You have all been chained up, each in their own cell, stripped of any possessions and not even a scrap of cloth afforded you to clothe yourself. Manhandled and mistreated, beaten and weak, any finery you once possessed is either ruined or long lost. No special treatment has been given any prisoner – male or female, humanoid or otherwise. Your neck is secured by a chain to the floor in the centre of your cell, allowing barely a metre of room for you to move in. A guard is posted right outside the cell block day and night, checking on you every hour like clockwork, clubbing any who make noise, taking joy in their task.
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 meted in an arena surely to be stacked against you. The guards have made sure you know what awaits, boasting often. Knight and Paladins, the best Talinguarde has to offer are sure to make quick work of your damaged bodies and weakened efforts. And who can blame fair Talingarde after what each of you has done? The fact that you exist is enough for them.
The Captain rattles his bony fingers along the bars of his cage, waiting for the inevitable. Time doesn't matter that much when you are a skeleton, but you still get bored.
Eat-in-Shadow lurks in the darkest corner, away from the light. More than once he thinks about conjuring up darkness, looking for comfort in the shadows, but for the moment he refrains to.
You feel weak ever since you were chained up. As if you've been drained of strength.
Since being chained here you have felt a burning inside you similar to the time a cleric channeled holy energy to kill you. The guards have bragged about the plan to bless your bones after you are defeated by the knights to stop you coming back.
The bright lantern lighting up your cell hurts your eyes. You feel powerless to change your form as if something is keeping you in your base grotesque form.
A bulging, greyish form crouches in the cell with it's head bowed and muttering issuing from swollen lips. Raising it's head, a fat and bruised orc is revealed with lank black hair.
Augh sighed and felt even more naked without the comforting tools of his trade upon him. No smells of the cooking pot, the noises of the stockyard and the energy of a busy day. He could barely muster the strength to move and just sighed and lowered his head again.
Krueger sighs.
"I'll believe it when I see the next life" he mutters, his raspy dry voice like the wind past an desert graveyard.
The only thing he is concerned about is his sword. The Dunblade has been with Richter a long, long time, and he would hate to lose it.
Igoroskandrallanotly sat in the center of his cell, saying nothing and, to all outward appearances, doing nothing. Internally his mind alternated between rage and calm, controlled thought. Curse that weak fool Versarius and his poison! I may have destroyed all trace of its creation and all the doses, but I didn't think it would linger this long. It has sapped me of so much of my power. Still, at least he's dead - but not before the idiot brought the guards down on me to get me thrown in here. Worthless wizard!
The rage subsided, and his calm, rational mind took over. Now, consider your surroundings and your resources. You are superior to these human fools who seek to enslave you. Now, what is there that you can use?
Igoroskandrallanotly began looking about the cell block. Let's see...well, there's an Orc, if I need some dumb muscle. Some sort of creature that hates the light and shrinks from it. Might be useful, might not be. Could also make for a good distraction. Hmmm...some sort of skeletal undead. Assuming it isn't mindless, it might be strong enough to help me escape. The fools will regret not killing me outright - I haven't lived a long time by being careless. Igoroskandrallanotly would have frowned, if his face were currently in its human guise. It knew it was old, but so much of its memories were clouded by the poison. Igoroskandrallanotly almost wished he could bring Versarius back to kill him again for the indignity he'd forced upon him.
There were others in the cells, too, but he couldn't quite make them out yet.
The hound prowls his cage, occasionally growling and glaring balefully at the guards. He is careful to never speak a word, in either Common or Sylvan. Once in a while he allows his injured leg to collapse under him, feigning a pained whimper each time.
If they believe me to just be a dumb, wounded animal, my chances of survival improve. I must survive, and escape, before I can begin hunting every one of the prey in this country.
Igoroskandrallanotly finally saw the limping hound prowling its cage. Watching it carefully, he considered it a moment before thinking, That hound is far more cunning than it appears. The guards are fools if they believe it to truly be vulnerable - but then, the guards being fools is what I'm relying on for my escape. That isn't a normal dog or wolf, either - it could be very useful.
The ghoulish figure in the corner speaks with a low, coarse voice. Any child would recognize it as the voice of the monster hiding in the closet at night. "Eat-in-Shadow wonders why the Talireans locked it in light and iron. He wonders why he has not been hunted to the death. And he wonders whether the others here are also foes of the Talireans and their sun-god."
The large orc mutters. Always enemies, as long as I can remember. We don't know why it is, some lost feud mebee.
Igoroskandrallanotly's white eyes blink in surprise as the Orc talks - not only in the common tongue, but in a complete sentence with first-person pronouns and everything. Responding to the little ghoul, the doppelganger says, "They haven't killed you because they're going to have you slain at a nice public festival by a knight so they can show off how great their king and that insipid sun god are, and how blessed his champions are. Horribly inefficient and wasteful, in my opinion, but then, I'll suffer the same fate, I'm sure. I'm curious, little one, what might you be?"
"Eat-in-Shadow is the fear of dark before the sleep, the "who" when someone calls "who's there?". He was shaped by terror and violence, torn from the Unseelie by means of a name, he has little form of its own but can take on the shape of nightmares. His home is the night and he carries the night where he treads. And who are the ones who speak to Eat-in-Shadow?"
Just call me Augier. Clan called me Aghh the Unclean because I stink.
Another shapeshifter. How fortuitious. "Well, Eat-in-Shadow, I am Igoroskandrallanotly. If you struggle with the name, Igor will suffice for address. I, too, can take change my form, although my abilities are temporarily limited," Igoroskandrallanotly said, his face grimacing at the last. I hope it's only temporary. He merely glances at the Orc. Well, his name is appropriate, even if he seems more intelligent than the typical brute. Although for other orcs to think him smelly...well, I'm glad my cell isn't next to his.
"Captain Richter Kruegar, unfortunately without Company presently. I concur with the assessment of the situation. Talingard is an incredibly boorish nation." his raspy voice whispers between the bars to the rest of you.
When they chained you up here your mind felt foggy, drained, and you cannot feel the ability to probe others' minds anymore.
In addition to the metal collar and chains like everyone else, the guards have muzzled you.
A hulking blue-skinned Ogre Seems entranced by a small rat sitting on its toe. Finally, he regards the others. Before speaking with a deep, gravelly but almost posh voice.
Well, I certainly don't see why I am here with you lot... No offense intended of course, merely that all I did was try to keep my property. Yet it seems an ogre isn't allowed to own property here! And god forbid you eat an intruder or three! Ah but where are my manners. Being bound and gagged is no excuse for rudeness I say! I am sir Reginald Oswell, its a pleasure to meet you lot.
He shifts around, trying to get more comfortable in the chains, to no avail.
Igor stares nonplussed at the Ogre. What is this? The intelligent brute assembly? That ogre's speech is even more refined than the orc's! "Well, clearly your mistake was appearing as an Ogre. You should have used magic to make yourself look human." A test. A well-spoken Ogre who understands the concept of property might be more open to magical alterations.
You're head has been hurting ever since they chained you up. Wait, not just your head. Every muscle in your body aches
In another cell, a sickening being squats. Its proportions seem at once all wrong, the bowed legs both longer and shorter than they should be, the arms limply drifting yet supporting its weight on thick spindles bent at unnatural angles. Its face is half-hidden in shadow but that doesn't fully explain why the features aren't distinct, apart from a gaping jaw and... some number of eyes. Its color might be the hue of fresh vomit, or perhaps diseased blood, mixed with soured milk or rotting bones? And the whole body seems to pulse at an irregular tempo, more writhing or squirming like so many worms than a single creature. Whatever the case may be, it gives off the impression of smiling.
It's been silent so far, but as conversation picks up, one arm snakes up--or is it something else?--and wraps around a bar of the cell. "Sentences passed, yes, judgment and iron clapped on and an execution to be held. Safe and victory is believed, yes, but understanding, no, not now." The voice is like many voices, not quite synchronized into one. "There is a name given, yes. Ngogh'gnish." The sound is decidedly unnatural, and sounds forced, as if physical throats were not made to produce such syllables.
Reginald shakes his Oh, what I would not give for but a moment to rub my head. It is hammering something fierce. As for appearing human, I have no such magic, besides, I detest illusions. But, that is besides the point sir. I see no reason why an Ogre, especially as one as pleasant as myself is forbid from ownership of land. Its down right unethical! Quite frankly, I had hoped to reason with those in the bureaucratic system when I came with the guards, however, it seems that was but a fools hope. I feel that in order for any fair laws to be made, quite a shake-up would be needed to greatly disturb this entrenched bigoted government. He sighs again.
More intelligence in Squeaks here, than any guard I've met. At the mention of his name, the small field rat looks up from his spot on the Ogres toe before climbing up and cuddling down on his head.
An elven skeleton steps up to the bars of her cell, looking out at the others, though sparing the odd glare at her captors. Would that she could recreate her flesh disguise, if only out of spite, to make them uncomfortable. She knows she can't convince them that she doesn't belong, they already know what she is, but without any clothes, normal human prudishness should keep them from paying too much attention to her (or force them into internal struggle from looking at a beautiful, naked elf woman while knowing that she's nothing more than a living corpse).
She speaks, her voice dry and ever-so-slightly raspy, though still distinctly feminine, "You must admire the hypocrisy. The sheer amount of willful ignorance it takes to imprison and torture sapient beings while declaring yourself holy and good is truly inspiring. Imagine what kind of works they could create if they turned that effort towards worthwhile endeavors, instead of patting themselves on the backs."
Igoroskandrallanotly merely laughs at Reginald's response, a rasping sound that seems more an echo of a laugh than an actual laugh. "As one who's spent a lifetime infiltrating human society, let me give you the first two lessons of doing so. First, know the society's legal system. Second, don't look out of place. Tell me, did you legally purchase your property, or did you kill someone to get it?"
Looking at the strange...shape...the doppelganger says, "Ngogh'gnish, is it? Tell me, what might you be?"
Another skeleton in a cell this one apparently female. These dungeons were proving to be quite the interesting gathering. "Sapient beings? Haven't you heard? We aren't sapient beings, we are monsters who commit murder and eat children while performing blasphemous rites to dark gods. If they had not planned to have us killed in mock combat by some knight or other at a festival, you and I wouldn't be having this conversation - we'd be dead. Well, I'd be dead, and you'd just be a pile of bones again."
"Don't get your hopes up. I've seen all the kings of the current ruling family rise and fall and they're all boring and bland in their own way. Except for Markadian the third but they called him mad and threw him from a tower."
The pleasant, almost musical voice comes from a small, grey skinned humanoid creature. Though it at first glance one might mistake it for nothing but a strange Gnome there is something distinctly off aout the small woman. Perhaps it's the patterns of scars that trace her entire body or the many piercings. Her large, golden eyes appear to pierce anyone caught in her gaze, as if she looks straight into your mind.
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"Intelligence, hypocrisy, all is one and same and not, yes, no, could be but to comprehend is without," the gibbering thing comments. The many voices are without emotion, droning as if speaking some bizarre but irrefutable truth. "There are always works, will always to have been, and were, and will have been no more, come eternity. Imagining to understand without meaning..."
The voices trail off when the doppelganger addresses the figure, and its head might shift to focus on the shapeless humanoid. "What is cannot be spoken, all is, none is, to know will never have been truth. Better to speak of what is not, what cannot, and yet all can. There are other worlds than these. Beyond and ago, ahead, here." The body writhes as if in exultant agony, then settles, as the voices rise to a crescendo and suddenly cease. A lengthy pause, and then: "Eons have passed before. Worlds are, but others were and will. This form may be but Ngogh'gnish is. More cannot be spoken. Understanding cannot. But blasphemous rites, dark gods, yes, always. Old ones, dead ones, sleeping ones."
At the mention of madness from the strange gnome, a hideous gurgling that might be some alien approximation of laughter comes from the creature. Its eyes roll and meet the gnome's gaze for a moment, and the mind that gaze looks on, if there is any, seems beyond comprehension.
When they chained you, you felt more solidly in this plane than ever, the binding between you and the half-orc feels unbreakable and permanent, death here would be forever.
The cold metal hard against your bones feels very heavy and uncomfortable, you almost remember what fatigue once felt like. Somehow you seem to be unable to create your suit of skin as a barrier between the metal and your bones.
Some sort of holy glow seems to come from your neck collar and you can't seem to sense the Dark Tapestry like you usually can. Something mutes your connection to it and weakens you.
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If only she could crawl out of the damn light and the chains and be in the dark where she belonged. Listening to the others talk of this or that and the taunting of the guards only infuriates her more. Why has she fallen so low? What has. She done for this disfavor she wonders. at least on my lips he names of my fellow prisoners will not go unremembered. I will speak your names. she says finally.
Nogogh'gnish seems to be not of this world... how fascinating. If I had the chance, I would study him, but such is not to be, I suspect.
At Muscini's words, Igoroskandrallanotly thinks to themself, Madness...I remember this mad king. Vaguely. Why can't I remember more!? Damn that fool Versarius! His poison has cost me so much - and now these guards prevent me from even being able to sense a stray thought, to say nothing of reading them!
Finally able to see the spidery woman as she speaks, the doppelganger says, "Remembering our names is fine, but only if death happens here - else we shall remember our own names."
"Remember Eat-in-Shadow's name, fellow shadow-dweller, if you wish, but you shall not remember mine, for who I was died when the name was given."
Listening to the more alien of her fellow inmates, Lierin rolls her eyes. Or she would, if she had them. The slight glow in her empty sockets flickers enough to give the same impression, though. Shaking her skull, she mutters softly to herself, "Living proof that sapience and sanity are not mutually inclusive."
She shrugs in the general direction of the drider, "It's Lierin, but there will be no reason to mourn my passing. Anyone who would, already did. A long time ago."
When the Gnome looked at the weird aberration she just smiled before turning away.
"Muscini. And yes, I intend to get away from here though I'm not sure yet how. I've been waiting too long to waste my current state on this sorry spectacle." While her tone is pleasing throughout the last part is clearly tinged with frustration.
Reginald, Sir Reginald Oswell for posterity, as for my property, I did no killing no! Frankly, I had been intrigued by the old mans rituals, and watched him on many occasions until an idiot brother of mine brought the entire clan with him. They did quite a large amount of damage, to the manor and the old man, from who I managed to acquire quite a voluminous vocabulary. More so after he died, either way, I took up residence there, away from my more... mentally challenged brethren, bless them. I even paid taxes! To be frank, I owe much to the old mans library, though I believe it to all be confiscated at this time sadly. Considering the circumstances. He sighs
I'd rather have just been left alone to pursue those books. Alas... He smiles, as best an ogre can, wistfully.
Tongue of man and my people are the only ones I have had need of. Augier sighs. His eyes look down to see a scrawny, dirty cat sniff at the floor. How did this cat get in here? No one else was seeing it.
The cat looked at him with evil yellow eyes and drifted through the bars.
Starving cat, starving cat.. Augier whispered to himself.
"Names spoken, yes, if speaking can have been," the thing mutters. It had seemed to rouse during its prior speeches, but now it's settled once more, squatting awkwardly on the floor of its cell. "Who was died, who is will have, so it has always to have gone..." The voices drift away again into incoherent murmurs, whispers that would unsettle a less motley and monstrous cohort.
When Mei speaks in Undercommon, the creature rustles with a strange, wet squelching sound, and flashes through a string of languages: Abyssal, Aklo, Giant, Orcish. "Tongues, tongues, tongues," it drones, its arms not-quivering ever so slightly, rattling the chains in a tempoless rhythm. After Augier's whisper, it does the same, although once it lapses into Orcish it stays there, murmuring senselessly in voices that sound almost like the orc's own. "Starving cat, starving cat, starving cat..."
They had used 4 times as many chains as they would use on a regular prisoner to keep you and all your legs down.
A girl of no more than tweenty slumps against the wall, hollow ragged eye sockets gazing at the floor as she hums a sad tune to herself. The snakes that make up her hair, however, are a slowly moving mass as they weave and slither amongst each other. A canny eye would pick up that everyone else in the prison is being watched by two or three of the snakes at any given time. Several snakes also appear to stare intently every now and then at different items around the cell - bricks in the floors and walls,the bars of the cell, and links in the chains that bind her. Her hummed tune grows slightly louder and more forceful as these snakes concentrate.
When she finally bores of her task, she speaks up in a dry singsong.
"I speak the tongue of the humans and this is all the good it's done me. I'm accepting offers to switch to a better one."
When they chained you up a weight seemed to lay upon you, though not one of mass. You find none of your spells work either.
Igoroskandrallanotly replies, ”I do not speak that one, but I share one of Ngogh’gnish’s.”
To the next to speak, Igoroskandrallanotly thinks, Ah? A Medusa. Pity they blinded her. She’d be quite useful in escaping.
When the doppelganger speaks in Aklo, and states the name of the aberrant being, it shudders grotesquely once more. Again the voices begin to speak in repetition, and though they force that same bizarre group of syllables from a throat not meant for such speech, it sounds somehow different. Though it is a name, such as it is, it's clear that it is being intoned in the Aklo tongue, the language of beings from far beyond this place.
"Ngogh'gnish, Ngogh'gnish, Ngogh'gnish..."
In the corner trying to stay out of sight from most, sits a half-dead man. You all assume he was dead, but he starts to move slowly. His skill pulled tight against his bones, it seems almost paper thin and transparent. His eyes are almost purely red, a close look would show their intensely bloodshot almost bulging out of his head. His hair hangs down grey and white matted in clumps about his face. He is dressed in tattered and ragged clothes.
The undead thing slowly rocks back and forth, shaking uncontrollably as if freezing. Every time he moves you almost expect him to fall apart.
"We're monster!" With a startle he shouts out, in a gravelly deep voice. He then swallows deeply, attempting to parch his dry throat and mouth. "We all deserve to be here, we aren't a part of their world. I've killed, I've spat on Mitra and pledged myself to Zura. I wasn't born a monster but I was never apart of their world..." He shouts out in pain then, reaching for his shoulder, the badges seeping a think almost puss-like substance. "I took what they forbid, I did what I wanted and I won't die here!" He shouts out more to himself now than anyone else.
Muscini mutters some curses in Infernal and the continues in the common tongue, "That leads me to my next question. How many people in here are able to keep a coherent thought for more than a few seconds?"
She looks around, paying special attention to the weird dog.
Over in the far corner, a green-scaled man with a crocodile head turned towards the rest of the intriguing specimens in the cell block. "Oh, I doubt any of us 'deserve' to be here." he uttered, with an almost impeccable aristocratic accent and tone in his otherwise deep-seated voice. "The Mitrans simply adore rounding up those who fail to pay sufficient homage to their false god. Its quite amusing really--like sheep killing a field mouse because their shepard deemed it a wolf."
He laughs, it turns in to a deep raspy coughing fit. "We're not here for our conversation skills." He points at the small creature, then turns to look at the well-accented creature speaking. "At least I know my place, I don't delude myself. It's the reason I'll be getting out of here. As I said I don't plan to die for anyone entertainment." He pushes himself up in a sitting position. "I may look worse for wear now, but this is my lowest point. There is only one place I choose for myself and that is up from here. Zura will grant me her strength. Then I will feed, for my hunger is great." He sniffs about looking to each of the creatures in the room.
Turning to look to his side he rubs his head against some unseen person then he whispers lovingly to something unseen or not even there. "I will feed my love, I will feed for us both. We will have your revenge. For The blood is the life."
The collar they put around your neck burns without letting up, it's silvery metal reacting with your skin.
When you were chained up you felt a tug on your soul.
As soon as you were chained up here something forced the beast in you out. You are unable to return to your normal humanoid form.
Feed yes. Perhaps if we live I can cook us a celebration feast using their bones as kindling. If, if..