Escape from Rhamdell
July 5th, 2011
Hello everyone and welcome to another exciting Grave Plots, where we bring you new plot hooks and adventure ideas each and every week. This week is Rogue Week here at Necromancers of the Northwest, and as such, we will be devoting all our articles to the discussion of those beloved backstabbing stealth specialists. Longtime readers (or archive divers) may have noticed that one of my very first articles (in fact, my third article) was on the subject of rogues. As was the case with most early Grave Plots, that article covered some fairly non-specific adventure ideas in a very broad sense. This time around, we’re going to narrow the focus a little bit and take a look at a more well-defined adventure idea for the rogues in your life.
Rhamdel
It’s dark out when your captors drag you, half-conscious, from the cramped wooden box which has served as your home for the last few nights. In the darkness, you can just make out the shadowy form of an immense structure that towers over the landscape. Following a heavy shove towards the structure, the sneering voice of the guardsman speaks a mock greeting, “Welcome to Rhamdel; shame you’ll never see the outside in the sunlight. It’s truly a spectacular view.” A second sharp jab from the guard precedes him speaking a second time, now clearly trying to sound threatening, “You better get moving – unless you want me to process you right here and now?”
On your march toward the structure, which can now be made out to be some kind of ancient stone fortress, you become dimly aware of other pairs of shackled feet making their way along the shadowed path. To your great frustration, every time you turn to glimpse at these other figures you are met with a painful shove and another one of your guard’s threats. As you get closer to the shadowy fortress, the air begins to fill with a swirling mist, bright violet even in the dim light of distant stars. Through the mist, you spot what appears to be a line of men in bulky hooded robes that obscure both their faces and their forms. The figures raise their hands in your general direction and begin intoning an eldritch chant; your vision blurs and you suddenly feel faint, the darkness of the night seems to thicken around you, and despite your best efforts you cannot stave off the descent into unconsciousness. Collapsing into your captor’s arms, your last waking image is of his wicked sneer splitting into a delighted grin.
You awake sometime later in a large stone chamber; the steel shackles binding your hands and feet make it difficult to rise, but you somehow manage to make it up to a standing position. All around you can see other haggard and bruised prisoners, stumbling to their feet with varying degrees of success. All this fumbling draws a cacophony of eerie laughs, snide chuckling, and gruff guffaw’s from the rooms other occupants: about a score of guardsmen, all dressed in the same fine black leather jerkins and stupid sneers. When the prisoners make it to their feet the guards, suddenly all business, lower cruel looking halberds to crush any resistance the bound and beaten prisoners might muster, before ordering everyone into a line. Some of your fellow prisoners look terrified, others murderous, but everyone gets in line. There seems to be about a dozen of you, and, like yourself, there seems to be nothing so special about these individuals as to warrant the treatment you endured in getting here. After a short period of nothing happening, a door at the far end of the room creeps open, and a wiry looking man with short iron-grey hair and a fine robe of midnight black calls out an unfamiliar name before retreating back to his corridors. Two of the guards frog-march one of the other prisoners through the door and close it behind them.
The prisoner does not reemerge; however, when the door reopens, the old man calls another name and a second prisoner is escorted through the door, not to return. This goes on for some time, accompanied each time by the nervous twitches of prisoners, unable to speak for fear of their captors. Finally, it comes time for your name to be called, and you are led into a second, somewhat smaller, stone chamber with numerous exits and single wide desk, at which the wiry man sits next to a somewhat more impressive figure garbed in the cloth of House Themrich. Taking a quick look at you and then at a piece of parchment laid out before him, the impressive man speaks in a loud, booming voice, “Special holdings,” and ignoring any protest the guards who marched you in shove a dark cloth sack over your head and take you away swiftly down one of the other passages.
Nearly an hour of frog-marching down constantly winding tunnels, made painful by your previous travel arrangements, sees you to the inside of a large circular stone chamber. The room is featureless except for the other occupants: four of the other prisoners you arrived with and one leather-skinned old man. The heavy iron door slams shut and locks behind you. Your cell offers you little hope of ever seeing the outside world again. Once the guards leave, the old man speaks up before anyone else gets a chance, “What’s you in for kid? I swear to god if I hear ‘I don’t know’ one more time tonight, I swear I’ll be sick.” The truth was, though, that you had no idea why they had brought you here; after all, none of your previous “exploits” seemed to have warranted the trouble. Before you have time to answer, however, the old man speaks again, this time to the entire room, “Well I don’t suppose it matters. My name is Eilam, and you young folk are exactly what I – what *we* need to get out of here.” Eillam goes on to explain that he’s been stuck in Rhamdel twice as long as anyone else. He has contacts throughout the fortress, extensive knowledge of the layout and obstacles to your escape, and perhaps most importantly, Eillam has managed to smuggle in a lockpick, which can be used to flee your cell. What he lacks, however, is strength, cunning, and youth. As such, he is willing to trade you and your fellow prisoners everything he knows – as well as his lockpick – in exchange helping him get out.
You are a rogue, armed with only a lockpick, the skills of your companions (the other prisoners), and your wits. You must do what has never been done before: escape from Rhamdel Prison.
Ok, so now you have your plot hook/adventure idea, all that’s left to you is to actually make a cool prison dungeon, design encounters, and get your group well on the way to a fun-filled rogue-themed adventure. Until the next time you find yourself looking for more great plot hooks and adventure ideas, allow me to wish you all the best in your gaming endeavors.