First an apology. I had no idea I had left you hanging for so long. No excuse other than carelessness. Sorry, and I'll try not to let it happen again. This whole scenario is vastly different than originally envisioned. those pesky players have a way of doing unpredictable things.
Now. On with the show.
Pakkard frowns slightly. He is obviously displeased.
"You only waste your own time with these evasions Officer Kramer. It would be far easier to do this with your cooperation.
"You seek to evade my probes with these little fantasies and excursions. I'll help you understand something wo we may make more efficient use of our time. They won't work. Your surface thoughts are immaterial. I can see what I wish and go where I will. I'll be honest that your psyche has some odd holes in it. Almost like erasures. You may have been tampered with previously.
I offered to help you before and you made tremendous progress. When first you came to me, you had no idea even what your true name was. These... exercises we do my help fill in more of those gaps. A side effect, really, but a mutually beneficial one."
Now, let us try again. You may make whatever daydreams or dramas you wish in your little psyche. I won't be there."
All this time, Cassie watches impassively. It is obvious she has little liking for adept witchery, but she has orders.
Again, Pakkard's fingertips make the lightest of contact and again time passes. You are not sure when you fell asleep, but when he rises and removes his hands you are aware of significant time passage.
Pakkard sits back, obviously tired.
"Well, that was enlightening. I have no idea why you have such an attachment to that violent and filthy city of New York, but it certainly fills much of your memory. Your leaders were so inept that even the criminal scum of that land had access to these guns. No archon would allow rabble to possess such items.
"On the other hand, your recent memories of firing them are very interesting indeed. There was an odd 'hiccup' in your psyche when you pulled the trigger and sent the bullet into that Demon-King artifact. A shame you weren't able to save it, but I suppose you ascribed noble purpose to your actions. At the very least, you helped to kill a rogue Master who would have been an annoyance in time to come.
He rises. He is weary, but you are oddly refreshed. You have slept after all, while he has been working. He gestures to Cassie, who shows no signs of weariness. "Guard him or whatever it is you do. I must report to Throne." He turns to you before he leaves. "Officer Kramer, is there anything you would like to add to your impressions while you fired that last bullet? I have a feeling they could be critical to your early departure."

"Pakkard, what you must have difficulty in seeing within me is my faith. While not as devote as some, I have belief in something larger then myself. Regardless of whether it is true or not, thinking something out there is helping you--guiding you as you live your life is comforting. Perhaps, in my time of need it was that very faith that made an ancient broken weapon fire one last time. What do you believe in Pakkard?"

Pakkard actually seems to consider your question before answering.
"There are undoubtedly greater powers out there. This is implicit for any who can read the Stones. Faith, though? Put your faith in yourself, Man of the Dead Past. Nothing else is worth it. There is nothing in the universe that cares about your welfare. Just you."
And yet he looks thoughtful as he leaves.

As soon as the door has closed (there is no locking sound), Cassie turns to you with a more respectful look than when you arrived. "You slew a Master?" She almost looks as if she's daring you to call Pakkard a liar.

"Things had gotten...difficult. Choices had to be made. The Master was going to kill many many people if not stopped. I took the most sensible course of action to end his plot and my actions caused his death. I regret that he couldn't have been brought before a jury to answer for his crimes but it couldn't be helped. Evil as he had become I'll carry that death with me...like some others...forever."

"What's your story. Why work for Throne. You've seen how he treats people. Does he force you to stay here too?"

"Force? no.
"Throne is strong. He makes my people strong. I am here from duty to chief and tribe.
"Did you not realize? I am hill tribe too. Djothar Tribe of the Carrilon Uplands. Djothar women are warriors. By working with Throne, we make our tribe strong."
She immediately stops and looks sharply, as if she has said too much.

"I am sure that he can provide for all of his underlings like any good crime boss would from my home town. The thing is there is only real strength in doing what is right and treating people right...the way they would want to be created. My friends took me in even though I look scarey and am sick."

Vagrant pauses to give a hoarse cough.

"They help me make a living and help keep me safe. It's a tribe of sorts really but the thing is we don't violate others. We don't force others to go through mind-bending procedures like you just witnessed. I truly hope that he isn't as bad as what I have seen today but I gotta tell you, people like this have been around for a long time. Once you push someone to do something against their will, it is easier and easier to do it each time. My feeling is that Throne will do this without hesitation now. It's all about power and control. You want more and more each time you attain another bit of it. Does your tribe need strength derived from that? Why not look elsewhere for strength? My friends could help. I just need to get to them."

"Throne has you and is getting what he wants from you. Your friends are outside and unable to do anything about it. Where is their strength?
"Yes, working within and for a tribe gives you strength. But if your tribe is not strong," here she looks pointedly at you, "Then you are not strong. What do your friends do for you now?"
"We of the Hill tribes reject those who are weak or riven. They cannot help you to survive the Wilds. Taking in those who are weak threatens the survival of all."
She smirks, "And do not try to get me to pity you with talk of sickness. You may be riven, and you may cough much, but I have seen you fight. You are not weak and helpless."

"You are mistaken. You mistake my current weakness for fear. I do not fear you, Throne or my own death. The point is that as long as I live a moral life I can give up my life and realise that I did good by the opportunity that was given to me. Trodding upon others may look to you like strength but it eventually turns to fear. Tyrants and bullies soon ask--what if those that I have trappled upon were to get the upper hand somehow? In the end many villains rule with an iron fist because they are fearful of what would happen if they relaxed their grip. Tribes of moral makeup tend to stick together when things get hard. They become more then the individual parts when it is needed. Those that follow tyrants have little loyalty from the thing they follow. If it were me, I'd rather be alligned with the moral because their strength is real and it is something to be feared when unleased. Oppression can be like a powder keg---like a hot spring ready to blow its stack."

"Ahh, Vagrant flops onto the bed, "It's of no use. My morality is something deep and dead in the past. Could the world have really grown to be so self-centered that everyone thinks that it is fine to take it if you have the strength to do so? In my world, we tried to treat others as we would like to be treated. Our world worked in such a way that each individual tried to provide value to the group so that each person could benefit from what others provided. This world is all about what can be achieved now...for the individual at whatever the cost. Ashame, really..."

"I never said you were afraid. I was merely warning you not to think you can trick me into believing you ar enot a threat. You claimed to be sick and so you may be.
"This is an interesting philosophy you espouse, though. So your world was a perfect world where everyone worked for the common good? I suppose you had no crime or war either? You have been called an officer by Throne and the Witch. Though it is a city word, I know its meaning well enough. If your world was so perfect, why did they need warriors?"
She leans forward, a look of philosophical triumph upon her face. "And if this system you so loved was so great, where is it now? Could it be that love and compassion are fine when the world is kind, but in the end, in the dirty bloody end when all you care about, when your very existence is on the line, only Strength matters? Only Strength endures?
"I have hear that to the east are great ruins. Relics of a lost tribe. Are these all that are left of your shining cities? Your great society?"
She relaxes again, but remains wary. "You use funny words like 'Oppression' and 'Morality'. I might replace 'Oppression' with 'Loyalty' and 'Morality' with 'soppy wishful thinking', and you would have an idea of how they sound in my ears. The world is a savage earth, and filled with many dangers. The strong survive; the weak do not. that is the way in nature; that is the way of man.
"These city priests say they believe differently, but their words are those of little flabby men who hide from the world behind walls that are defended by strength."
She pauses again as if considering her previous words. "I suppose it all comes down to this. If you are weak and cannot defend yourself, or are part of a weak group that does not strive to become strong, the strong shall take from you all that they desire. That is the essence of strength and weakness"
All of this speech seems incongruous, since it issues from the mouth of a beautiful barbarian female. You would not have guessed by looks for her to be capable of such erudition and philosophy, however much you may find fault with it. The quirky feeling is increased by her next utterance. "Are you hungry?"

"No, it most definitely was not perfect and that is why I was a peacekeeper during that time. There were always those that tried to disrupt the peace for personal gain or just to disrupt what other groups had because they couldn't create something as grand as ours even with our help...these were called terrorists. The point is that my world tried for something longer term and better then what I see here in the savage earth. It doesn't matter that it has failed because there was great value while it did last. It's just a pity is all. Mine in that my world is gone. Yours that life has to be like the way Master Ash or Merchant Throne want it to be. Oppression is wrong. Dominance is wrong. If that is the way of this world then I will have to get used to it, but I will strive to be better then that. Now, you mention hunger. I could eat, that is for sure. I see no quick end to my imprionment here. Thank you."

She gets up and motions you towards the door. "You could always try harder to remember whatever it is that Throne wants. If he gets it, that would end you imprisonment much quicker."

You are ushered into a hall. To your surprise, you are bumped into by two children. They are about 11 and 14 years old in your estimate, a boy and a girl. The boy, the younger one, backs away in obvious discomfort over your appearance. The girl rolls her eyes at him and says, "Don't be a little baby, Chen! He's probably a just a riven." She looks you in the eye and bold as brass says, "Are you a riven, Mister?"
Cassie immediately intervenes, "Biona! You and Chen should be in the nursery. Where is the governess?"
"We gave that old shrew the slip," replies the girl, who must be Biona. "We want to see the vesting. Master Grayden is here."
"Some little girls know too much,' says Cassie darkly.
"And some Barbarian girls talk too much," replies Biona. "My father woulnd't like--"
"Your father wouldn't like you talking family business in front of guests'" says Cassie, flicking her eyes toward you.
"Whatever."
"Must I summon your father?
"Stones! I just want to see the weapo--"
"Biona!"
"OK, OK." She reluctantly turns to leave.
All this time, the young lad has been staring at you in awe. As the to females finish their interchange, he says to you in a small voice, "Is it true, Mister? Are you a riven?"

Vagrant takes in the conversation with great interest.

He kneels down to the young boy and puts out his open but wrapped hand. He looks out of his hood at the boy to make sure that his eyes are visible.

Attemping to mask his raspy voice he speaks softly to the child, "If I were would a big strapping boy like yourself be frightened of me?"

The boy flinches at your hand, and were it not for his sister's presence would probably bolt.
" idunno," he replies. He is obviously cowed. Further attempts at conversation are fruitless, as he will only mumble the simplest of responses.
Eventually, the other conversation catches up and the sister jerks her brother away. "C'mon Chen, maybe we can go swimming or something. I think all the fighting was over last night." The boy follows his sister, but his eyes never leave yours, like a sparrow staring at a cobra.
You feel Cassie's hard look upon you, her eyes seem to be trying to plumb the depths of your comprehension of what the children have said.

"Beautiful children. You know all that we discussed back there? All my thoughts are for babes like those two. How can we make a better world for them? The boy reminded me of my nephew. He was a bit timid too. His older brother took advantage but it was all in fun. His brother would have given his life for that little boy if need be. I suppose that is like what you were saying about the tribe."

Vagrant looks off down the coridoor briefly, "Maybe there are still some similarities..."

Cassie eyes you carefully still, her eyes careful slits. In the end, she shrugs and leads you downstairs and toward the back of the house.

Eventually you come to a large and well-stocked kitchen. There are cooking pits and larders and drudges about, all the things you would expect in a large household. She motions you over to a small wooden table in a corner out of the path of the workers. She catches up one of the servants, a small mouse (about two feet in height) and says, "Bring us some bread and cheese. Some of those fish things from last night if there are any to be had." She looks at the long high windows to gauge the sunlight and decides it must be sometime around midday. "I'll have my beer lot now. Kramer or Vagrant, whatever you want to be called, do you want beer or wine?"
The mouse hovers, ready to dash off at your response.

"Good Afternoon, I'll take a beer. Thank you." Vagrant says in his signature scratchy voice. Then he looks at Cassie, "You are only allowed a certain amount of beer per day?"

Cassie answers freely. "We are warriors lent to Throne. As such, we are to remain vigilant. The beer is rationed to make sure no fool loses their edge. You, however, may indulge to your content."
She drinks slowly and evenly of her beer.
"But you have asked many questions. It is now my turn." She looks you in the eye, carefully. "How old are you? Have you lived as long as these Stone-folk seem to believe?"

Vagrant returns Cassie's gaze and eventually answers, "I think of myself as 38 years old. However, I lived them in the distant past. I simply slept away the days, months, years and decades in between. My world was ripped apart by a great catastrophe that birthed the world you are familiar with. know, my world was hard on the earth and nature. Maybe the loss of my world did have one good effect--nature has come back with a vengeance. While not something I am used to, it is good to see the jungles and forest thriving and teaming with life of one sort or another. If I didn't feel so sick I'd probably have a more optimistic outlook for the beauty I see around here."

As you trade conversatin with Cassie, there is a disturbanc eon the far side of the kitchen. A large, burly-looking man with a high forehead and keen eye comes striding into the kitchen.
"Where's Throne?" he asks, "I've come to make delivery. I've brought his servants back as well. Oh, and if Throne has any of that Black Year vintage cooling in the cellar, I wouldn't say no." You note to your surprise that the man where one of those glowing jeweles like Nuyok's or Pakkard's. Your suspicions are confirmed when one of the household help says, "I'll bring someone round to take delivery, Master Morphist Thaddeo"

Cassie looks very upset by the loud entrance of the Master. she glances again at you as if to discern how much you understand. Then she quickly rises and says, "Come! we must leave."

Vagrant will follow Cassie's lead but makes an attempt to catch Thaddeo's eye as he goes. He hopes conversation may ensue stopping his quick exit.

Thaddeo does indeed catch your eye, for you tend to stand out in a crowd.
"No need to hurry off on my account. I don't eat barbarians." He laughs at his little jest and indicates for you both to sit with him at the little table.
Cassie is about to intercede, when another person speaks up from the interior door of the kitchen. "I must apologize Master Thaddeo. Vagrant here is a... guest of Mister Throne. He should not be involved with any business ventures where discretion is required."
As all turn to see this newcomer, he is revealed to be Lt. Jonnit of the City Watch. He stands with cool confidence belying a face concentrated with subtle warning.
Master Thaddeo's face clouds at this statement. "Oh, I see. Right then. Off you go and I'll get my due and leave."
Jonnit gestures for you and Cassie to go off. "I believe Mr. Earp would do well to stay on the second floor, Hill Woman."
Cassies face screws up a bit and she says, "Earp?"
"The name he gave at the gate. He also claimed to be a Wyatt, whatever that may be. But up you go now. Take some of the bread and cheese."

Sorry about the unintentional spoilers. Sometimes I am posting while entertaining my two-year-old daughter and forget to check everything carefully. I hope I didn't ruin anything.

Vagrant looks to Thaddeo, "I too came to make a delivery, but it seems Throne isn't interested in my wares. Pity. They are quite elegant."

He moves off to the door to leave with the others.

As Vagrant is hustled into the hall by Cassie, they are met by yet another couple of people. This time it is Throne and Pakker. You catch the tail end of a conversation on Throne's end.
"Leave with the shipment in three days. Will you be finishe--"
He abruptly stops as Pakker makes a silencing gesture.
Throne immediately appears upset to see you.
"What is he doing here?" He demands of Cassie.
"Merchant Throne, the man requires food. I thought the kitchens to be removed enough."
"Well, you thought wrong. Do your thinking upstairs in Kramer's room.
"Pakker?" He looks questioningly at the Psychist who appears to be studying you closely.
Pakker replies slowly and cryptically, "No. He is curious, but nothing more."
Throne humphs, and then waves you onward. As you pass from earshot, you hear Throne from the kitchen, "Ah, Master Thaddeo! I hope they were of fine enough qual--"

Vagrant will just go with the flow here and see where it takes him next.

Cassie escorts you back to your room, less talkative than before. After several hours she is relieved by a large sour looking brute of a barbarian with long dreadlocks in both head hair and beard. He carries the axe you have seen so many of them bear, kind of a large tomahawk. It is of incredibly fine make, far better than his armor and other tools would suggest. Certainly better than any you saw last night.
He looks at you with more contempt and antipathy than the situation probably warrants. In fact, his body language seems to be saying "give me an excuse, rag man."
He does not give a name, nor is he one of the guards from last night.

Vagrant looks at the immense barbarian for long moment and finally shrugs and walks over to the nearest seat and plops himself down, "*Sigh*, it was nicer having the lady..."

The bulk of the day passes unenventfully, and you actually manage to get a little sleep. The barbarian guard continues to be taciturn. In the late afternoon, Cassie returns and says, "Mister Throne would appreciate your attendance at the table."
Assuming no objections, you are give the opportunity to clean up a bit and escorted down to the dining room. There you see Throne, Pakker and two barbarians. Throne and the barbarians are armed. There is food on the table, similar to the repast you enjoyed last time, if one may so loosely use the term, "enjoyed". Cassie stays at your left side.
Pakker has a dissatisfied look on his face, but Throne looks also looks less than happy, but ther is a thoughtful and crafty look to him as well.
"Ah, Officer Kramer. We were just discussing your departure. Please, sit. Eat."

Vagrant sits down and begins to eat. Eventually, he looks at Throne, "Have you finished with me? I'd hate to think that my defiling failed to yield the results you desired."

"Well that's just the problem, now isn't it?" asks Throne rhetorically.
"Pakker," he says, notably omitting the 'Master' honorific, "Would you please tell the officer here what you just told me?"
Pakker looks less than happy to do so, but begins, "I will try and put this in terms you are familiar with. I probed your psy-- mind for some time. You may have felt your charade was buying you time or misguiding me. It was less than a distraction.
I have quite thoroughly examined your experiences at Fort Lizard and at the Gorseroot colony. The latter is a rabbit-worked farm you do not properly remember, since you were quite delusional at the time. The psyche retains all impressions, though. Things barely perceived can be brought out in startling clarity by trained and--"
Throne clears his throat meaningfully.
"But I digress," Pakker continues smoothly. "The point is that you have only fired your sidearm twice, or rather on two separate occasions. Both times were in remote areas, when people were in... crisis states of mind. Your need was paramount; your survival was--"
Throne interrupts, "Enough! What this long-winded academic is saying is that he has this funny notion that the only reason your gun fired was because you believed it would."
Pakker looks a bit lost for words. "Essentially... yes." He pauses, and when Throne declines to add more, he continues. "Something unique happened with your psyche upon each occasion. It's maddening, but it can't be seen with the tools available. The actual actions are indecipherable."
Throne looks at you, waiting for comment.

Vagrant sits back and looks at Pakkard and his amazement for a moment. Then throwing his arms up with a bit of a hidden eye roll he says, "Well, of couse I *believed* it would work. We depend on these things to be an extension of ourselves and to work just like a leg or an arm. We are also taught that they are built to kill and when the moment comes to fire it at another individual that you should be prepared to kill them and that that action is truly the level of force needed. So it doesn't surprise me one bit that you'd see my faith...my need for this weapon to work. I believe it will do my bidding as I do my own hand."

"Interesting theory, but I don't buy it. You thought the gunpowder on the table last night would work. It made an excellent fire retardant. You're gun exploded in your hand when you shot that Demon-King artifact. Tragic loss, that.
"But this is academic. Let's put this to the test." He claps his hands and in comes the other serving girl (whom you now know to be a Hill Tribe bodyguard, like Cassie). She bears the gun from the night before with its ornate box. She sets it on the table before you.
"Take it," says Throne, gesturing magnanimously. "Here's the deal. I don't believe Pakker's theory. I think there's something fundamentally wrong with the formula. Pakker says no. You fire that gun, you walk. You fail, and you remain our guest till we get to the bottom of this mess."

Just in case you missed the above post. It was hot on the heels of your previous one.

Vagrant slowly opens the box and looks inside. Spying the weapon he gently brings it into his hand once again. He feels its weight and balance and enjoys it for a brief moment. Then he jerks the gun to his own head and says, "Okay, so let's look at this scenario. I have a weapon in my hand that has bullets made from gun powder that fails to burn when lit. Odd. I have a mentalist that theorises that one such as me can fire this weapon only because I want it to. To an extent that is certainly true since you must will yourself to pull the trigger to get it to fire. I guess in this case I wouldn't want it to fire since I do likely not want to die. By Pakkard's explanation I would not die since I won't want it to. I would say bullshit to that if it was a working weapon with working ammunition. I've seen too many people die when a guy misfires from hitting the ground or other odd occurances. Now, if I pull this trigger and kill myself it doesn't prove too much since you can't say for sure if I would kill myself to get out of this situation. About the only thing I can think of is that I need to--"

Vagrant aims the gun at Pakkard's chest, "...point it at someone I want to kill. Perhaps firing away at someone who would mess in my head unwelcome will help influence this weapon to work when it doesn't otherwise. What do you think Pakkard? Do you really believe your theory?"

Before Pakkard can respond, I as GM must know what Vagrant's true intentions are. Your character may be not fully aware of the fact, but bluffs almost never work on a psychist. If you fully intend to shoot him, let me know, so that I may roll his appropriate Danger Sense.

Vagrant will try his best to have a number of scenarios running through his head when scanned. He hasn't made up his mind as he points his gun at Pakkard but his targets include Pakkard and Throne as well. It would be easy for Pakkard to pick up the fact that he is waiting for a response from one or the other to help him decide if taking advantage of this weapon will help him get away. So danger sense wouldn't detect that he'd is about to pull the trigger. While he is generally opposed to killing Vagrant realises that he may need to use force to free himself and this weapon may be one way to bargain for his freedom. Bottomline--he isn't opposed to using the weapon if the time is right.

Pakkard meets your stare with a icy glance of his own. "I rather suspected that would be your response. Typical." He sighs. "To be honest, I don't know if pulling that trigger will work here. You're not desparate, not the same frame of mind at all."
Throne joins the confrontation with, "And I'm not sure that pulling that trigger is going to work at all. At least not the way you're probably hoping. Look around you, Officer."
You become immediately aware that the barbarian guards in the room have drawn their axes and hold them ready for throwing. They seem similar to the old-style Indian tomahawk, but made of sharp steel. Cassie is definitely in a combat stance.
"Can you fire that thing fast enough to survive the consequences? If you pull that trigger at one of us and nothing happens, well, then you're unarmed and about to face five combatants." Five? Pakkard? "But if the gun works, then by all accounts it makes a damned loud noise. You won't just have to face the people in this room, but the rest of the compound will be alerted, especially if I'm not around to calm them down.
"So let's have no more of this stupid bravado. Point the gun at the floor and pull the trigger."

"Options and scenarios are all I have left and little few lead to my escaping this place. You put me in a difficult and possibly desparate position. I shunned my friends away in hopes of a rescue but much time has passed and they have not arrived. I have all but given up hope so it looks like you win, Throne. With this last effort I turn myself over to your needs. Maybe there is some long lost god who will awaken with this noise to answer my prayers and send someone hateful of you and your greedy deeds."

Vagrant drops the gun barrel to point toward the ground and repeatedly pulls the trigger 5 times.

click.
click.
click.
click.
click.
The hammer falls on five perfect shells and fails to discharge any of them. Throne looks triumphantly at Pakker, "There. What did I say?"
Pakker sighs the sigh of a teacher whose students just won't get a point. "Despite his protestations, Kramer is not truly desperate. Dispirited, perhaps, is a far better description. He is not truly in need. Not in the survival, fight-or-flight kind of way."
Throne looks thoughtful. "Well, I was afraid it would come to this. We'll have to put this to the ultimate test." He gestures at the Hill Tribers.
"Kershak, Tulbat, Cassie. Escort Mr. Kramer to the basement. It's time to show him our little surprise."

At this point you are escorted firmly or forcibly. Forgive the steering, but your character is deeply out-armed and out-numbered. It's up to you whether you cooperate glumly or resist and end up in pretty much the same place but banged up around the corners.

You are escorted down a flight of stairs in the corner of the kitchen. There is a huge cellar below, lit by oil lanterns. It is deep enough that the ceiling is actually set in cross-barrel vaults with numerous columns.

Tied to one of these columns is a man in city guard uniform. His face is bruised up and his clothes are torn and a litle bloody. he is flanked by guards. Throne introduces you.

"Officer Kramer, I would like to introduce you to a troublemaker. This is Officer Jornu of the City Watch. He and his partner, who met with an unfortunate accident earlier today, have been too inquisitive for their health."

Jornu spits a red glob at Thorne's feet. He glares through slitted eyes, one of them puffed and swollen. "You'll hang for this, Throne."

"Only if I am caught, Guardsman. And even then, it's surprising how much justice money can buy."

Jornu looks at you now. "Well, you must be Vagrant, since you don't look like a Master or a barbarian. You have some determined friends."

You may reference the map in the "Assault" thread. The top post is visible to you.

While Vagrant stares at Jornu's cuts and bruises he asks, "Why am I in this cellar, Throne?"

"Because here is where we're going to tie up a lot of loose ends. Jornu here has been talking to your friends. They weren't content to leave well enough alone. You might be interested to know that they made an attempt to get you out of here last night. They were sent packing. They talked to Jornu and his friend"
Jornu reacts at this point, "You bloody bastard! You killed him!"
Throne looks shocked, "I did no such thing, man. He was trespassing. A man has a right to defend what's his."
"a Man doesn't sell his city out to outlanders in order to line his pockets! Spirit weapons, by Prometheus. Spirit Axes in the hands of barbarians!"
Throne looks a little angry now. He gestures to the barbarians. "Secure Officer Kramer. Careful, I don't want him damaged more than necessary."
Again, you can resist, but the odds are too great against you.
Willing or no, you are trussed up to one of the stone columns. Oddly, you are facing away from the stairs and some distance into the cellar.
Throne inspects. "Pakker, this is the spot?"
Pakker responds, "Yes, this is to perceivable from above. But do you really believe Nuyok to have survived the cavern?"
"Ripper didn't see anyone, and no one gets past Ripper. The boatman and the others didn't see anything either. They're either lost or found another way out. In any case, I'm not taking chances. One of the others may be Sighted."

"Now Officer. Or Vagrant if you prefer. Here's how it stands. You have either one or six bullets in the gun, depending on if they will ever fire. We're going to wait for your friends to arrive and see how you perform under real pressure."
You realize that though you are secured, on hand is free and has limited range of motion. The gun is placed (or replaced if you resisted) in this hand.

"Jornu, my apologizes if I am in any way responsible for the lose of your friend. Throne, if I have any power to make this gun work I'll make sure to save a bullet for you."

Then Vagrant stares off into the cellar and waits...

A small amount of time passes after you are trussed up. Not too long afterward, though, a figure appears at the top of the stairs. It is Jonnit.
"Everything is fine Mister Throne. They are attacking just like you said they would. They have some kind of distraction with some archers in the old Skatara place across the street. I think they'll be here is a few minutes."
"Great. Gags now, warriors. We don't want our guests giving away too much."
Jornu spits out, "You'll hang, Throne! You're mad, you trait--". He is silenced by a ball gag forcibly applied to his mouth.
You may interject one comment or question before you are gagged similarly, but I'm going to describe the further action.
Throne faces you, "Okay Vagrant, here's the tactical. Your buddies are coming to rescue you and will probably think we've been caught with our pants down. There going to come charging in here in a few minutes." he immediately leaves again, as if on some signal.
He leans closer, "What? What's that? They'll kill us? Well, that's a possibility. Your Rath and Nuyok accounted for more than a few of my men. The cute surprise is that see, we're not exactly alone here. We've been a little busy during the day. There's a tunnel in that far corner that leads out of the city. Same one your buddy used to get out, as a matter of fact. Well, deep in that hole is a squad of hand picked Hill Tribe braves, armed with Spirit Axes."
Jornu begins raging against his gag, "Nu Gungnug! Nu Gugga!"
"That's right guardsman. You and your dead partner almost worked it all out. There's a reason all my caravans get through Hill Tribe territory. Hm, and I suppose a pretty good reason why other merchants seem to have a bit of trouble."

Pakkard suddenly straightens. "Merchant! They are above us. Nuyok is with them." He looks pleadingly at Throne.

Throne shoots back a contemptuous look, "You water-blooded gutless... All right, get down the hole. If you are brave enough to pass all the warriors down there."

Pakkard doesn't look happy, but skedaddles across the basement and down one of the pits in the SE corner.

Throne and the remaining warriors take positions of cover. "Remember warriors. Fight defensively. Draw the bastards in. Once they're committed, up come the reinforcements."
He looks over at you before taking cover behind a pillar.
"Unless of course, someone's ancient weapon can dissuade them..." He smirks.

The ball gag is not a Hollywood gag. Somehow in movies, gags keep people from making any noise. I can scream through my nose pretty well. This gag will allow you to make noise, but will effectively keep you from making any intelligible noise. If you wish to communicate anything, you may only use the vowels "U" and "A", and the consonants "G" and "N". Example: "Help me!" could be expressed, "Nung na!" You can use simple punctuation in your written utterances. You can also make simple hand gestures with your free hand if anyone passes to the other side of the pillar you are tied to.

I am not marking your position on the map yet, since the other players are using it as well. Of the free-standing pillars, Jornu is tied to the second one down and the third one from the left. You are tied to the third one down and the fifth one from the left. Just to the Upper Left of the "C" in "Cells".

Throne is hiding in one of the bays closer to the door and not in LOS to your pistol. You should have an excellent view of the horde of bloodthirsty barbarians about to erupt from the shaft, though.