In the kingdom of Talingarde, many crimes may send you to Branderscar Prison, but the sentence has but one meaning. You are wicked and irredeemable. Each of you received the same greeting when you arrived. You were held down by rough hands and branded upon the arm with a runic F. The mark signifies ‘forsaken’ and the painful scar is indelible proof that each of you has betrayed the great and eternal love of Mitra and his chosen mortal vassals.
Condemned, you face at best a life of shackles and servitude in the nearby salt mines. Others might await the “gentle” ministrations of the inquisitors so that co-conspirators may be revealed and confessions extracted. Perhaps, some of you will be spared this ordeal. Perhaps instead you have come to Branderscar to face the final judgment. In three days, the executioner arrives and the axe falls or the pyre will be lit. Through fire or steel, your crimes will be answered.
You have all been chained together in the same communal cell dressed in nothing but filthy, tattered rags. Manhandled and mistreated, any finery you once possessed is either ruined or long lost. No special treatment has been given any prisoner – male or female, commoner or noble – all of the forsaken are bound and imprisoned together. Your feet are secured by iron cuffs tethered by one long chain. Your arms are secured to the wall above by manacles. A guard is posted right outside the cell day and night. Little thought is given to long term accommodations. At Branderscar, justice comes swift and sure.
Escape seems hopeless. You have all been well searched and every attempt to conceal anything on your person has failed. And if you could somehow slip your bonds and fly out of this prison, where would you go? Who from your former life would want anything to do with the forsaken? Despised, alone and shackled – all that you can do now is await your doom.
For each of you, your old life is over. For each of you, hope is a fading memory. For each of you, justice will be fairly meted. And who can blame fair Talingarde after what each of you has done?
Despite the uncomfortable circumstances, Ruedo allows himself to slip into a quiet contemplation. He takes in the others chained with him, fools such as he who thought that Talingarde had little interest in them. But they, in their own way, had caused quite a stir. Perhaps they yearned for what he preached: freedom. Only that physical freedom though. Caliban had been here once before. There would be no escape unless...
Ruedo pushes the foolish idea out of his mind. In spite of himself, he speaks up. "So with whom do I have the pleasure of sharing my final days with?"
She had been sitting quietly, contemplating the great and many things Lamashtu had promised her. She wondered if she changed if she would be strong enough to break the bonds that held them here. No....this was not the time, she had to wait...she had to be patient, though that was something that was never easy for Eri. She despised waiting for things. She didn't mind that they weren't feeding them, she would eat soon enough.
Brought out of her thoughts by the strange looking man's voice she looks up slightly, her hair obscuring most of her face. Wondering if she should be straight or a smart ass she decides on the former in case any of these people were capable enough to aid in the escape. Clearing her dry and parched throat she says in a young sounding voice, "I've been called many things...but my name is Eri."
Despite his experience with restraints Cyrus had long given up slipping out of his shackles, he had since turned his mind to fighting off the guards when his time came. Perhaps finding the bastard with the brand and having a go with him before making his escape.
Interrupted from his planning Cyrus turns to his cellmates inquiry. "I prefer Cyrus." he answers rather calmly.
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Getting a smirk on her face she just can't seem to help herself, "But my name isn't Cyrus, it's Eri."
Ruedo lets out a short snort. "I am Ruedo."
"Clever, but not clever enough to not get caught eh?" The monk taunts. "I hear only the worst of the worst end up in here, so does anyone have story to pass the time?" Cyrus asks.
She gets a pouty look on her face before shaking her head, "Not unless you feel like being sick."
Feeling bored she sighs, "So...when should we get out of here? I'm starving."
"Do you have a plan for getting out of here?"
"Mostly just wait for the right moment when the guards aren't expecting it, break free...or wait till the last minute when they release us, eat them and be on our merry way." She says with a slight shrug, "I'm not very good at timing things or being patient, so I need someone to tell me when and then we go."
"Minus the eating bits and that's about the plan I was working on..." Cyrus says noticeably paler than before.
She smiles and shrugs, "Well...how else am I supposed to eat? I haven't had a morsel for days and I'm simply famished, plus think of the jobs it'll open up."
"Ah, concern for your fellow person," Ruedo sighs. "How noble."
There was no plan in that young girl's head. Merely savagery and self-gratification. Cyrus might be more cunning than Eri, but Ruedo would wait to see what their other cellmate, silent so far, would have to contribute.
It is Eri this time who lets out a derisive snort, "I don't care in the least for these flesh bags. The only purpose they serve is as food."
Ruedo looks around the cell for anything of use to either escape or distract the guard.
A soft chuckle rises from the end of the goup of people chained to the wall. Though filthy and disheveled, clearly having suffered a violent capture, the woman from whom the sound had emerged possesses a primal, almost aggressive beauty, almost intoxicating in nature.
"So everybody has a plan do they?"
She shrugs, "Mostly I just eat people."
"Well that's...different. For enjoyment? Do you gain some special power from those you consume or just fancy the taste?" Ravanalonna asks in a purring tone.
"I just like it when they scream as I'm devouring them. Though children are especially tender and delicious." She says with a smirk of her own.
"Well we definitely know what got you in here." Ravanalonna says laughing. "How about you boys, what naughty deeds got you locked up in here?"
She shakes her head, "No....what got me in here was listening to an idiot, and then being too impulsive for my own good. It would have helped if I had known ahead of time that I was being sent after a religious nut bag that keeps guards around him all the time, including while he sleeps apparently."
"Turns out I make a fairly s!$# pirate." Cyrus says keeping his answer brief.
Trying to keep from giggling she asks, "A pirate? Aren't you supposed to have an eye patch and a bird or something? You don't really look very much like a pirate mister. Are ya sure that's what you were?" She presses her lips together to keep the giggle from escaping.
"Would you like me to sing a chanty to pass the time?" Cyrus asks keeping his composure. "What am I saying of course you do."
Cyrus takes a deep breath before beginning his solo.
One of the guards came by the cell and banged his club on the bars. "Knock it off you bags of s~#$. This ain't no social club." He then turned to leave.
"If you were the ship's entertainment then I understand completely." Ravanalonna quips.
"I'm parched is all, let me try again." Cyrus takes a moment to tune things up before picking up his song again.
This time, the guard that came before, came back with a bucket and another guard that carried a signal horn. The other guard opened the cell and the one with the bucket took a few steps in. Taking the bucket in both hand, he said, "Parched are ya? Then have a drink." With that, he threw the contents of the bucket on Cyrus, which turned out to be rather pungent urine.
The other guard then said, "Ethan, I don't think..." But one glare from the piss throwing guard shut him right up.
The guard, now known as Ethan, turned back to the pirate, "One more peep out of ya and I'll slap this across the face until ya stop movin." He said indicating the bucket. He turned and left the cell, having the other guard lock it once more.
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Cyrus chuckles and glares down the guard. "I'm going to enjoy snapping your neck when I get free." he hisses.
She pouts a little, "Oh don't kill him too quick. I always like it when they scream. What was that you said little c$&~ s%&#+*?! The only thing you probably get to have sex with is a bucket you ugly pile of $hit!" She yells at the piss throwing guard.
She doesn't seem to notice Ethan staring as she's too busy imagining the guards warm blood running down her muzzle as she rips out his entrails.
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"I think yonder guard fancies you, nameless stranger," Ruedo says to Ravanalonna. "I'm surprised I haven't been executed yet. I'm sure that they are ignorant of what my martyrdom will achieve. The truth of Mitra's deceitful ways shall be made apparent as I burn in a blaze of glory."
Ruedo's voice carries further as he continues. "Mitra, deceitful whore of Talingarde, who oppresses the masses, who makes eunuchs of those the priesthood find ugly! There are secret camps where they execute commoners that do not bathe daily, did you not hear? The priests fornicate with goats and offer virgins on pyres! Mitra, a cross-dressing Asmodeus, who bathes in the rank urine of the lords of Talingarde! Oh, how the people shall know this and riot!"
Suddenly, the other guard returned, opened the cell door, walked over to Ruedo, and jabbed his club right in the gut. "Don't you EVER befoul the name of Mitra you failed piece of dung." Turning about and left. Once again locking the cell door.
She laughs as the guard walks out again. Speaking loudly she says,
Ruedo laughs. "Who's 'befouling'? You resort to insults and jabs because you know what I say to be true!"
Ravanalonna's eyes narrow slightly as the guards turn to leave, a tiny glimmer of a grin spreading across her lips a moment later.
The sorceress chuckles musically. "The name's Ravanalonna. And yes I noticed his look. All the better for me to have him on his knees begging to do my bidding before this is all over. It's always easier when they're thinking with the wrong head." she says with an alluring grin.
Soon after, six heavily armed guards appear at the cell, led by the fat well-dressed Sergeant of the Watch that you recognize as Thomas Blackerly, the man who personally branded each of you. The memory of him laughing as he burned each of you still fresh in your minds. Yet now something seemed…different.
Pointing to Ruedo, the Sergeant says, “You there! That’s the scum! Get ‘em unshackled. If any of you makes trouble, they’ll earn a thrashing! Today’s your lucky day, scum. You’ve got a visitor. How you ever warranted such a fine lady is beyond me. Seems she wants to say good-bye. Now step lively. We wouldn’t want to keep her waiting.”
She looks at the pale man as if to ask, Do I change now and eat them, or wait?
Despite not knowing the meaning of the sudden appearance of Blackerly, Ruedo makes eye contact with Eri and shakes his head slightly.
She lets out a little sigh, but doesn't say or do anything else.
After two of the guards unshackled Ruedo, one of which bashed him up alongside the head, they roughly half dragged him from the cell and out of sight.
You are ‘escorted’ to a meeting room and not gently shoved into a chair. Standing opposite you is a hauntingly beautiful woman in an elegant black dress and soft silken veil. She looks as if she is headed to a funeral. Her hair is so platinum as to almost be white and her eyes are a vibrant almost unearthly green. She clearly has been weeping.
“Oh, dearest,” proclaims the unfamiliar woman. “I’m so relieved you’re alive!” She quickly turns to Tomas. “Could we please have a moment alone, good sir? For pity’s sake?”
Tomas goes blank for a bit and then quickly agrees. “Of course, my lady. For you,’ tis no problem.”
"So it looks like at least somebody os going to miss the pirate." Ravanalonna says in an amused tone.
She shakes her head, "I don't think he's a pirate Rava....Rav. Nope, uses too many big words to be a pirate. Besides he didn't have a wooden leg, or a hook hand or anything. Definitely not a pirate. I think they don't like him because he tells it like it is and these right bastards don't want anyone finding out about what a whore Mitra really is and how she eats babies and stuff." She comments with a far away look as she thinks about her last kill fondly, before her botched attempt on the bishop, or cardinal, or whatever the Hells he was. She didn't care, to her they were all sheep following a false and pathetic Goddess.
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Ruedo's expression is impassive but there is glimmer of curiosity in his eyes.
Cyrus shakes his head. "I think they might have hit you on the head one too many times, Ravanalonna. After all that singing I don't know how else you'd get the two of us confused."
“Have you forgotten me, dearest?” The unexpected visitor says with a smirk, dropping her pretense of grief “Call me Tiadora. We possess a mutual friend who would like to meet you and your fellow cell-mates. Unfortunately, our friend is unwilling to visit you in your present rather shabby accommodations so it seems you must escape. Don’t be so dour. Just because it’s never been done before is no reason you can’t be the first. If you manage that, cross the moors on the outskirts of town. On the old Moor Road you’ll see a manor house with a single lantern burning in the second story. There our mutual friend waits. That is all I know. He did want me to give you this.” She takes off her silken veil and wipes away a few fake tears with it. “Something to remember me by, dearest.”