The worst part was the endless routine. When people in the City talked about the Black Whale the usually focused on the wet cells, the terrible food, the endless vigilance, the violent inmates but no one ever mentioned the worst part, the sheer repetitiveness of prison life. Every day was exactly the same.
Razwin and Nyx woke up just before dawn to the tolling of a heavy iron bell. The cell (build in the bowels of an old, grounded ship) was always dark, wet and stuffy. Then the guards would come with breakfast and a headcount. The breakfast was always cold gruel, and a small bit of hard bread.
Then a few hours passed with nothing of note, time for talk and restless waiting.
Then lunch came, and the guards came around again for another headcount. After this, all were manacled and led out of the cells. It was time for work detail, and this was the one point of variety in the day. The prisoners were used for all sorts of maintenance and repair work, which the aging ship needed badly. Some days you were in the bilge, re-caulking old busted seams, other times you were on scrubbing the top decks, and sometimes even hanging over the side, re-painting the weathered wooden sides. Always watched, always chained but the fresh air and sun felt good.
Dinner was eaten communally, on the top deck, chained to heavy rings, sitting on the (hopefully) freshly scrubbed wood. Then, at the bell, all were re-manacled and led back to the cells and another headcount. Lights out at dark, to go to sleep and do it all over again.
It was a diverse group that endured this unending purgatory of back-breaking work and endless boredom. There were corrupt politicians, crooked merchants, political radicals, relatives of the rich and powerful and a smattering of common criminals deemed too dangerous for the usual jail. Some had gone mad here, and sat with silent eyes in the corner or screamed endlessly for no reason.
In the three weeks they had been here, Nyx and Razwin had seen one escape attempt, a pitiful job that simply involved jumping off ship into the dark water below. The guards had merely laughed and pointed as the man tried to swim. After only half a dozen struggling strokes, a dark shape loomed out of the water. Without pausing the huge shark simply opened its jaws and nearly swallowed the man whole and dove for the deeps. All that was left was a slick of red blood that the rough waves soon dissipated.
No one escaped from the Black Whale.
Another day and dawn had just come and there was a bit of time for talk between the two cellmates.
Razwin sighs. "The boredom is killing me" is a common enough phrase, but in Razwin's case it was perhaps literal. He stares down at his hands, wondering if they are just the slightest hint more pale, more devoid of color and life since he last checked. Even with his gnomish eyes, it was hard to tell.
The gnome turns towards his cellmate. "Ingenious, really," he begins conversationally. "Smuggle yourself out in several pieces in a shark's belly. It's a wonder no one else thought of it first."
"Of course, shark-related security is bound to increase, so I doubt we can copy that daring escape." Razwin says, his tone mixed parts amusement and desperation. "We'll need something equally as heroic. Perhaps we can light ourselves on fire and escape as smoke."
Unlike some of the other prisoners here, Nyx regarded her situation as if she were an outside observer looking in, faintly curious and relaxed. There was little point being anxious in this situation, it would only cloud thinking and fear would only lead to rushed, impractical decisions. Instead, she had spent the time on the ship attempting to gather as much information as she could.
Shrugging casually in response to her companions statement, not really bothered by the observed failure she had seen earler. "It seemed like a pretty pathetic attempt to be honest so if that's all the guards have come to expect from us then I'll say we don't have much to be concerned about."
Nyx considers things for a moment before appraising her companion. "You know, assuming your plan to set yourself on file doesn't pan out, if we could find a way to get some serious alchemical components together, I might be able to get something realistic going if you were interested.
Nyx has spent the days watching and waiting, anything to pass the boredom.
Bathroom- buckets in the cells that get taken out for breakfast.
Showers- None
Medical care- There is a drunk old cleric of Cayden Cailean, a retired adventure named Zac. A nice enough sort, he was working off some kind of debt he owed. He lived in a tiny cell-like cabin.
Guards- There are large numbers of them. Most are the refuse of the Watch and other official Absalom groups. The Black Whale is not a favored assignment and usually kills careers. The guards tend to be brutal and un-talkative. Whatever training they receive usually revolves around how to keep the inmates quiet and under control. The ones you knows...
Fransque Lowell: A decent enough sort, usual the breakfast guard. Retired from the Watch, but has to support two ex-wives (don't ask).
Centius- A young Chelish man who hopes to 'make his mark' on the Black Whale. Quick with the lash and the boot. A nasty sort who enjoys the pain he inflicts. Rumored to have others ways of humiliation with female inmates but neither Razwin or Nyx have seen it first hand.
Ioney Jonker: One of the few female guards, she is trying to provide for a sick brother at home and was 'sent here' for being bad at sucking up to her bosses.
And of course, the chief warden- Kossrand, an elderly dwarf who seems to have eyes on the back of his head. Having run the Black Whale for over 50 years, he has seen and done it all. Rumored to be rich from kick-banks, they seems to be little hard evidence for it.
Boats come at irregular intervals bringing supplies, food and other equipment. Most of it is from local traders but the Aspis Consortium has a small contract and provides the heavier equipment the jail needs.
"An alchemist, eh?" Razwin asks ponderously with a raised eyebrow. His eyes go distant and he taps his forehead with a single finger. "Supplies would be difficult, I think. Prisons sometimes have a "supplier" of some sort; an inmate or sometimes even a guard who smuggles in small things to make the prison mildly more comfortable. The supplier gets kickbacks, the prisoner gets to be happier - or at least less upset, and the guards get to deal with fewer riots when the prisoners are happier."
"Of course, here..." the gnome muses, "Prisoner interaction seems limited to meals and work time. So getting supplies from someone else might be tricky at best. Might need to look for them and acquire them ourselves."
Razwin frowns. "Come to think of it, I don't believe I've asked you what you did before you got here, or what it was that led you to," the gnome makes a vague gesture towards the cell, "our new home."
Searching the cell for weaknesses; could a floorboard (or metal part of the floor if it is not wood) be loosened to hide supplies? Are the cell walls structurally sound and could one break through with the right tools?
Gathering information. Are there any "suppliers" in the prison? Does Zac have any medical herbs in his cabin or where he sees prisoners?
Nyx gives a dismissive gesture. "I was part of the Wasp Queens, and designed the raid they carried on on Absaloms bank's awhile ago. Then I decided to go at it alone. Eventually, I heard great things about this place, so intentionally decided to check it out for myself, check out the decor, that sort of thing. Not particularly impressed so far, but I'm keeping an open mind."
Nyx pauses for a moment. Already, her mind has come up with a dozen options she could leverage an escape from, but she cautions herself to slow down and take things step by step at a time. "Assuming we wanted to escape the boredom, the only way off, which be to take a boat. You know...if something mechanical suddenly experienced a fault...that would probably draw in an Aspis Consortium boat to err...fix the unforeseen damage that might have happened." Nyx muses.
Razwin has noticed little in the way of achemical supplies so far. Zac seems to rely on direct divine healing and potions (which seems to work well. The gnome has noticed a roaring trade in drugs however, focused on a former merchant named Karrack. The white-haired man seems to be able to 'get' things, for a price.
The cells are inspected daily when the inmates are working, but Razwin has a feeling they are cursory at best. That said, the outer walls are tough, made of old, water-logged wood. Even with the right tools, breaking through the hull would not be a trivial task. She also suspects there is magical re-enforcement used at some points. Hiding something is very possible however.
Razwin nods. "And even if we can't escape directly on that boat, they'll be like to bring new supplies over. And it's entirely possible that if anything goes missing, they'd brush it off as an inventory miscalculation." The gnome thinks for a moment. "Anything small, anyway."
"And when would this tragic mechanical malfunction occur?"
"Probably when, by a lucky coincidence, certain unrelated events align together" Nyx responds casually, thinking for a moment. "I'd need the alchemical items before the mechanical malfunction happened, and I'd prefer to have spotted one of the Consortium before, as well as gotten a good look at whatever papers they have. I'd also prefer we take down the heliograph and ensure that any other vessels suffer unfortunate accidents at the same time."
As Razwin and Nyx talk they hear the familiar sound of footsteps coming down the hall. Above, they can hear the mournful tolling of the ship's bell. Morning had come to the Black Whale.
Outside the cell a few guards appear, carrying the usual breakfast. Stale hardtack and a thin porridge. Two bowls are tossed in and Fransque says, in a boring monotone, "Hurry up and eat."
He looks around, keeping an eye on other guards (under his command), doing the same with other cells.
'Both in there?" he adds, looking at Nyx and Razwin, 'Didn't manage to escape last night?" Fran (as he likes to be called) is a decent enough sort. A heavy iron cudgel rests on his belt.
"We thought that you might have gotten upset if we left without saying goodbye", Nyx smirks at Fran as she looks distastefully at the food. It certainly wasn't much, but it was fuel, and that was all that mattered.
The gray-haired guard laughs shortly and nods, "Come on, I got a whole deck of people to feed here. No need to stand on ceremony. The food tastes like boiled fat anyway." his lips curl at the thought. The food for the guards isn't that much better apparently.
Nyx inclines her head, tilting it before gradually moving off and doing what she had been told."As usual, it's been a pleasure Fran" she remarks as she eventually hands the bowl back, the mornings ritual being all too familiar by now.
"Come on, I got a whole deck of people to feed here. No need to stand on ceremony. The food tastes like boiled fat anyway."
"I've never known anything to much appreciate being stood on, and I doubt ceremony is an exception," Razwin says in a far-off voice. "Floors, maybe, but I'll admit I've never asked one how it felt on the matter." The gnome stares at the floor, considering. He shakes his head vigorously, then hands a clean bowl back to the guard.
After taking the bowls Fran looks at Razwin strangely. 'Um, right. Anyway, stay behaved. we have a new batch coming on board today so the last thing I need is trouble. " he shakes his head, 'Supposed to be a tough lot too, so stay clear for your own sakes." With that he heads off, not to return until lunch.
"If they're half as tough as the food here, that's trouble already," Razwin says, rubbing at a sore jaw from attempting to chew the hardtack. "Tough how? Anyone I'd have heard of?"
Nyx files away the information that a new batch might be particularly tough or violent. Like in any new environment, Nyx predicted the new arrivals to throw weight around a little, and so knew that Razin and her would need to stand their ground if they got particularly aggressive - purely to indicate they were not the sort easily pushed around.
Of course, she expected the guards to be on high alert as well, so perhaps today wasn't best for escaping, unless the new arrivals were so unruly a riot could get started.
Considering this an option, albeit an unlikely one, Nyx contents herself (for now), thinking of various ways she could get her alchemical items back.
Before Fran hurries off he says, "Some underground Gorum fighting ring. A tough lot and apparently they want to test what they can get away with it. I'd steer clear of them, myself."
The morning passes slowly, the sun moving overhead and the waves lapping the Black Whale, as always. The unending monotony grinds every onward, a stifling effect, doubly so on the gnome. If the Bleaching ever had a physical presentation, a jail was it.
Finally, the bell overhead tolls and Fransque returns, this time with bowls of (once) warm stew. Again he thrusts them trough the bars, looking irritated. It is evident his morning has not been going well.
Behind him are the usual guards, wheeling a small cart filled with manacles. "Eat up you two, I'm not in the mood to dawdle. You are on deck duty today."
"Whats the matter Fran?" Nyx asks curiously. "Wheres the smile, I know you are usually excited to see your two favorite prisoners still here after a failed escape attempt" she smirks, before taking the stew and obediently digging into it.
As is usually the case with Nyx, the way she plays with the tone of her voice sometimes makes it difficult to tell tell if she is half serious or actually joking.
The portly guard shakes his fist at Nyx, "Enough of that. As for why I'm not grinning, it is because that fighting gang we got in, is twice the size they reported. We got nearly two dozen hardened killers coming aboard. I'm watch your mouth around them, they won't take your lip, like I do. Let's go."
With practiced ease they open the cell and start manacling Nyx and Marina.
Marina snorts at the guards prodding about the killers coming aboard. "We should be scared yeah? Well I would watch my own footing if I where you, Your the one's that gata handle the creeps.". with that she too eats the stew, but at a much more leisurely pace. Partially too annoy the guard, but also because the food was difficult too stomach. "What I wouldn't give for some better food."
As the door opens and the manacles are drawn Marina sigh's. "Ugh, Well, another day another... I don't know."
Nyx tries for a sly grin as she places her hands together for easy manacling. "Perhaps you should keep me unrestrained then, for my personal safety, we know that my lip sometimes takes some getting used to" she responds, trying to look hopeful.
Fransque, who would usually crack a smile simply shakes his head, "No jokes today, and not ricks. As for my saftey..." he holds up his metal club, 'I have this and you don't so be careful."
After being thoroughly manacled they (along with everyone else) led up the ship's stairs to the main deck. After the sweltering and dim interior the bright sun-washed deck, buffeted by a stiff breeze, is a relief.
Shading their eyes, they see the usual groups being mustered together and given various duties. Nyx and Marina are pushed toward a group congregated around a few rough buckets and a pile of holystones (which are used to scour the deck). It will be a long few hours of kneeling on a hard wooden deck, scrubbing it with water and stone, under the hot sun.
A fellow inmate, a younger man they don't know (but vaguely recognize) whispers to them, 'Hey, I hear the new fish is coming on soon. Should we make it a warm welcome?"
Nyx wants to avoid giving the impression that she is in charge of any order to take on the new entrants, but on the other hand, she knew she had to give an opinion to the fellow inmate that she was higher in the hirarchy. In other words, she had to give the impression that she could give orders, without appearing to.
"Why don't you make it a welcome like the rest of us experienced when we all first arrived?" she suggested, leaving it up to the inmate as to how severe the welcome might actually end up being, without being explicit.
The inmate, a scrawny man with sunburned skin and bloodshot eyes grins, "I was thinking a bit more." He kicks at a bucket full of soapy water then points to the system of ropes and nets over the side. "I thought maybe we'd soap up the ropes and decking there, and when they clamber aboard....well, see how well they can swim. Should be fun, eh?"
Marina stops her scrubbing of the deck in order too look up at the scrawny man as he speaks. "I would suggest you not murder people in cold blood. Especially since I'll now know it was you. They may be awful people, but I wouldn't wish the sharks on my worst enemy's." With he statement made, Marina goes back to scrubbing the deck.
"I'd prefer saving such a sport for some of the guards here...some of which are the real irritants, rather than using it on a fellow prisoner." Nyx responds in an icy whisper, picturing some of the nastier guards falling victim to the trick but without seriously considering the option. Her priority was escaping first and foremost rather than leaving a trail of bodies.
The prisoners looks bit a shocked at their negative stance but shrugs, "Fine then, just looking for a bit of fun. Boring as all the Hells on this ship. But I guess you'll just scrub decks like good little girls.." He turns back to his work, grumbling something to a friend of his.
Time passes and the hot sun beats down. both Nyx and Marina can feel the sunburn creeping across their necks and exposed upperarms. During a short water break, Nyx glances over the side and sees a small boat coming up, heavily laden with men.
One of the guards, a nasty sort with a hooked nose grins and points with his bludgeon, "Fresh meat. What do we say we let them have their way with some of the old fish,e h?" he pokes Marina in the (sunburned) shoulder.
Marina yelps at the sudden contact with her cooked skin. Damn, I looked so good pale... "Man, the guards are just as blood thirsty as the inmates. Why do you want too kill them? It cant just be for shits and giggles. Marina rub's her roasted arm trying to get the stinging sensation too go away. Now I remember why I hate the light. Darkness is definitely better As she thinks these thoughts her shadow shivers a bit in agreement.
Looking quizzically at her companion, Nyx raises an eyebrow, her scrubbing slowing a fraction. "I don't really want to kill them, heck, I don't really like killing anyone, but I wasn't going to tell that gentleman. Better that he thinks me devious than passive."
Nyx goes back to scrubbing, ignoring the guard stepping closer as she observes the boat pull up alongside. Her face darkens for a moment after his comments (although the guard wouldn't see, with her face being down turned while scrubbing), before the expression vanishes and becomes one of casual interest, as she glances up at the guard, face upturned.
"I don't think I got your name?" she asks him quietly mentally reviewing her memories on this ship and storing the man away to figure out later.
The guard doesn't even bother looking down, eyes fixed on the boat coming into view.
'Riesh, although i don't see why it matters to you. You'll never make it off this boat alive anyway." he spits on the clean part of the deck, then adding, "You miss a spot."
As the boat approaches the beached ship, they note four guards break off and began guarding the network of ropes leading up. It is a light guard, but where is there to go? The water below teems with sharks and the incoming boat is packed with armed guards.
Sneaking a peek now and then, Marina and Nyx can see prisoners, lots of them, being herded on the smaller boat and directed to begin the slow climb up ropes to the top. Alongside this, the heavy crane on the Black Whale swings into life and begins lowering toward the new vessel, heading toward a few crates in the back and what looks to be a heavily manacled figure.
Nyx observes the heavily manacled figure, trying to see if she could make out any further details, or if she could figure out his history from her own vast knowledge.
"Most interesting, I haven't seen that heavy crane operate since you first arrived on this boat" she smirks at the guard around her, still scrubbing hard at the deck.
The guard snarls and kicks over Nyx's water bucket. The soap stings the cuts on her hands and soaks her dirty clothes. 'Lazy." the guard says, 'Go re-fill the bucket."
As he talks prisoners start to slowly climb up the ropes, egged on by heavily armed guards. Various crates and boxes are lifted by the crane, the special prisoner in the back not being moved yet.
Nyx and Marina see the prisoner, who wanted to soap the ropes, move closer to the area, a soapy bucket in hand.
Marina sighs, seeing the idiot prisoner moving towards the rope. Standing up, she hustles over to one of the guards and rats him out. "Scuse me sir, that guy's trying too get all the on coming prisoners killed. He tried to get me in on it." She say's all the while pointing very obviously at the prisoner.
Nyx obediently swans off to refill her bucket, positioning herself close enough to the prisoner to intervene if required, but interested to see what the response was from the guards.
Marina approaches a guard (not the one currently dealing with Nyx). He looks at the halfling oddly then glances at the prisoner. Waving a club he jogs over, pushing the prisoners back.
After a brief tussle the the prisoners gets a few heavy blows with the club and the soap spills over the deck. The guard curses and shouts for some prisoners to clean it up.
Marina notes a few other prisoners looking at her balefully. A snitch is not very well-liked in the Black Whale.
Screw'em. We can taken if we have too. Better a snitch than a murderer. Marina sets back up with her scrubbing near where the prisoners that are coming on board will be headed, she plans to tell the biggest, toughest looking guy too come on about how she may well have saved his life right there.
Nyx winces slightly as her friend made herself instantly disliked. The net result was one she was happy with, however the ill feeling might need to something nastier down the road. Nyx had a feeling her timescale to escape would just go up a fraction.
Soon the new prisoners are reaching the deck, and they certainly are a tough looking bunch. They are mostly male half-orcs, covered with tattoo's and scars. Dyed hair seems to be common, and their clothes are tough, greasy leather.
Instantly the Black Whale guard swarm in, clubs at the ready. The new fish seem unfazed but no one raises a fist. Nyx and Marina both note the guards don't seem as keen to beat on the new guys, not yet.
The new prisoners are herded together on the deck, obviously to be given some speech. Kossrand is nowhere in sight yet though.
Below the crane begins to pick up the specially chained prisoner, and the guards below seem to relax as the chained figure rises toward the Black Whale.
Nyx observes the group, noting the guards reluctance to strike the new arrivals and therefore marking them down as potentially powerful allies to have on the boat. She doesn't say any words to them though, since she didn't directly aid them, and didn't really want to lie and take credit.
Marina stands next to the new arrivals, stretching from the long time spent scrubbing. She musters up all the courage she can and looks upwards at the nearest half-orc man. "So, um. That guy tried to kill you." She say's pointing too the bruised and beaten man. "Said he was going to soap up the rope. Feed you all to the sharks. But I stopped him before he got a chance." While speaking Marina looks a little worried, almost as if she where handling a vicious hound.
"You don't owe me anything."[b] She adds quickly after finishing her statement. [b]"I just hope we can... Colaborate on something in the future." With this Marina will hear out any response from the large men, then promptly gets back to scrubbing.