[Game Thread] The Cell

[Gunslinger 19]

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Alone I be, and soon we'll see if I am meant to die...
Alone in here, my bones are weary as I sit and cry.
They all are gone.
They all are gone.
They never said goodbye...
Alone for now, I don't know how, I don't even know why...

The singing echoes faintly down the hall, seemingly without end. The voice has been there for the past few days now, singing for a few hours at a time. The cell is dimly lit by the torches beyond the bars, and the beds are thankfully dry, though they do not smell pleasant.

For now, there is naught to do but wait...

[standalonepsycho]

If he were to explain the feeling of the air, Veidren would have wanted to use the common word for silence. However, this would have been inaccurate. The steady and echoing drip drop of water accompanied by the forlorn echoes of song to ease the passing of time removed all pretenses of silence.
Annoying as it may have been, it still felt silent.
Maybe it was simply that it was empty and soulless, despite the noise; a great pit of nothingness that was only kept at bay by the sound of one's own or other company's voice. Veidren had hardly blamed the inmate for his song but his patience grew thin. The bed beneath his back felt lovely and, though Veidren's eyes were not closed, he was attempting to rest.

The bed rustled a bit as Veidren turned on his side, glaring at the empty air the sound echoed through.

"Enoooouuugh."

Veidren groaned with a thick accent.
The singing did not stop.

"Silence, Wael!"

He hissed, leaning up on his elbow now and nearly smacking his head on the bunk. The singing continued. A growl emitted from Veidren's throat and the drow leaped from his bed, bare feet slapping on the stone as he reached the bars and grabbed them firmly, exasperated by the continued noise. His fury faded, however, and the drow just turned about, back to the cold bars. The singing continued.

[cruelcynic]

Shump laughed as the drow raged against the singing. "If this crap hole has not shut em up your yellin won't" Shump looked back at the stone wall. "I wonder if we ever get some time out of this cell? Cause soon as I get out they will have ta drag me back in."

[kextor]

"Depressing, ain't he?" Gorsh sighed. Be careful what you wish for, Dad said. I wished for a story, and I got a rocky cell and some barmy twit who deluded himself into thinking he's a bard. "Veidren, ain't you ever heard prison's full of loons? Like us? And you? So sit back, relax, and enjoy going slowly crazy, or whatever you dark elves do." He flopped back against the wall of his cell.

[Apocalyps3]

Relieved to finally have a chance to move about freely, Samus paced around the cell a few times, stretching out his legs. His body had become unbelievably sore from sitting in that ship for four months, and he decided to get his blood flowing. Never taking his eyes off his cell mates, he dropped to the ground to do a few push ups. I may have spent months with these criminals, but I do not trust one. Rolling over and doing a couple crunches, Samus hopped to his feet as soon as he finished. I wouldn't complain. That may be the only entertainment you have for the rest of your Elven days. I wouldn't be surprised if you joined him soon. Samus continued to pace, doing a few squats and looking for a place to potentially do a few pull ups.

[standalonepsycho]

Veidren looked at Shump who seemed just as amused as ever with the state of the world and then at the talkative fireborn as he also spoke up. Veidren was not surprised at their chiming but was surprised, however, when the human; the muscular machine of what Veidren presumed was death, spoke up.

"Don't complain! You'll go crazy! It's no use!"

Veidren chimed with a thick accent, mocking the gist of what each of them said. The drow found true amuse in this however and a smirk cracked his dark lips. Taking to the floor cross-legged, Veidren watched for a moment as Samus went through an exercise routine. In the half-light it was almost entertaining. Instead of continuing to be a pariah, however, Veidren decided that these folks might be worth talking to in a more serious nature.

"It is strange that you remember my name, Fireborn."

The drow said.

"Now I almost feel badly for forgetting yours. I truly assumed I would remain a shadow in the backdrop and that none would regard me of their own choice. Apparently I was wrong."

[Gunslinger 19]

[Gunslinger 19]

Suddenly, and without explanation, a group of guardsmen come and take Gorsh out of your cell. Within seconds, he is gone as though he had never been there at all.

[standalonepsycho]

Veidren watched this set of events with a listless gaze that was both confused and curious.

"I know I am cursed but this is growing strange."

Suddenly Veidren was reminded that he had not yet informed his cellmates and as if on command a little twister of force lifted dust and debris and scattered it violently everywhere. The drow buttoned his eyes shut half a second before it happened and his face was pelted with tiny debris.

"Well now is a good time, I suppose, to let you know that malevolent spirits haunt my every step."

The drow's tone bordered on nonchalant.

[cruelcynic]

Shump sits up and looks around. "I wonder what they wanted with him?" Shump looks over to Veidren to talk when the dust devil tears through the cell. When it passes Shump lowers his arms from his face. "What exactly was that?!" Shumps asks with a hint of confusion and excitement in his voice.

[standalonepsycho]

"What did it look like?"

Veidren mused with feigned confusion. Then the drow decided to take it a step further and see if he could have a bit of fun with it. The dust devil faded as quickly as it came about and Veidren looked with confusion at Shump.

"I saw nothing at all. Why the excitement?"

[cruelcynic]

Shump gives Veidren an odd look trying to Sense Motive Check

Dice Roll:

d20+1

(11)+1

Total = 12

figure out what he is up to. But he does not seem to be up to anything. Shump looks around the cell very confused. "Nothin, Ima just loosin ma mind is all. You really saw nothin?"

[Gunslinger 19]

The cell opens again, and a small, well-built, dirtied Grippli is tossed into the small room with you. He is wearing similar armor to what you are.

OOC In case I didn't make it clear, you were all given specific armor at the end of the prologue. This armor uses the same stats as leather armor with the exception that being tailored to you, it has no arcane spell failure chance. (Not that any of you cast arcane spells.)

[Apocalyps3]

OOC Hopefully we aren't being FORCED to wear the armor. Because I don't wanna

First they lock us in a boat with a fish, now we have to spend the rest of our lives with a toad. Samus jumped into a bed, enjoying his chance to lay down.

[Frogman]

Chance hops off the floor and brings himself to his full, albeit short, height swiftly pivoting to face the door and the now retreating guards. Yes, you'd best leave, you ruffians! Go and harass some other poor souls! You think you've got us right where you want us! Soon you shall see that we have you right where we want you! You shall learn to fear the name of Chance "Sticky Fingers" Fen!

He pauses and takes a breath, Yes, good, perhaps that could do with an edit but I'll work it out later.

The four foot tall frog man pivots to face the dankness of the cell, his red eyes flash to the faces of each of his cellmates and his black and blue spotted face cracks into a smile. Ah yes...it's that time is it?

He hops onto the far wall and climbs up the sheer, damp, and in all likelihood moldy surface up onto the ceiling and stops in the center of the cell. He smiles again. Right the way I see this happening is one of three options. He opens his webbed hands to reveal one blue digit.Option 1) the prisoners band together, putting their differences aside and combing their various aptitudes to escape the island and live as free men. There could be a tunnel involved or perhaps some messenger birds. He thumps himself on the head like a man forgetting a friend's nameI wish I had known I was coming or I would have had the prison layout tattooed onto my chest!

He holds up a second finger.Option 2) The prisoner, who was thrown in prison by a jealous rival suitor, makes the acquaintance of another inmate in the neighboring cell. The acquaintance is old and wise and soon becomes a father figure to the imprisoned man eventually telling him where to find his buried loot. The prisoner escapes, finds the loot and assumes a mysterious identity in order to exact revenge!

He holds up his third and final finger, completely revealing his blue palmOption 3) Torture! Hmmm...scratch option three.

He crosses his arms, froggy feet firmly planted on the ceiling.Hmm...I guess I just don't know...what say you fellows? What would you prefer?