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You've almost lost track of how long you've been here, a never-ending cycle of descending into the bowels of the mountain for what must be days on end, a brief respite in the sun and then back under again.
Many of your fellow prisoners say that they were born to slaves, and have spent their entire lives here. Others were captured and sold, like you. They are a mixture of all human types found across the Southern Seas, with some tlaxu (mostly Mopendine) and a few of the Ti-Kop fish folk. The guards are about the same mix, dressed in leather armour, armed with spear or sword, with perimeter guards to the topside camp also bearing crossbows.
Perhaps if all the slaves acted as one they would outnumber the guards five to one, but the guards are armed and armoured. The slaves wear manacles around their ankles at all times, and tools are left in the mine. And then there would be the problem of where to go.
As far as you can tell, the mines are deep in sweltering jungle, and the nearest settlement is twenty miles away on the coast, the fortress known as Prison, where Warden Tevronash Jakuul ("Little Tev") trades the ore that you painstakingly extract for him. Once a week, as near as you can tell, the wagons come bringing supplies for the mining camp, and take away the crude ore.
Leader of the guards is Overseer Grey, scarred, with an eye-patch, Grey rarely interacts with the slaves if he can help it, leaving that to his underlings. Amongst the prisoners, several have gained positions of power or notoriety, particularly the huge Moa-Ruaki called Kana-Koa. Leader of a band of thugs, Kana-Koa bullies his way to the best rations and quarters, and the least work. Some grumble that he is the Overseer's snitch, but never in earshot.
But Kana-Koa is just like the lifers and the slaver-born, in that he has taken his life in the prison mines to be the sum of his world. But you are different. You feel the pull of destiny and know that your fate is not to end your life toiling away as a slave. You have found others that share the same idea, and tonight, your night above ground, you meet under a canvas shelter for the first time.
Jungles, volcanoes, prison mines, dragonsblood ore. This must be Tas-Nabrenor, a small island chain about a month's sail southwest across open sea from the Necklace of Plenty archipelago
Kai has no idea how he got there - or, for that matter - who he really is. When he woke up under the guard's lash, he remembered only one thing: his name is Kai. He understood the speech of his captors. Some time later one of the other prisoners told him that the speech is called Low Imperial. Not knowing of what empire, Kai remained silent. In the gray hours of morning Kai would spend some time examining himself. He found that he is tall and lean. Numerous scars criss-crossed his skin and his long fingers and palms wore swordman's callouses (he remembered what sword is almost the same instant when he remembered his name). Looking in the murky reflection in the bucket of not so clean drinking water he saw that his unevenly hacked hair is black and some slave - for they were slaves in truth if perhaps not in name - told him that his eyes were startling indigo in color.
But for Kai the most startling thing on his body were two dragons. First was a tattoo of black and smoky gray dragon coiled upon his right arm, it's tail touching Kai's hand, it's head resting on Kai's shoulder. The other dragon was brand the size of large coin on his left cheak, in the shape of dragon eating his own tail, from right to left. Looking in his reflection Kai thought that he was once handsome man, but not anymore. The scars left from obviously recent branding disfigured him.
Tlerixxial is a large Tlaxu, tight muscle tone showing through his purple-black fur. A pair of notches on one ear offers look clean and purposeful though he's not forthcoming on whether they were inflicted by himself or another. His eyes shine in the darkness in an odd green-yellow hue that changes with the light.
He speaks little and his voice while soft is threatening.
The tall young man known only as Jaden is imposing to look at. in simple clothing, his hands and feet wrapped in cloth, he somehow manages to seem strong, his pwerfully built body notable despite the poor nutrition.
A hard worker one would at first think that he has completely given up on any other life, until catching a glimpse of the fire in his eyes. Beneath the calm, almost placid exterior lies a brewing storm that has been building for a very long time.
One that seeks release.
One that will not be denied.
Brought together by bonds of fate, you share your meagre rations by starlight and discuss what information you have managed to glean.
One of the "lifers", a slave-born by the name of Talent (although he has none), has intimated to you that he knows of a secret way out of the mines, passed down through his family. He is willing to share it with someone if they can stop Kana-Koa's thugs from beating him up.
You have heard from one of the slaves who work in the camp kitchen, a Ti-Kop called Stormcap whose recently broken leg makes him useless for digging work, that the next supply caravan will be here in five days time, coincident with the next time that you are above ground. Stormcap reckons that a resourceful person could hide themselves in the wagons.
There are rumours throughout camp of the strange spirit folk that inhabit the island, and are reponsible for mysterious disappearances of items, and sometimes people. Most don't really believe it, and blame the overseers and other prisoners, but you've seen one. Briefly. A tall, thin humanoid thing with long fingers, watching from the jungle eaves. It was well camouflaged, and vanished when you looked away momentarily, but something is out there. Perhaps the rumours that these creatures worship a massive idol of dragonsblood and gems is also true.
"There is a lifer name Talent. He says that there is a secret way out of the mines, passed down from his ancestors. He will share it if someone stops Kana-Koa and his thugs from assaulting him daily"
"Does he speak in truth or in desperation?"
Tlerixxial flexes his arms in frustation."We have little to go on, I have seen... something in the jungle, a spirit-folk it could be useful, or could harm our cause - yet to see."