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Bright light pierces your eyes as the door grates open, overwhelming your senses for a moment. Before you can react two pairs of strong arms grab you from either side. As your vision returns to you Agent Francis stands outlined in the doorway. ”Take the light in boy, this will be the last time you will get to see it. Shame you did something to deserves this. But ya did bring this onto yourself.” He turns to go but pauses and looks back at you, ”Oh, and don’t try anything funny. We got quite a few precautions in place. The first you may realize is the Silence on you.” The two guards holding onto your arms reaffirm their grip on you, a sharp pain accompanying their tighter grip.
Moving outside you see the streets of your home, a few people have stopped to watch as you are dragged to a small carriage, others hurry along not wanting to be involved in anyway. Taking in the scene sparks a small bit of nostalgia, or perhaps hatred for the Empire and the predicament you find yourself in. Just as abruptly as you were grabbed you are suddenly thrown into the carriage, none too gently. The carriage has a musky smell, somehow familiar yet foreign to the senses. The door slams behind you and all light is cut off.
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A voice drills into your head, nagging incessantly at the back of your mind, ”Wake… company… lonely… punched a guard…. ….. Opening your eyes everything is a blur, the ceiling keeps going in and out of focus, the stonework shimmering, never quite settling down. ”Oh goody, you are finally awake. Now you can keep me company.” Your bones ache as if from working nonstop hard labor for a week straight. A little gnome jumps on top of you eliciting a sharp pain resonating throughout your body.
Phrr's head swam like a goldfish through pudding. Thoughts coming in lazy leaps and staggered bounds when they came at all.
He had been brought to the prison at long last, his legs screaming to give out after all the walking they had subjected him to after he bit one of the guards on top of everything else, self defence being a fairly weak defence by this point even if he had bothered to make it, exhausting as it was eh had enjoyed the last chance to see the forests and feel the fresh breeze on his face. There had been a man, he starte giving a speech, then... A rush of vertigo, everything seemed to go white for a moment then... Something about silence, he'd been doing a good enough job of that already... a list of rules, expectations... don't go causing trouble, escape isn't an option, look at the teacher when he's speaking to you... A gnome shouting for him to wake up...
His mother disappointed in him for coming home so late, telling him it was dangerous...
No... That was a long time ago... Years, his mother was... she was... Was!!... But no, that was a long time ago as well, still the rush of sudden anger brought freshly back to the surface was enough to bring it around... What do you know the shouting gnome was happening now.
Phrr opened his eyes, or he thought he did, he was lying on his left side, face pressed against cold stone, rough in places but mostly worn smooth by all the others who had passed over it. Phrr slowly pulled himself up and the dim torchlight of the cell nearly blinded him, everything seemed hazy, bleary, indistinct. He pulled himself up into a seated position looking to the left then the right and nearly jumping out of his skin as he saw the gnome to his right, wondering why he hadn't seen him.
The gnome smiled as he saw Phrr's bright yellow left eye turn towards him, the right eye clouded over and pale behind the socket nearly swollen shut around it. "Finally, someone else is awake, I've been going half bonkers without anyone to talk to, this cell is utterly boring, wound up punching one of the guards just to have something to do! although he did get the better of it." The gnome exclaimed, revealing a newly gap-toothed smile and blinking through his black eye then stepped up into the young catfolk's lap, eliciting a deep hissing growl as he agitated the cuts, scrapes, bruises and burns left over from the long walk and longer "interrogation". The pronounced scowl and prolonged deep-throated hiss eventually causing the gnome to relent, "Oh fine fine you need time to recover I get it I'll try to get everyone else up." He enthused stepping off of Phrr's lap and heading along to the next unconscious cellmate, hopping up onto their back and starting to yammer in his ear, never seeming to need to breath.
As for Phrr he settled himself heavily against the wall, picking road gravel and dust from wounds, occasionally literally licking his wounds to clean them of the road dust and enjoying the temporary soothe of the cold stone against his back as he looked over himself, patches of fun still missing against scabbed burns and cuts, growing in white rather than black over some of the first injuries, not allowing the scars to hide fully.
His body was aching all over. Since he had been thrown in jail he had been treated to countless injustices and cruelties, and to top it off now it felt like someone was hammering on his chest.
Wait.
Something in his brain finally ticked over to inform him that yes, someone actually was hammering on his chest, and maybe you should wake up and stop it, hmm?
Riley Thorne spluttered for breath, opening his eyes to the curious sight of a gnome atop his chest, fist raised. "Hey, now you're awake too! Two people to talk to, that's great! Better than making my own fun, I'll tell you."
"Urgh." Riley grunted, clearing his throat a few times, and waiting until the un-paladin like thoughts of swift violence had moved to the back of his mind. The chilling stone bed he found himself on definitely helped in that regard. "Who are you?"
"Milbin Trickbreaker!" the gnome replied, giving a mock salute with a wide grin on his face.
"Be a good man and give me a minute?"
The gnome nodded and jumped off him, going down the room to torment some other poor souls. Sitting up against the wall, he found himself across from the other conscious creature in the room.
Until this moment, Riley had never seen one of the catfolk before, and he would have been prepared to write them off as a myth were it not for the one in front of him licking itself. Riley crossed his arms across his chest and just watched it, comparing it to the tales he had heard.
Trusk carefully steps over an outcropping in the cave floor as he makes his way through the tunnel.
I don't remember that being there... I didn't take a wrong turn did I?
Looking around to get his bearings again, he notices what he had done wrong. The walls here were barren, devoid of all life. The tunnel itself was dead quiet, with only echoes coming from behind him. He had traveled too far down this path and ended up actually inside the arrival zone. A look of shock and realization splashed across his face.
I've got to get out of here. This isn't safe. They could send someone down any minute, and if they do I'm dead.
Turning around, Trusk runs as fast as he can back the way he came. After a few minutes he begins to see the tell-tale signs of life growing on the walls again, and even passes a couple moles which scurry away frantically. Knowing that he's at least outside of the blast zone, Trusk slows to a leisurely walk and begins mumbling to himself in the darkness.
"I've got to keep a better mental map than that. I got lucky they didn't send anyone down while I was stupidly wandering. Can't help people if I die before they get here"
He finishes his chastisement by balling a fist and rapping his knuckles against the side of his head a few times. With his self-punishment complete, his thoughts turn to the moles he passed as he ran.
I think I just found dinner...
Iozif dreams of home.
The vague sensation of turnip stew passes over his mind, and an image of his mother and father swims into view. However, Iozif can feel himself waking. Not yet, Iozif commands his unconscious mind, Don't wake up. But the dreams steadily march away in his mind, and are replaced by someone's voice coming from above. "...is everyone so sleepy? I'm not sleepy at all!" Iozif's eyes open.
The boy blinks twice as soon as his sleepy eyes are open, not sure why he is in such a dark place. His throat burns terribly, his head aches like he's knocked it hard, and he feels feverish. Above him squats a gnome who was previously shaking Iozif's shoulder, one who exclaims, "Halfway to everyone being up! Or wait, how many did I wake up now? Oh well, I guess I'll find out!" And proceeds to move away from Iozif to the next body.
Iozif coughs twice, hard, then sniffles his nose and wipes it with his arm. He looks around the very gloomy room as best he can, not able to make out much besides the forms of a few other people around him. He scoots himself closer to the figure on his right, a man sitting against the wall with his arms crossed, and stage whispers to him, "Hey...Where are we?" Iozif breaks into another fit of coughing, a little of which is sent in the man's direction. His throat burns terribly.
Riley turned his head slightly to look at the man sitting next to him. Well, more like a boy. What had he done that had so vexed the Empire? The question was almost moot now; no matter their crimes, real or imagined, in a few hours they would be cast into the prison forever.
"We're in Terminus. The thick walled prison, and the last place any of us will be seen by those who live up here. From here... we can only go down." He'd only heard of it before, and it had been such a long time ago, tales heard from the comfort of the palace. Being inside it was surreal, but only indicative of worse to come.
Unfolding his arms, Riley swung his legs over the side of the 'bed', testing the floor. "So. What are we all in here for? Can I get some confessions going?"
Gears slowly turn inside Iozif's head. It takes until the end of Riley's question for the words to fully sink in, and Iozif thinks to himself, "Prison?" His eyes widen and he becomes more alert as he tries to process the situation. What have I done? Iozif remembers as hard as he can, but the last thing he can remember is entering the city gates on a perfectly normal delivery job. As he thinks harder on the subject, something twinges inside his gut, and his stomach feels like it does a little backflip. Iozif moves away from the man for a moment, trying to compose himself and not get sick. He is successful in the effort.
Iozif doesn't know what to say to Riley. He sighs, scratches his chin, shrugs and finally says, "I'm really not sure." It's at this point that he notices the pack sitting on the ground in front of him. He looks to either side at the other prisoners, and once he realises the pack is intended for himself, he proceeds to look inside it. A short perusal grants Iozif a large array of survival gear. He recalls the stories he's heard about the Prison; how they will be swallowed up by the earth and never allowed to return, how those that survive the first few minutes without getting mugged, or raped, or worse, simply starve and die or are eaten by horrible monsters. He had always assumed these were just rumors, but now, sitting in this cell, Iozif begins to panic.
Frepply had found that agent Francis listened to no type of plea or bargaining...
He took in the sunlight and would have preferred a sky full of stormy clouds.
He did not even question the silence comment, he was flung in and did his best to land as if he had jumped of his own volition. That failed miserably.
The gnome is beating on his chest...
He eyed the gnome and quipped at him
"At least tell me you got a small wooden shield I asked for....how's the arm?"
Phrr spat out a last mouthful of bloody gravel and slowly began scrabling one hand up the wall as he attempted to stand. His half gone vision swam for a moment and after a short streach he thought better of things for the moment and settled back down against the cold stone, the rough surface scraping at his cuts a little. A light hiss rolled from his throat at the sensation but he otherwise didn't seem likely to join into the conversation, Even with the gnome starting to babble at him again. [b["Ah, you finally feeling better kitty? So what did you do to get in here eh? No don't tell me don't tell me, got caught stealing milk right. Hehee, ah don't be such a stick in the mud alright alright keep working of feeling better then."[/b]
Frepply looks around once he opens his eyes more than a sliver, he at first thinks this prison is much smaller than he had heard, but he soon recognized the holding area for what it is....
Frepply looked around the small area for any usable materials, stone, wood, even checking the bedding. With two rocks a grippli of the lashtongue tribe could fashion tools.
Iozif looks around the room, the thought dawning on him that the rest of the people gathered here are probably criminals who could kill him if they wanted to. He first eyes the man he whispered to, who seems to be dressed in well-to-do clothes. The man's eyes meet his, and Iozif quickly turns to the next prisoner. He barely sees the feline figure in the gloom of the cell, the bright eyes standing out in contrast. The boy recognizes Phhr as a catfolk, as he's heard of them but never seen one because of their comparable scarcity.
To the other side, Iozif notes a frog-looking humanoid close by, apparently searching around the area for something. Iozif thinks briefly of talking to him, but instead holds his tongue, not knowing anything about this stranger and now afraid of provoking anyone. He also sees an elf in the far gloom, though he doesn't seem to be moving. Whether he's asleep or not, however, is impossible for Iozif to tell. The last one he sees is the gnome who woke him, apparently still moving about the chamber. Iozif peers further into the darkness, and can barely see another shape that might be another prisoner, but can't see anyone beyond that. He reflects on this rather mixed group of people.
Most of these strange one wear clothes he glances around uncertain if their is a custom to speaking or how one should go about electing a chief of the tribe, and if this even is a tribe. After awhile his curiosity gets the better of him.
"I am Frepply of the Lashtongue tribe, we live in the badlands near one of the great cities, I have not made sense of this which is going on..I am just out of the egg....are we to be as a tribe?"
Iozif stares for a short time at the little frog-man, at first surprised he can speak the Common tongue so fluently with such a different facial and vocal structure. He thinks about the words spoken by him. Well this is unusual. What sort of crime could this little fellow have committed? He seems like such a nice one, and apparently he's quite young too. Maybe that's why he's so small.
Iozif interrupts his train of thought to go into another fit of coughing, bringing his hands up to his mouth to cover it. After several seconds he finishes coughing and spits onto the floor. Ugh, I feel terrible. Must have picked something up on the way into the city. His eyes feel puffy and his throat is very sore. Iozif closes his eyes and leans back, the lack of hostility from the other prisoners temporarily setting his mind at ease. Nobody here really seems like the criminal type. Maybe there was some kind of mistake, and we aren't going to the prison after all.
With his eyes still closed, Iozif responds to Frepply, "Ah don't think we're a tribe, sir. After all, ah just met ya." Shortly after giving this response, Iozif realises he doesn't know whether the frog-man is indeed a man, and hopes that his guess was correct. Turning to Riley and opening his eyes slowly, he starts to find his voice, "Ya said we're inna jail cell. Well ah don't know 'bout any of you folks, but I ain't done a think to end up in jail. Ya think maybe we ain't bein' thrown into the Prison like ya said?" If it weren't so dark, Riley might be able to see a glimmer of hope in Iozif's eye.
"I wouldn't waste time on optimism in this case." Riley snorted, rubbing his wrists and ankles in a rough attempt to restore circulation to them. "Unless there's been a really bad mistake, then we're all prison bound. I was made quite certain as to the fact that I was."
Cocking his head he looked to the strange one who had spoken before the boy. "I'm sorry, but is that a frog? Are... you a frog?" He leaned forward, looking at Frepply with an interested eye.
Phrr, having somewhat accustomed himself to the raw ache of his wounds, had rolled his head to one side as the conversation began to flare up. His good eye shining in the light of the torch like a disc of polished gold as the other lay hidden in shadow, the clouds hanging over it keeping the light from catching. He watched the three for a time, some slack-jawed country yokel to be thrown into the pit where he could die without offending anyone's sensibilities, some noble's son who took a step farther than what dear old dad could sweep under the rug someone who had grown fat off the decadence that had killed so many and a... "Hmm... What do you know, theh rreally arre rreal" he thought, he had seen mention of a type of frog that could walk among the higher races once but had skimmed passed it due to the obscurity of the odd little myth.
There was the sound of scraping stone as Phrr pulled himself up along the wall, a slight grunt as he shifted weight onto something he hadn't realized was injured. "Yeas, Whe are all herre damned. Comdemned to tha deep pit wherre we will neverr see the light of day again. Told we will be forreverr lost in tha darrk, torrn aparrt biit by biit by demons and beasts, and tha only consellation is that all the tales arre false, Lies!! Forr frrom therre no one everr rreturrns."
Frepply had turned a bublous eye toward the man who was taking a close look at him, he licked his eyeball as he tended to do when he wanted to see things differently...
The cat creature interupted with some type of caterwalling that Frepply could not make out except to say that the creature was none too happy about the current situation.
Frepply pointed one of his spindly fingers, the one humans would call his thumb at his chest as he proudly proclaimed.
"Frepply, Grippli, Frepply not a frog."
He looked at the other man...
"Tribes a must no grippli lives in no tribe, no tribes grippli dies soon."
With Riley and Phrr's replies, Iozif sighs, and his sigh turns into a whooping cough. Yeah, I suppose they're right. This is a cell after all. Where else would we be going but the prison? He takes a few deep breaths and his coughing dies down. Iozif thinks about the current situation and what it means.
If I'm going to prison, I either did something I don't remember or I didn't do something and the guards are mistaken. If I can't remember anything past getting to the prison gate, does that mean I went into some kind of blackout rage and committed a crime? Patients have reported that sort of thing before, but I always figured they were making up stories to cover themselves, and what would I be so mad about anyways? Iozif isn't any closer to understanding why he's here, and for now he decides he won't discover the reason until he can talk to his jailors.
Iozif then ponders the replies of the frog-man, who is apparently named Frepply. He realises that he hasn't introduced himself yet, but doesn't feel bad about it considering the circumstances. He says to him, "Hello there Frepply the Grippli, my name is Iozif Alamancar."
Frepply looks at the man....
"Iozif of the Alamancar tribe?"
He continues to look at the others wondering where he will find a tribe since everyone knows an individual needs a tribe to help him survive.....
The lump in the corner of the room moves and shifts as Erol slowly awakens and rolls over. The dwarf sits up stiffly, one hand resting on the wall and the other groping around the floor for purchase. When he finds the pack lying next to him he pulls it close, but leaves examination of it for a later time. As his eyes clear he panics for a moment and feels at his wrists, visibly relaxing when he sees that the metal bracers he wears are still in place.
With that finished he looks around at his new companions. "I am Erol Deepdelver," he says as means of introduction. "Who are all of you?" He eyes those around him warily, but none of them seem to be of a decidedly bad sort.
Iozif looks at the frogman, considering for a second or two before replying, "Alamancar is the name of my family. I suppose a family is the closest of what we have to a tribe. Have you been in human settlements before, little one?" Iozif realizes after he says it that he knows nothing of gripplis, and after all Frepply could even be larger than a normal grippli. He hopes the wee frog man does not take offense at the slip of the tongue.
Iozif doesn't notice the small lump in the corner of the room until it starts to speak. When asked by Erol who he is, Iozif states, "I am Iozif Alamancar, and this is Frepply the grippli." He looks the dwarf over, curious about all his cellmates. He ponders what the dwarf did to end up here. I think I've heard his sort are usually fond of gold. Maybe he is a thief? However, Iozif knows enough to recognize this may just be a stereotype made by the people like him from his home village who haven't met many non-humans during their life. Strange that so many of us in this room aren't humans. He bites his lip, pondering the situation, and looks about the gloomy room silently.