[M] Realms of Hol: Chains of Despair (IC)

[Tolvo]

Realms of Hol: Chains of Despair IC
OOC

Even before their journey their items had been confiscated and they’d been shackled. They’d only been left the clothes on their backs, for now. Those who would become prisoners of Frostwarren were never expected to be seen again. Some arrived by land others by sea. Their freedom had been taken from them, their stories expected to end here.

**

Lilyanna and Edwyn were shackled together. The two cultists had been taken from their land of eternal winter. Yet this place they found themselves in now was still fitting to behold. They were inside of a thick wooden cart reinforced with iron. Along with them were many others shackled just the same, with collars fitted around their necks which blocked out the use of magic. One tugged at theirs while the rest had defeated looks to them. Hands and legs were bound together with irons. Outside of a small window that barely let in any light they could see a forest shadowed by steep canopies with thick trunked trees.

A bump jostled those who had been sleeping awake. Sorrow filled faces stirred and looked around before accepting their fates. One was a bit curious, a man with a mop of brown hair and a thick beard that just barely touched his chest inquired to everyone. “Why are you all here?” An awkward bit of silence followed but it was broken by an older woman who looked aristocratic sighing. “Tax evasion.” Some of the others laughed at this. She looked away with a bit of frustration.

Again the man asked question. “Any of you killers? Or are we all rather peaceful people? I’ll go next. I told a knight to go fuck herself.” Near the back a Dark Elf groaned. “They didn’t tell me why I’m here, I haven’t a clue.” The first man said his name. “Jed.” This prompted the Dark Elf to reply with his own. “Darathor.” Then the woman who evaded taxes for only so long spoke hers. “Janice.” Everyone got to speaking their names until they looked to the two cultists. “What’re yours? What are you here for?”

**

Up and down, up and down. The waters were choppy. A boat carried Callum, Ujarak, Dorian, Bigwit, Ruhi, and many more. Bleak Death was the name of the vessel, to those aboard it came across as a bit too on the nose. During the long travel they’d been getting colder and colder and some couldn’t handle it. Over the side of the ship the Sinkeepers dumped a rigid body turned blue and black from the cold which ended in a pity filled splay. They couldn’t take it, while the others toughed it out to the best of their abilities. Those crewing the ship wore lots of furs to keep themselves warm. Even with their rather toasty garments fingers froze and people got sick.

Commanding the ship was a woman known as Lady Icebreaker. They’d gotten glimpses of her in passing the few times she visited the below decks where the prisoners were. Her golden hair was well kept and at first she wore makeup but the further they got from society the less and less she wore until she’d finally forgone it. Deep emerald eyes had looked upon some of those shackled, there was no remorse or question in them.

Each prisoner had been fitted with a magic blocking collar. They were tight, uncomfortable, and didn’t appear to have any locking mechanism. How they’d been fitted with them none knew. One moment simply they were there around their throats. Locked in the back of the hold shackled to the iron reinforcements of the ship were a few beings. Those who were larger creatures were kept here, such a Ujarak. They had to shackle each and every one of his legs together which had been quite a production. The keepers didn’t seem too pleased with it.

Against another wall was a man who had been whipped profusely for striking a Sinkeeper with his head. He’d done no damage to their armor and injured himself in the process. His name had been spoken, Alexandre. He was stripped and whipped across the back and chest and was now laid out as an example. Whether the man was living or dead was hard to tell. The lady herself had taken part in some of the whipping, the keepers had made a show of it to teach the other prisoners a lesson. His skin now was turning blue from the cold. But he did not shiver or shake.

The lady appeared again. Her light steps could be heard coming down the stairs. Beside her were the heavy footfalls of the armored Sinkeepers who carried poles in their hands while having swords on their hips. When they arrived they struck the man in the side then looked to one another. A gravely voice muffled by a helm seemed to confirm the suspicions of many. “Dead.” Lady Icebreaker approached the bare man and her right hand began to glow. As soon as it coalesced in enough energy she punched the man in the chest and he sprung to life gasping for air. Immediately he began begging. “Please. Please!” She turned to the rest and asked them all a question. “Do you all know why you’re here?”

[Minkasha]

Lilyanna’s skin was riddled with pin prick sized bumps. Rendered to nothing but robes and somberness, she was nothing but heartache at this time. Silent, beside her noble champion, this was a time of mourning. The butchery subjugated the intended transition of natural selection back into the hands of men’s vying clutch. They leashed death, in combat with it as if it were the enemy. Still now her internal reflection splashed the blood across the snow, the reddened steel flicked the wet. It had been on her feet, across her chest, rolling through her locks. Those who were the fearful and the aggressive violated her body with the blood of her loved ones. They were all murdered.

In her restrained journey Lilyanna hadn't had the drive or the strengthened compassion to open herself back to enduring the pains of the living. Their scared minds and ignorant hearts must be sheltered in her palms, her fingers. Her hands must do this work. The first step, shed the loss of her followers.

“Their innocence was taken by force…” The Priestess belonging to The Winter Church of The White Fall mumbled her first decry of pain. The tattered woman clutched herself as the unfortunate around her spoke. Mother would bury them all. The womb waited, love was near. Oncoming. The White Fall was patient, eternized. “I hope for their souls…” Lilyanna said louder, becoming audible to the other prisoners. Wetness of an unwelcome warmth spilled out from her eyes. The woman was shaking, her shackles rattling a heartbroken song, bound to her in every way. “Save me” Lilyanna cried, shielding her eyes with her hands. The touch was bitterly, soothing, lacking heat. “They've been damned. Why? Damned…”

The silence was unnatural. Not the silence of the world, nor the shallow fools around them. Broken, weary voices chattered without meaning. They were afraid. Birds still chirped in the trees, and the cart trundled along the road with sickening constancy. These were not the sounds that warmed his ears. Not the tones that made him feel alive. Distractions. With nothing real for them to detract from.

Reduced to a simple tunic and pants, the cold should have turned his skin to fire. And yet he scarcely felt it. His lady’s presence still kept death at bay, as it had from the moment they’d met.

I could have killed them all.

He could have defended the congregation. That was his purpose. He believed himself capable, but Lilyanna spoke out. A bitter revelation, for the last words she’d spoken in power to be his dismissal of arms.

Staring unflinchingly directly ahead, Edwyn’s head was still held high, his body lean and poised for action despite their constrictive circumstances. His chill eyes did not blink, and he dared them to water. Can I still cry? Can I still…

His thoughts were interrupted by a mumbling beside him, and his eyes flicked immediately to Lilyanna. Sharp and strangely tender they glanced over every inch of her body, recognising her defeat. Understanding how far she had fallen. She cried. Something that he, no matter how hard he willed it, could not make happen. How much of me is still human? My mind has flirted with the snow, and my body heeds not its touch.

Lilyanna’s eyes began to cascade warm, beautiful tears. She was quivering. Shaking. And yet even in her weakness there was power to her, and a beauty so irresistible it made him long to touch her.

But he did not. Instead he bowed his head slightly toward her. “Men and women are ignorant.” He murmured. “Their fear is a weakness I would cull from them.” He wanted to continue, ask her why she had not let him defend her… but he found himself unable to utter the words.

Lilyanna, for the first time, seemed lost. And her defeat brought a chill of absence to Edwyn’s own heart.

If I am to help her, I must be passive no longer.

He said nothing to the other prisoners who looked their way, simply regarded each of them in turn with his unsettling frostbite eyes.

“Weakness...no. The fear is their invitation for togetherness.” Lilyanna replied to Edwyn, glancing her eyes up his hands to his eyes. She stared into his depths, studying in her stilled tearful position. “Edwyn, we will help them all. Everyone here. Stay at my side my Winter Knight” she whispered, sliding her hand close to his body, against the cold metal, denying physical contact.

A shiver ran up Edwyn’s spine at Lilyanna’s words. That was what he wanted to hear. What he needed to hear. Strength. Decisiveness. A new goal. Her purpose gave him pause and buried the hint of autonomy he had been about to display. His head tilted slightly toward her, and he regarded her coolly. “I would never leave, my lady.” He flexed his fingers and let out a soft exhale of numbing breath. “These others, no doubt, think you are mad. I would correct their foolishness myself, but… I know your passion is a greater weapon than my body.” Lilyanna’s golden brown eyes glinted.

“Weapons do not soothe our relationship between the fatal cold and union with Mother. Listen to your heart, what I have planted inside is not a blade” her pink lips kept their soft fragility, clouds of heat rose out.

Edwyn closed his eyes and listened. Delving inside himself, to his heart and his soul. He placed a hand to his chest. Thrum. Thrum. Thrum. Steady, slow, a calm heartbeat despite the tragedy. The Winter Knight opened his eyes and nodded. “Peace in death. Calm in defeat. Steel only for those who would stop you from spreading your message through needless violence.”

The assassin gripped the iron shackles tightly and felt the cold dance across his hands, not unpleasant - simply neutral. A miracle.

His voice became slightly tender. “You need to rest, regather your strength in preparation for what is to come. Your body will be weak from emotion.” He knew that despite her power and charisma, she still might collapse from exhaustion, and tears were weakening. He longed to see her in control again, preaching fearlessly and gaining support and admiration. For others to see what he saw.

Tears splattered on her metal bindings. Lilyanna kept her vision on her knight. The contact of their eyes was emboldened by mutuality.

“I have faith in you Edwyn. The White Fall suits you. Yes...I will sleep. I am...tired.” The priestess changed, letting looser the hold of her arms across her body. “Jed, Janice, Darathor. I see each of you. Peace will come” the weary woman smiled briefly. Then, she downcast herself, hair concealing her wet face, and she collapsed her feminine body close to itself to try and return to sleep.

[Sindri]

Was this what exceptional cold felt like? It never seemed this cold in Zolaria. It wasn't particularly bothersome but the simplest movements felt like trudging through a swamp filled with dough and mortar. He'd felt the warmth once; the sense of vitality bordering on discomfort that pervasive summer heat could bring. This sensation was far from that.

The temperature continued dropping and it seemed the very ice would consume the ship before it ever reached port. This didn't seem to bother Ujarak who's cold blood wasn't phased by the decline. Instead, like most arachnids, he was transitioning towards a state of dormancy. He'd subjected himself to this a couple times before to explore how shutting off the Earthly senses could connect him to the otherworldly but this was exponentially more intense than anything he'd experienced before. He had almost unconsciously made the effort to weave a cocoon about him to seal in some warmth but the shackles proved impossible to work around leaving him to endure.

The result of this semi-dormancy were thoughts. Endless thoughts and potentialities. What would become of that family should he die and fulfill the prophecy? Would he be forced to spend the rest of his time in that prison to ensure that he survived? Where exactly was he headed? This was not the first time he'd be indentured in a far away land and he'd accepted the idea. He'd also accepted that bindings could not bind his mind... however he had no cultural obligations to this place and if some miracle presented his freedom to return to the dank undersoil he'd gladly take it. For now he simply needed to abide.

Besides him the body of a mind was seemingly shocked back into life by the woman as cold as the weather she braved. His yelps drawing Ujarak's attention away from the inner webs of his own mind. He worried for being seemingly the only Xylo on the ship but hopefully with his dormancy he'd do nothing to warrant her attention or that of her whip crackers. At that thought he unconsciously rubbed his palps together as if cleaning them after a meal.

[Cfavano]

This was not his first time on a boat, nor was it is first time in irons. It was the first time he didn't resist, however. He did not want to go to this hellhole, but the need called him there. It was a collection of horrid criminals, it shined like a beacon in his mind, pulling him. They stripped him, of course. It was to be expected. The things didn't matter to him anymore, save for the rings. But it doesn't matter, he must perform his duty, he must answer the call, and so there he was, on this hellish ship. His breath fogged before him, but he felt not the cold. Other passengers shied away from him, as much as their shackles would allow. He didn't move much, or eat, really. People left him alone, for he made them feel uneasy.

"I am here because I am an embarrassment." Dorian finally says, looking up. "I do what the regular enforcers of the law can't, or won't. I go bring justice and avenge wrongdoings. I go after all evil, great and small. I avenge the innocent, and bring upon the guilty their just end. I am he who walks in the shadows to serve the light. My armor is Contempt, my shield is Disgust, and my sword is Vengeance." His eyes are dark and dull. "I smell the sin on others, on these, on you. The bell tolls and I answer." He looks down again. "By the rivers of Adoen, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Olash. We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof. For there they that carried us away captive required of us a song; and they that wasted us required of us mirth, saying, Sing us one of the songs of Olash. How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land? If I forget thee, O Kelna, let my right hand forget her cunning. If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth; if I prefer not Kelna above my chief joy. Remember, O Lord, the children of Yeia in the day of Kelna; who said, Rase it, rase it, even to the foundation thereof. O daughter of Adoen, who art to be destroyed; happy shall he be, that rewardeth thee as thou hast served us. Happy shall he be, that taketh and dasheth thy little ones against the stones." He finishes, before going silent.

[Mfable]

Ruhi was used to the cold, but not with such an intensity as it was here. The land she was born in and the lands of her mother’s people both saw snow, but they did not chill her to the very soul like it did here. She whispered to the wind and the snow and the cold when no one was watching, practically begging it to spare her suffering, but the collar made it as impossible as digging through a brick wall with naught but her bare hands. For the first time in a very long time, she felt alone, even surrounded by prisoners.

When no one was watching, when she had the little time she could, she would scan the faces of those in the room, making note of their physical strengths and weaknesses, and how they fared the journey in terms of attitude. She consciously made note of which would seemingly survive the abuses of the guard and the harsh cold, and made note to avoid those that spoke up or talked back to the guard, for those would be trouble, and she could not afford trouble.

When this Lady Icebreaker entered the cold cabin and addressed the prisoners, Ruhi dared to look only for a moment. This was a display of power and she wanted to show her capture that she would be no trouble. An acknowledgment of her power and then submission by looking down upon the ground, as if bowing with her eyes, was usually the way to go with people of power and influence.

She listened to Dorian speak and though showing no outward emotion marveled at such an action. Their captors were not interested in silly speeches and religious verses. If anything, he made himself a target for the worst of the punishment, almost literally summoning the abuse of those that waited for them deep in that cold prison. He was certainly one that she would avoid, for he would bring trouble in droves, literally seeking it. She suspected that he would not survive a month in that prison. He was a stalwart soldier, but not a survivor.

[Craze]

Atmosphere Track

---

---

Callum Rulofsen had remained silent throughout most of the journey, peering into the distance they had yet to cross. It reminded him of his journeys to Baustral and Zolaria, places engraved in his mind. Occasionally he glanced up, especially to witness how one of the prisoners - Alexandre - frequently got whipped. But he didn't grin, didn't comment, didn't even wince as it happened. Callum's face remained a grim scowl, his thoughts somewhere else entirely.

Was this what his life had built up to? All the misery, the darkness, the hard work - all that blood spilled, just to end up with his neck at the end of a rope while the trumpets of judgment sounded?
Perhaps.
Perhaps this is what it had come to.
Perhaps this is what he deserved.

He regretted nothing, and he would deny nothing. Every single drop of blood had been on his hands. His choices had been his own, and he was ready for what came next.
He had to be.

When the golden-haired woman entered and revived the deceased prisoner with little to no effort, Callum made a mental note of her power. Curious. He looked down on his hands in response, not to avert his gaze but to ponder on his own magical attributes, which seemed to be locked away from him through these collars. He clenched his fist, hoping to tap into his magic if there was any left for him to reach, but nothing happened.

A sound droned on in his ears. It had been there for a while, but Callum had paid no attention to it. But by now, it just seemed to go on forever, even transcending into a singsong-y poem. Being able to ignore it no longer, old man Callum growled and faced the source of his annoyance.
A balding man with a goatee, as broad as Callum was, droning on and on in a religious verse of sorts. Callum rolled his eyes. This fucker chose now of all times to preach? Give me a break.
But he remained silent, as always, his eyes squinting at the self-important brute.

Then it dawned on him. He knew him. He'd seen him before, but in a suit of armor, heaving around a greatmaul. His name he couldn't remember, but his voice and face spoke volumes.
But Callum's interest had a short lifespan, and his eyes moved on to one of the other prisoners.

A Xylor? He had killed a Xylor once. He remembered vividly how the creature had squealed, its head trapped under a boulder while Callum tore off its limbs, one by one. He had left the creature to rot, knowing it would eventually die and shrivel through the passage of time. His gaze caught the Xylor rubbing its palps together. He grimaced - disgusting.

Quickly averting his gaze, his eyes landed on a much smaller creature, green and looking kind of... disheveled. A Goblin, Callum knew. Or - that's what he guessed.
The Goblin hadn't spoken yet, and at this point Callum doubted if it even could, but it seemed different than any of the Goblins Callum had encountered in his lifetime. Most of them were cowards, meddling creatures that would take the first chance at taking your life as soon as the opportunity arose, but would scream and run if the odds turned against them.
He hoped this one was different.

And finally, another human. Dark-skinned, and, Callum felt somewhat guilty at thinking it, beautiful. It had been a long time since Callum showed even remote interest in women, and he wasn't saying he showed interest in this one, but her appearance alone enticed him. She, too, hadn't spoken yet - overruled by the pompous brute - but the way she looked around said everything. He knew what she was. What she felt.

He turned to face Lady Icebreaker again - a ridiculous title, by the way - and squinted.
She may have been the most interesting of all the people on this boat.

[RedKayne]

Bigwit does not appreciate this cold.

The little goblin could not remember the last time he felt such piercing coldness. His teeth clenched tightly together, his muscles tensed, doing every little vain thing to keep a little bit of warmth within his body. Bigwit can recall that the coldest night he experienced before was his first night as a lone wanderer.

It took him several hours to create a campfire. In hindsight, he should've practiced a bit more before he left his clans, but at least he gained some skills of being a survivalist. He could vividly reimagine the warmth of that fire and hear the crackling sounds of the burning wood. It was best to keep him thoughts elsewhere and distracted instead of focusing on the cold, cold night.

However, his thoughts were interrupted upon the arrival of Lady Icebreaker. Bigwit's bright orange eyes watched the woman carefully in the darkness of the ship's hold. The woman carried a dangerous presence around her, and Bigwit noted that he should never get on her bad side.

Bigwit just needs to keep quiet. If Bigwit is quiet, Bigwit will not attract unnecessary attention.

Of course, it was the loudest person that then attracted the most amount of attention. A grizzly middle-aged man from the human species. Bigwit is curious why humans always want the spotlight? The goblin noticed the typical behaviors of humans throughout his travels as a wanderer. The man continued on a rant that he is a so-called Avenger before praying nonsensically to his gods. Bigwit's orange gaze quickly fell upon the other prisoners to observe their reactions, and several of them shared the same sentiment of annoyance.

The goblin stood next to a very large man and caught him rolling his eyes in response to the ranting madman. The large man was made of pure muscle and a flame-shaped burn on his left eye. Bigwit can recognize that the man carried himself with a strong stature of a fighter.

Bigwit smirked and then gave a slight elbow to the man's leg to get his attention. "Bigwit wonders why the raving caterpillar over there must be so loud?" the goblin questioned quietly, in a slightly high-pitched voice, and briefly tilted his head towards the direction of the madman. Yes, Bigwit just referred to the Man of Justice as a Raving Catapillar. Bigwit has an uncanny ability to give interesting nicknames to those around him.

[Kris]

The waves sway the ship back and forth, even on calm sea days. She threw up on the first period of her confinement until her body grown used to the movements. Or maybe there was hardly anything left for her stomach to part with.

All of her medicines were taken from her, so she obviously had no way to deal with the sea sickness, but a woman reached to her, and made her take something. It was unfamiliar pill of sort but it made Sabin feel a little easier almost immediately. She was unsure as to why said woman would treat her instead of just letting her die, but was nevertheless grateful for her to also ordering the guards to clear away the bucket of her vomit. Sabin was wise enough to know it was not an act of kindness by any measure, for it was simply to prevent diseases and bad smell from spreading into the ship.

Sabin's skin boiled under her cloths as the light from her eyes was growing paler by the day. She could tell if the conditions were to continue like this that she may not survive long. The cold mixed with the swift temperature changes of her body going hot from being ill, was wracking her. She had barely eaten as a result.

The wood squealed under the burden of the raging waves, clashing back and forth with the water. It was making the night (if they were night) sleepless, but Sabin soon got used to the noise and would have find it easier to rest. She could not have tell the changes of day and night aside from guessing by the small hints of changes in the light movement- that is, what was able to penetrate into the lower deck.

The routine was the same each cycle of time. Someone would come around specific hour bearing tray of food. It was not horrible per so but it was not a decent meal. That would be the amount to live by until the warden would come again with more food.

The rest of the day would follow with screams and lashing and beating. She was thankful not being the person suffering the havoc. The salty air along with the humidity were a horrible mix to the already bad condition her skin was suffering, which she took great effort of looking after, and while not shying away from scars earned by decent battles, being wounded and bleeding in such manner was something she was not willing to go for.

The whole situation felt unclean. Her hair was now shapeless and messy and she had grown to hate the smell of her own sweat. What would she not give for a hot bath and clean soap right now?

The disintegrate state of the cell she was in, which suffered from mold and dust was an added insult. On the first few days she already saw few perfect spots from which she could have scratched off some ingredients for potion mixing, but now she grew to be indifferent to them. She simply wanted to leave already.

But, despite it all, Sabin's mind had one though track going. A thought pattern that might have actually helped her preserving her sanity. Survive so you can report back. There were others who waited to hear back the report she carried with her and she needed, as part of her calling and duty to the clan, to do just that.

Her thoughts were interrupted, surprisingly enough, by the sharp silence. The man who had so vividly held on to life with each impact has finally said his last.

And then there was this woman, same woman who made her conditions a little better, standing tall beside said man. Sabin had yet formed her opinion on her and was amazed to see her reviving the man. Had this woman actually cared for them?

The man's voice was re-heard louder and clear than before, pleading for the torment to end.

The woman then turned to Sabin and the rest of the prisoners around her, asking them a question. Sabin had no mirror to see, but could tell that some light has been filled in her eyes again. Maybe a glimpse of hope of learning more about this situation. Sabin was also curious about the nature of the question and the reasoning behind it.

"Let it be known that justice has taken place where I had been sentenced guilty", she said, somewhat surprised from the sound of her own voice, as Sabin kept silent for so long, "I humbly request to know of our situation", she added.

[Tolvo]

Lady Icebreaker stared at the man who had raved of his religious beliefs. She blinked twice and cocked her head in disbelief. “For a man who boasts such rhetoric you seem oblivious to a rhetorical question’s presence.” One of the guards shook their head but as the lady’s eyes looked about they stopped. When the Goblin spoke she gave him a glance but her gaze did not bare down on him. Instead she looked upon a Dark Elf with silvery eyes. The woman had asked a question while accepting her fate. “I suppose since you asked nicely, we are arriving at Frostwarren this very moment. Where you all will live the rest of your pitiful lives.”

They could feel the ship lurch for a moment before steadying. It still bobbed but much more calmly. Outside people spoke and yelled to one another but it was too far away, they couldn’t make it out. At the back one possibly could have, a large dark Ogre, if he wasn’t heavily sedated as to be kept dim and slow. Around him the prisoners were pulled as far away from him, either in fear or respect for his physical features and might.

Lady Icebreaker snapped her fingers and one of the armored guards pulled out a key from his overcoat. It was simple and small and he approached the man they had made an example of. He began to unlock his irons, the man fell the ground quivering on his knees before the lady of ice. She spoke again. “Now here are some very simple instructions. We need to take and log your clothes. You will then get some water to wash yourself with, afterwards you will be searched a final time, before being given your prison attire. If you all can follow my instructions, you’ll get a warm meal.” She rubbed her belly as if she were talking to children. “Mmm, doesn’t that sound good? A warm meal! Now then!”

The other guard tossed Alexandre’s clothes at the man, they fell over limply as he looked up in confusion. Lady Icebreaker motioned with her hands towards a corner where another set of guards now stood. One of them had a book and a pen at the ready. “You are to show your clothes so they may be catalogued and store, then neatly drop them in a pile.” She looked to Alexandre. The guard next to him jabbed him in the side with a pole which shocked him with blue electricity that jumped across his flesh and made his muscles spasm. He wheezed and coughed in pain before scooping up his clothes barely able to move. Alexandre crawled over to the corner then spoke his name. “Alexandre.” The guard asked a follow up. “Last name? If you don’t have one make one up.” They tapped their pen on the book before they began scribbling at quite a speed. “Alexandre-” He stammered before finishing. “-Alexandre Shipwood.”

Again the lady motioned with her hands. “Now then, you will go up without any trouble, and walk to the docks where water basins, buckets, and rags will be provided. You all must hate the way you smell, I know I’m not fond of standing this close to you. It’s both our pleasure and yours to allow you to clean up, so please do. Don’t worry about your modesty, it dies here. You will then be searched one last time, by one of our Sinkeepers. If all goes well you’ll then be given clothes to wear, then comes the warm meal! Yummy! Now get to it!” There was the crack of a whip in one guard’s hands. “Now!”

One by one a single Sinkeeper went from person to person unlocking the irons on their arms and legs giving them their first chance at some mobility in weeks. Bigwit, Dorian, Callum, Ruhi, Sabin, and the others in the front half were allowed to move now. Alexandre continued to crawl up the staircase that led to the deck. Its exit was flanked by soldiers of Arastora, again fully armored. They weren’t taking chances. It was hard to tell where any of the guards or soldiers looked at a time, only the one recording clothing lifted his visor revealing a young but astute face beneath. People began to strip, taking their clothes over to the now stacking pile. Names were getting recorded fairly easily. In the below decks the chains piled up as well from those who were now allowed to walk.

Lady Icebreaker walked to the back to watch the remaining prisoners and eyed the great Ogre they had with them. The guards left her to be by herself. Prisoners leaned away from her as she walked about them inspecting each person. She created an aroma of power wherever she walked. There was no fear in her.

Above on the deck were the majority of the sailors who crewed the vessel. Bleak Death was quite massive for the comparatively smaller amount of prisoners it held. But it became apparent that the rest of the space was used for carrying supplies which were brought onto the docks via ropes, pulleys, and simple cranes. Workers did their job diligently and were dressed for the cold, baring many furs and thick padded clothing.

Water basins had been set up in a circle on the more open areas of the docks. Naked and freezing the prisoners marched their way over to them and dipped old rags into the water before beginning to wipe their bodies down. They shivered horrible during this and when they finished slowly walked over towards more Sinkeepers. These ones had crates full of clothes beside them and more of those pole weapons in hand. There were tunics that went down to about knee length and braies, a form of loose trousers that were even shorter than the tunics. For those who couldn’t find anything in their size another crate was filled with loincloths, most of which were large and intended for Goliath, Ogre, and Xylor.

**

The Winter Lady was awakened by their cart hitting a bump. Where before the wheels sounded like they were on dirt now those inside could hear the sound of stone, Edwyn could hear it clearly. Finally they came to a stop. Inside the prisoners murmured until the back of the cart was opened up. Light bore in and upon them with intensity as they readjusted to its sight. A Sinkeeper stood at the back with a torch in hand. She was taller than the rest and stood out a bit because of it. The prisoners were then given their orders. “You are to leave the cart. Do not fight, do not dawdle. You will have your chains unlocked and then you are to strip.”

She motioned off to the side where they could yet not see. “Bring your clothes to the guard with the book, state your full name, then drop off your clothes. We have water basins set up, there wipe yourself down. You’ll be searched then given clothing, and finally you’ll get a meal.” The guard raised her voice. “And do clean thoroughly, you all smell terrible. If you get too cold come by my torch. If you try to take the torch I’ll burn you with it, then you’ll be really warm.” The prisoners climbed out as a guard unlocked each of their shackles.

They were in a stone yard inside of the walls and gate of Frostwarren. Out in the middle of the grounds were water basins, near to them stood a guard with a book. Her helm visor was raised showing her old wrinkled face beneath. The prisoners one by one took to stripping with Janice seeming very uncomfortable as she did so. No one stared at each other for long and a pile began to form of clothes of different makes. Along the walls guards patrolled and one had stopped atop the barbican to watch the prisoners below.

[Craze]

Callum chuckled at the little Goblin. It sounded disturbing, the grumpy old man laughing, like a wolf bursting into a chuckle before devouring its prey. Bigwit, huh? He could grow into liking this one. The 'Raving Caterpillar' part was a bit confusing, but Callum chose to ignore it for now.
"Yeah, he's something else..." he growled to the creature, his eyes still sternly focused on Dorian.

Lady Icebreaker seemed to agree. She went on ranting, making her position of power clear - and abusing it, seemed like. Callum frowned, somewhat disappointed. She wasn't that special after all. Not to him.

They had to get naked. Great. Callum had no shame and was least of all things self-conscious, but this was downright unnecessary and humiliating. Still, he obliged - the guard's poking stick didn't seem like much of a threat to him, but he didn't feel like ending up like Alexandre. He couldn't put much up a fight, not without his weapons. Not without his powers.

He was third in line, following after Bigwit and Dorian.
"Name?" the guard growled.
Callum sighed. "Fuck off."
They knew his name. He was sure of that.
"Last name?"
"Bite me."

He parted with his iconic attire with a slight wince, sad to hand it over to the guards. He then had to get clean, and was finally searched one more time. Callum went through it all with a stone face, as if he had been through this ritual one too many times.
Though, he did admit, he may have cast a glance or two towards the two ladies as they got undressed.
He was cold as a whaler's gaff hand, and he knew that if he were to escape from Frostwarren, the first people whose throats he would slice were that of Lady Icebreaker and her cohorts. Then he would head down south, hopefully retiring after all of this nonsense.

But such thoughts only worsened his predicament, so he carried on and focused on the task at hand. The tunics were shabby and ill-fitting, and Callum longed for his leather coat and red vest.