In the dungeon

[Darek]

The dungeon is damp, stinking of refuse and dirt and dark. Not many sounds can be heard here… only the occasional footsteps of the wardens who bring food and water to their prisoners. He doesn't seem to be alone, he can hear those footsteps also a bit further down the hallway, the characteristic noise of a heavy wooden door opening and closing again, the scraping of metal or wood upon stone. Someone else must be down here, but still that is no consolidation for the miserable state Darek found himself in right now.

Frustrated he kicked the half-empty plate with pieces of bread and cheese on it into a corner, and then ran towards the door of his cell, banging his hand against the hard wood, screaming:

"LET ME OUT! YOU DAMN BASTARDS LET ME GOOOOOO! I DID NOTHING WRONG, THAT DAMN VIKING WILL DIE WHEN I GET OUT OF HERE... LET ME OOOUT!!!"

But even if he was heard, his situation wouldn't change any time soon.

[Darek]

The dampness of his cell, the relative quiet and stink got to Darek as he lay on the cot, starring at the ceiling. his voice had become sore from yelling… nobody heeded his calls, not even the person who, Darek was quite certain now, was imprisoned in one of the adjacent cells.

Who was he? How long had he been here? Maybe it was time to find out, Darek got up from his cot and went to the wooden door of his cell which had a small opening barred by metal rods.

"HEEEY! You there in the other cell…. Can you hear me? What is yer name? I'm Darek… tell me yours! … I know you're there, I can hear them bring you food and water and take away your piss… HEYYYYYY, answer me! What are you in here for? Also for having had fun with a whore, or was that bloody Viking the cause? I tell ya, his life isn't worth shit once I'll get out of here… Wanna join me?"

Darek waited, pressing his ear to the door to catch any possible reply.

[Halethala]

She’d flattened against the wall of the damp stone stairway at the sudden shouting from below . . Edging down closer, she listened. Ranting, a lunatic, she figured. Then his words struck her like thunder! Groaning, her body sagged . . “Nae, by the stars, TELL me it be Tyrun he be raving about . . . Sinold nae be the only Viking in these parts . . perhaps . . perhaps . .

Eyes clenched shut, she listened for a while more, then crept down the last landing to approach the imprisoned man. But the guard quickly set his spear across her path, not letting her anywhere near him . . She shouted to him across the guard. At first he fell silent, then all too willingly spoke his mind. Nae, it was Sinold he spoke of with such villainous hate . . . no mistaking his highly colorful description.

So, the beaten guest was a whore ~ this man held in the dungeons had carried out the beating ~ Sinold seemed to have nearly killed him for doing so ~ did the whole castle know about it, yet none had seen fit to tell her?

Gripping her rising anger with an iron will, reigning in her galloping imagination, fervently hoping she’d not have to count yet another thing dear to her heart as lost as well . . . . No sense in creeping about any longer, snooping to find out what was going on. Only one person knew for certain the answers to her “why’s” . . she would ask him directly . .

[Darek]

He had ranted towards whoever was outside… a woman for sure, her voice was too highly pitched to be that of a man's or even a boy's. He had told her all about why he was here and what he would do to the man who had brought him here. that miserable piece of manure who thought himself so high and mighty that he could take the law into his own hands.

But he wasn't quite finished yet. "Hey, missy… you out there? You're a friend of Bethy's? You look nice I bet! More nice than that bitch looks right now." He laughed loudly. "When I come out here, maybe I'll pay ye a visit. You came here to visit someone? Maybe that raving Viking who mounts everything with nice shapely legs… Aye, I bet he's had enough of Bethy, all bruised, and now wants you, eh? Hope he pays you well, I'd pay ye more lassy if ye come back? Come back will ya? Come baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!"

[Admin]

*stands at the door listening to words dift through the dark halls of the dungeon. With out firthr warning I push open the door and step into this coridor of cells, almost knocking the one guard off his feet. Striding towards the man's cell door, hands behind me back, I stop and stand about five feet away and nod to the guard to open the door so Imay see this... poor excuse for a human being.

" So... ye think thee will be getting out soon do thee...." My words cold and edged with hatred and loothing of a woman beater.

[Nicholas]

Nicholas has witnessed the harsh and obscene words spoken by one of the prisoners towards the Lady who had been down here, visiting. God only knew why Lady Halethala felt it necessary to come here, hadn’t the king ordered that no woman be allowed down here? Or was it just his daughter who was barred? Hmm, no matter, he would make sure the lady found her way out quickly.

And it was his chance to talk to her ever since they had returned from the horrible trip that had destroyed her former home. She must be feeling so… guilty. Yes, Nicholas would feel like that, and he had no doubt the Lady might feel the same.

Before he could escort her back out of the dungeon he saw the king himself come storming down the stairs leading to the dark and foreboding prison underneath Windstorm, almost knocking Nicholas over. He didn’t even want to be nearby when the king ripped into the loot who had been blaring in his cell the whole morning. Instead, he grabbed Halethala’s arm – he knew it was a liberty he was taking – and pushed her outside, into the fresh air of the courtyard. There he released her arm and took a step back, bowing apologetically.

“Excuse me handling of ya, milady, but ye don’t wanna be around when the king is like that!” His eyes met hers, she looked really quite beautiful. A quiet beauty he had not often seen on the ladies he had met before. This one no doubt was special. “I don’t know what ye wanted down there but… out here, you are better off….Uhm, have you settle back into yer rooms again, milady? The trip sure was trying to you… for us… well, ‘tis good to be home again, aye?”

Nicholas wasn’t a good talker, never really knew what to say to a lass, and even less to a lady like Halethala. So he masked his nervousness and inherent shyness with a smile. She wouldn’t bite his head off, would she?

[Darek]

Darek was a bit surprised when he saw the door to his cell open all of a sudden and in came a man in nobles robes, with a less than compassionate face on him.

“It’s about bloody time you got here… I’m here on false accusations and it’s not me who should be in here… WHO are you? A magistrate? Well, then see to it that I’ll get out of here, I did nothing wrong, ya know? What is wrong taming a lil shrew? Nothing, so, get me out of here, my captain will pay any expense… oh and send that bloody Viking my way, alright? So I can gut and drown that rat, aye?”

Darek began to laugh, louder and louder, then wiping his tears, looking at the man standing in his cell. He wasn’t laughing.

[Admin]

Standing there, hands behind me back still, indeed nae laughing as the man babbles his fool head off.


"Just what I thought , thee are nae from these lands are thee. What ship do thee work on and the name of thee captain, so I may tell him to sail without thee.
I am nae a magistrate, nae at all. but much much worse when it comes to thee fate..... quickly and without waring me right hand flashes out from behind me back and grabs the man by the neck, pushing him backwards and into the hard stone wall with a sicking wet smack . Me anger flaring to enormous levels as I slowly pick the man up off the floor with me hand around his neck.

" I am ye worst nitemare, one whom belives much like the viking the speak of when it comes to woman. Ye dare harm a woman, even a whore in me lands, then expect to pay the piper and suffer the wraith of punishment. By the way, * I lean in to hiss the last words into this mans face, giving his cartid artieries a bit of a squeeze to cause a bit of a blackout ... me name is Agustin Stormblade, and I be the king of these lands....and prepare for a long long long visit to this verra room

Just as suddenly, I drop the man to the floor, gasping for air and shaking his head to clear the cobwebs. Turning as I step back through the doors and slam the cell door behind me. Me orders to the guards are simple

" If he gets out... thee will take his place in there, and if he starts lipping off again, bust his jaw. "

turning once more, I head up towards the doors leading out of the dungeons

[Smithy]

*He had heard the cowards words......so often they did speak with such loudness when in truth they were afraid. This he knew of old, so often when confronted with a bully or a bragger...their words would come forth surrounded by hot air. This one was no different.

The guards had spoken of his crimes, and Smithy knew his fate was set. No amount of loud words and obscenities would change that, so he did not acknowledge the one in the next cell.....instead he fought on with his own breathing and settled back against the wall.

A woman beater.....a loud mouth.... foul indeed.....unworthy of a reply. Smithy may have been a traitor but he still held on to the few values instilled in him. He would die soon, of that he was certain as he laboured to gather enough of the stench to fill his lungs. It hurt deeply to inhale and he felt his body finally giving in.

He was aware of the King's visit.....he knew he was nothing more than a bundle of cloth upon the floor, that soon would be either thrown into a shallow grave or burned upon a wooden pire. Neither mattered anymore, as he had made his peace with his God. His only regret was that he never got to make his peace with Loxley.

His eyes rolled slightly within their sockets and what little breath inside his lungs gently exhaled as fresh blood slid slowly from the corner of his mouth. He found his sweetheart in his mind and held his Rangers sword high in his hand... valour and honour were once all he stood for and as he left this world he prayed his soul would find peace somewhere.

All that was left in the eerie silence..... the crumpled body covered with filthy clothing sat still and quiet, propped up against the stone walling... not even the rasping sounds of his laboured breathing could be heard. He did not answer the coward in the next cell......nor would he ever now.*

[Halethala]

She'd obviously picked a really busy time to sneak downwards into the bowels of the castle! Her cheeks stung a flush of pink at the insolent, obscene words now flowing from the filthy man's mouth, the tiniest fear creeping into her heart at his insinuations, the fear feeding a simmering rage that there be any alive that could be so incredibly lacking in moral fiber ~ she could understand what had driven Sinold to want to kill this beast . . . he deserved to have every inch of his worthless flesh flayed from him, slowly, painfully . . .

She stopped herself. "Not a very charitable attitude, Halethala . . " But she was glad the meteing of punishment was not up to her . .

Lost in her thoughts as she turned to leave, leaping in utter surprise as the King stomped by, not ackowledging any in his determined pathway . . overhearinh his words to the imprisioned scum brought a small flow of relief. "So then, justice will be served." she thought, trying to keep from her mind the woman who was at the vortex to all this, and what she meant to Sinold . .

She'd closed her eyes briefly, composing herself to seek Sinold's explanation, when she was siezed in an iron grip roughly. Reacting on instinct, she hissed and struggled against the man, even trying to seek her dagger, but he moved her along so rapidly she had all she could do to keep her footing! When released, she spun around, furious, hissing at him!

"Aha, so, my 'Saviour' once again, eh Nicholas? Was that really necessary? Ye think me so weak, or your guards so useless that I be in any danger? 'Tis only a . . . *She stopped, forcing herself to behave, seeing something in his eyes that unsettled her. He had been so very attentive and kind upon the return trip, she so lost in herself she'd hardly noticed. But she was grateful to him.

"Forgive me, Nicholas. I be on edge, what with questions needing answers and none giving them to me. I had to seek them out myself." She stopped, tried again, trying to smile. "Have I even thanked ye, Nicholas . . or the other Rangers either, for that matter. I'm afraid I've been hiding from the trip, striving so hard to forget much of it . . I slept for nearly two days straight upon arriving home. Were you allowed time to recuperate as well, Nicholas? Perhaps if ye have some leave coming soon, we could ride together, you could answer some questions for me, help me fill some of the gaps in my memory from the journey . . would ye be willing to suffer my company once again?" She could not help but smile into his kind face.

[Lady Alexandreania (Andrea)]

After her conversation with Captain Remard, Andrea sat at her desk, parchment before her and quill in hand. Letting her mind clear of the anger the man had cause in her at his utmost stubborn audacity and conviction that his man who now languishes in the dungeons of Windstorm to be entirely innocent of any wrong doing and has been completely ill used by Milord Sinold for no reason but his own amusement. Dropping the quill and pushing the parchment aside, she rises and paces while calming herself with cleansing breaths before sitting again.~

~ taking up the quill dipping it in the ink and drawing the parchment to her once more. In her best script pens a missive to the King.~

Ye Majesty,

Upon the morning, there came a visitor to Vindstorm, one Captain Remard of the ship Forell now at anchor in the Harbor, who hae came seeking his man Darek, now residing as a guest in the dungeons, vishing his immediate return to him. Upon being told that his man vaits upon ye judgement, he requested ye be informed of his visit and shall return again vhen ye be present.

Sire, as alvays I be,

Vith sincere respect,
Lady Andrea

~Blowing on the deep indigo ink for a moment then sanding it, tapping off the excess, she then rolls and plainly seals the scroll, tying it with a bit of thin red ribbon. She then leaves her room and decends the stair case making for the King's Library and placing the scroll upon his desk and departs.~

[Remard]

He had come twice now, to seek those who were holding one of his men in their dungeon. Remard always had known that one of these days Darek would get too with his untameable temper. In many a port there were women like that one he was now accused of having beaten to a pulp. Mostly shady women, whores, he had either beaten, knifed or cheated out of their fairly earned money. So far Remard had been able to get Darek out of trouble's way, with coin, or a well-placed threat, but this situation seemed to be more severe.

This time Darek himself had received the treatment he normally only dished out to others, and the whore he had mistreated seemed to have a few powerful Samaritarians. But Remard had not yet met a man who couldn't be bought with coin, or a promise of trade. Darek was his best navigator and Remard wanted…. needed him back.

He had time, he could wait, and he would get what he wanted.

[Nicholas]

Nicholas was a bit taken aback by the lady's vehement outburst, maybe he had taken too much of a liberty with her? But what she told him then was more what he had hoped for.

"A ride, with me? Aye, I mean… I will need to ask the captain but … aye, I'd like to escord you on a ride, Milady! *His eyes sparkled, he blushed a little and then looked at the lady again. "I heard you will soon make a trip to the village, for clothes? No doubt you will ride with guards…I hope you will have a pleasant day then."

He was really fumbling for words now. "But yes, if ye ask the Captain I am sure I may be allowed to accompany and answer any questions you may have for you. There's a really nice glade to the west of the village…But now…"Nervously Nicholas looked back to the door to the dungeon, imagining what wrath the king may unleash upon that swinish loot in his cell, "maybe ye would be more comfortable in yer chambers now? Rest assured, the king will handle that man properly. Now, shall we go?"

His hand poited towards the entrance to the caste proper, he smiled at the lovely lady facing him, his thoughts already on that day when they would take that ride together.

[Darek]

"Captain Remard… the Forell, in the harbour…" This was all Darek was able to utter before the man calling himself the king of these lands slammed him against the wall, pressing down on his throat, robbing him the air to breath and making his vision blurry and breathing painful. Agustin Stormblade… what cursed shored had Remard chosen to drop anker at, where even the king seemed to be in defence of worthless whores? But he knew Remard would come for him, he needed him to navigate through the mists the sea at times threw at them.

Getting back on his knees, coughing and spitting some blood from whn he had bitten on his own tongue, Darek looked blearily towards the door, barely making out the orders this so-called king was giving the guards. "You pompous ass… I will get out of here and that Viking scum will get what he deserves. " He said that much more quietly than before and then dropped back onto the floor, sitting with his back against the cold wall, glaring at the closed door to his cell.

[Dorian Hawkmoon]

Slowly a dark form detached itself from the shadows...a figure clad in black leather armour, well fitted to His tall muscular frame...the ivory hilt shaped in the likeness of a dragon protruding from over His right shoulder...a heavier broadsword belted low on His right hip...twin black handled daggers adorning His sides...He looks towards the scum that adorns the cell floor. He had watched His King confront the knave just a few short moments ago...thinking he hadn't recieved nearly a tenth of what he deserved. Heavy boots whisper across the stone flooring, stopping a few paces short of the cell door...cold, cold pale blue orbs glitter brightly from the hard face, affixing themselves on the bruised miscreant as he looks up to see Him standing there...a fresh string of curses and threats,issuing from his lips as He moves towards the cell door. He only smiles in return....but no mirth or humour in that cold smile...no haughtiness or disdain as the epithets die upon the prisoner's lips...just that.....smile....Slowly He turns and begins to walk away...then pauses and looks back over His shoulder...and laughs.....