go there. Blingdenstone is three tendays away. I memorised the route from the northern tunnel. It'd be two thirds that, if we could get a ferry and go straight over the Darklake instead of walking around it. 

It will be easier to damage the door if you can slip free of your manacles first. Kaelen (or anyone else) can attempt to use his reinforced rope to attempt to break out of them at advantage.
bluecrackpot
Back in the slave pen, Sefton searches for Pierre so intently that he doesn’t notice the spores until he suddenly hears voices in his head. Seizing the opportunity to build more rapport with Jimjar and the rest, Sefton chimes in to the mental discussion,   A wise person once told me that sitting in the corner by myself will not do much, so please allow me to offer up some suggestions, bearing in mind that all plans appear sound until they come into contact with the enemy. While brute strength is not always the answer, in this case, with a little help from our spider brethren, we could use fortitude  and  that rope to greatly improve the odds of achieving freedom.  

Sefton pauses to scan the room for Pierre once more, a slight smile crossing his face when he notices the arachnid resting in the corner where the feces weren't completely disposed of, a small web of insect death tucked into a small crevice in the wall. He chuckles quietly to himself before continuing,   Given enough time, I may be able to convince Pierre to web up the lock in the door so that it closes enough to seem fully shut but still allow us wiggle room to move it with enough effort, especially if we can break free of these chains. While it is entirely possible to do so single-handedly with a supernatural effort, that rope appears sturdy enough that it could be leveraged to improve the odds.  

He pauses once more to observe the faces of those assembled to see who is still engaged before continuing,   For any who might be risk averse, I humbly volunteer myself to attempt this when the time is right, and I alone will be responsible for any consequences for failure. If, however, I am able to rend these manacles asunder when the time comes, I advise you to cover your ears and prepare to rush the door. What say you?  
Hbgplayer
  That is quite understandable. I am curious about what you mean, but perhaps that is better saved for another time,   Thorak consoles Derendel.

After everyone returns, he finds himself sneezing from the suddenly released spores. The shock from suddenly hearing voices in his head stops the sneezing fit as quickly as it began.

  Oy, this is going to take some getting used to, but alright then.   He shakes his head quickly.

  I do believe that the time is nigh for any moves we are to make if we wish to be successful. How long would your spider need to work on the lock?   Thorak turns briefly towards Sefton before continuing.   I am wary, however, of attempting to rush the guard-post and trying to overwhelm them with sheer numbers. Without any equipment, many of us will likely perish in the attack, and it would unlikely be able to prevent them from sounding the alarm even in the best case. Drow-sorry, Sarith, is there any other way out that might be less costly?  

He pauses for a moment, and sighs before continuing.

  If rushing the guard-post remains our best option, I do have an idea that may give us a momentary advantage. I think that I can use a bit of the glowing moss as a component for spell of light that just might dazzle the guards eyes. With the right timing, it could allow us to close a gap. But I require assistance collecting some of it; my dwarf stature isn't conducive to reaching the roof of this cave,   Thorak thought with a wry smile.
bluecrackpot
Turning towards Thorak, Sefton begins to explain,   Pierre is not ‘mine’, we are like-minded predators who were once at the top of our respective pyramids seeking to reclaim our rightful places. See that over there?   he gestures with his head to the web’s location,   Pierre is already well on his way, though he will soon run out of sustenance if all of us manage to escape and overtake this place.  

Turning towards Sarith, Sefton continues,   That wretched priestess is on my list, any retribution against her will not be casual. When it comes to finding food, the dwarf reminds me of the 10 days’ rations on me when I was captured, so that is a… oho, I am most certainly mistaken. I have been in here at least that long, those rations are long gone.   He pauses to take a few deep breaths, a short low growl escaping his lips.

   Wonder if the rest of my equipment is intact too,    he muses to himself, hoping some thoughts are still personal.    Those torches would be useful for those that cannot see in the dark.   

Mustering a more hopeful tone, he continues addressing Sarith,   If I were to reclaim ol’ Bess, sustenance would not be a problem, even in the darkest depths.   Turning back to Thorak, he inquires,   How many stone are you, dwarf? If it will help me get her back, I will personally lift you to reach that moss.  
Hbgplayer
  I'm about 13 stone,   Thorak replied to Sefton.   And retrieval of my equipment would be most helpful. If I were able to get my holy symbol, I could channel the power of Moradin through it rather than relying on physical components for many of my spells.  
bluecrackpot
Sefton's eyes briefly bug out in surprise at Thorak's response, though the leonin recovers quickly to smile and nod towards the dwarf in understanding before scanning the rest in the mental link to ask,   Does anyone else believe the time is right, or are the rest of you of the slothful persuasion? If the former, please speak now. If the latter...  

As the thought trails off, Sefton turns to Jimjar to request,   Surprisingly mighty and amazingly perceptive gnome, would you please do us the kindness of alerting us when the guards' backs are turned so we might retrieve the potential physical component above?  

A hint of mild disappointment crosses Sefton's face if there are no immediate responses, though it doesn't last long as he locates a clay bowl and signals to Pierre,  Well done Pierre, I see you have had a veritable feast while we were away. I have an interesting proposal for you, how are your web-making muscles feeling right now? 
SlyJohnny
Sarith silently replies to Thorak,   Beneath us is a 20-foot deep pool. It drains out into an underground river, but is constantly fed by the waterfall. If we could only get out, we could jump down into the webs below, and then over the edge into the pool. A gray ooze lives in it. But it's basically domesticated, harmless, feeding off the waste we throw down there. From there we could flee in chains and without equipment out of the north or west passage, with a decent head start on any who might pursue us to drag us back...  

Jimjar nods once at Sefton.   Sure thing. I do like to keep an eye on 'em. Think the three in the tower are playing dice again.   he silently muses.

Sefton's spider accomplice scurries over, seeming more well-fed than the rest of you have been feeling lately, ready to assist.

A sample of the moss is easily retrieved with the two of you working together, though a Light spell wouldn't be enough to blind the drow. The distant guards show no sign of noticing.
Janwin
Sneldrug contemplates the suggestions of the others, and then his voice enters the conversation.

  While I do not doubt that some of you are more than capable of the brute force required to escape the confines of this cell, I expect it would be rather loud and draw attention.  The next time the disliked guard, I think his name is Jorlan, comes by, if someone can present a distraction I may be able to pilfer his keys.  I suspect it unlikely they will think that we stole them while confined in the cell, and would likely blame him for incompetence.  At which point, we may leave when it is most opportune for us to do so.  

He considers the moss on the ceiling.

  The same manner in which I intend to steal the key may be employed to get you the spell component you seek.  
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
For the GM: the idea is to as quietly as possible (Stealth check?) cast Mage Hand while the guards are distracted by a commotion and, through it, use a Sleight of Hand check to pick Jorlan's pocket.
 
SlyJohnny
Sneldrug notes that the guards currently don't seem to be paying attention, and he has the opportunity to attempt his spell, but shortly, Jimjar warns of a susurrus of movement from the guard house. Those with sufficient darkvision can spot Jorlan emerging from the door and making his way across the spidersilk bridge, bearing several bowls and a large pot. He mooches over to the gate of the slave pen, gesturing casually to summon a small violet light that hovers next to his face, casting his disfigured features and bright red eyes into ghoulish relief.

 "Food. Come here and get it. One at a time."  He says curtly, slopping a ladleful of some thin-looking mushroom gruel from the pot into one of the clay bowls. He's alone, with no other drow or quaggoth assisting him, which is unusual for meal time. He passes the bowl through the barred gate and stares into the pen, waiting to see who reaches for it first.
Dr.Samurai
      
  Val Victor 
  Human Fighter 1 
 AC:  11  | HP:  12/12  | HD:  1/1
 Str:  +4  |   Dex:  +1  | Con:  +4  | Int:  +0  | Wis:  +1  | Cha:  +1
 PP:  11  |   PIn:  13  |   PInv:  10
 Second Wind:  1/1
 Inspiration:  0/1
 Conditions:  --   
 
  
  No time like the present,   Val thinks into the telepathy, and moves toward the gate. He sticks his bowl out, but makes eye contact with Shoor in the dim light,  Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. We're having a rough time in here, but seems like you have your own problems out there. Maybe we can help each other. 
bluecrackpot
  I am not subtle, so please do not look to me for a distraction if loud is not desired,   Sefton telepathically offers to no one in particular.   Unless someone  wants  a fist to the face?  

He pauses briefly, half expecting a response before addressing Val directly as before to the group,   If you can convince him to open the gate, the orc and I might be able to subdue him if the little one’s hands are not swift and stealthy enough to retrieve the key.  

Sefton glances towards Ront to see how he feels about those odds, hoping the orc was affected by the spores as he inches to the opposite side of the room from him.

  Oh, that reminds me,   Sefton remembers as he turns to contact Pierre just quietly enough for Jorlan not to notice.  Are you able to web up the lock in the gate enough so that it appears all the way shut but still allows us to open the gate without a key? If you cannot, do you have enough webs to cover the entire lock so that anyone left in here cannot get out? If you can do any of that, there will be plenty more bugs on the outside if you stick with us. What say you? 
SlyJohnny
Jorlan regards Val coolly.  "Certainly I  could  help you. But I'm not sure how you could help me. In any event, I am no longer in charge of you prisoners. Anything that happens to you is Shoor's responsibility, not mine." 

The drow furrows his brow for a moment, considering something. The corner of his lip twitches.

 "Say, human. If I could give you a means to escape from here, would you take it?" 
 Sefton: 

The spider twitches it's pedipalps thoughtfully.  Yes, if it was open for a time, I could web it up and stop it closing all the way, but they might notice. Or I could web it enough that they wouldn't be able to get that little key thingy in to move those tumblers around, so anyone left behind couldn't get out. 