Jrake was being “processed” by the guild guards for quite a while now. After he and his group, along with the two other stragglers who emerged, were very aggressively brought to the entrance hall, they were forced to wait as the chaos and disarray was settled, something which took over an hour to do. Afterwards, they could finally spare the necessary manpower to escort them back to the island and talk to the local guilds’ leader about their “sabotage against the guilds and their authority.” And so, this entire time, he and his fellow “conspirators” were stripped of their gear, and of their magic, and forced to remain above the waves through their own power even as the heavy shackles threatened to pull them back into their natural environment.
And because of all this, furious wasn’t quite strong enough a word to describe what Jrake was feeling after being told what they were accusing him of, a rightful indignation towards the guilds and their overreaching as well as the morons who made them seem like this was something planned. What had initially been him setting out to take advantage of some chaos to make a bit of money had been completely twisted because someone simply couldn’t refrain from hurling insults or even threats, and now Jrake was suffering for it. All he could hope for now was that whoever they were going to meet would be one of the admittedly few guilds leaders on Vol which wasn’t drunk on power, but he was already prepared for the worst.
He wasn’t able to continue mulling over what lies in wait for him back at Sleepy Gills for very long, he was snapped back to attention when it seemed that the very ocean beneath them screamed in pain at something happening in the dungeon. A bang louder than most anything he’d ever heard before echoed out of the cavernous maw that was the entrance to that place, and he’d felt the waters beneath him relay their displeasure as the floor of the reef gave a mighty rumble.
After the initial fright wore off, he looked around and saw that most were less calm than he, and the guards were yet again forced to ease the tension of the situation, leaving as few people guarding them as they could to still look menacing. Apparently, however, the four fully armored and spear wielding lamias and mer-people they’d left weren’t enough to dissuade one of their prisoners, and despite the mana-disruption cast on him, the very extensive shackles, and the fact his gear had been confiscated, he still tried to dart away.
Jrake watched as the merman barely even managed to turn around and face downwards before the guard nearest him used the butt of her spear to conk him on the side of the head, then catch him before his unconscious body could submerge. She hoisted his body up unceremoniously afterwards, ensuring that his gills were above the water so that he’d have to continue to use his innate air respiration spell. It left them uncomfortable and even unable to do anything overly strenuous, as well as totally humiliated.
Jrake was forced to endure as throngs of people passed by above and below water, their looks of mocking and scorn were clear to see, and it was obvious that none amongst them had any doubt that he was the perpetrator to what was probably just an unusual event. Every moment of it was infuriating, and there was nothing he could say or do to change it.
And so, yet another hour passed in silence for the accused, mostly because they were barred from talking by their glorified captors, but also the fact that anything they had to say would only serve to make their time worse. They finally started their half-day journey back to the island, aided by spells and shells to keep them fast and keep them up, though since the sun was already well on its descent for the day they’d most definitely be locked away with far too much security until midday if they were lucky.
Oddly enough, though, he was wrong. After forcing his body to its limit just to keep up with their unnecessarily hasty guides dragging him along, he arrived at Sleepy Gills in the dead of night on the verge of collapse. Of course, he wasn’t spared a moments rest, and after a few spells of rest they were all dragged to one very solid looking building along the coast, where he was sat in a secure room with the rest of the band of accused terrorists. It was only a few minutes later that he watched the door open, and one of the most intimidating bipeds he’d ever borne witness to, the man they claim to be the local leader, sauntered into the room. Jrake would be forgiven for not believing this, the man didn’t look like he belonged anywhere near a desk, much less working an actual desk job.
Stolen novel; please report.
The skintight robe only served to show off his hulking frame, and his near lipless mouth did the same to the horrific teeth which lined his jaws. He looked at all six of them with a tired scowl, then sat on the comically undersized stool they’d left in the water across from them.
“I’ve been told that my guards have reason to believe you all were, somehow, the orchestrators of this little fiasco. Anyone care to tell me why you felt the need to take advantage of a pod of marauders wreaking havoc to enter the dungeon in a massive siege, all while calling it ‘retribution’ for the guilds?”
The question was tired and lazy, but the power behind his voice told Jrake that nothing good could come about from allowing this misconception to continue. Apparently the others shared the same opinion, because before he could even get a word in a cacophony of voices sounded out, coming together to make an incoherent mess of noise claiming innocence or shoving the blame elsewhere. This continued only a moment before the monster before them raised a hand to silence them, and none disobeyed.
“If I heard you all correctly, and I may not have,” he motioned to his ear with a self deprecating expression “none of you six were in any way behind a Craynor warship, a pod of marauders thousands of kilometers away from anywhere they’ve ever been seen in the past, or the explosion that sounded out from the dungeon not long after you all left?”
Six heads nodded in unison after that, though no one went to speak this time. The man thought a moment before he turned back to look at them.
“Alright, I can’t imagine any of you being capable enough for it anyways. Craynor would sooner become a democratic nation than work together with an aquatic so openly, and it’d take all six of you working together to take down a single marauder; leading twenty of the things would kill you. Maybe someone else brought them, and you just needed an opening to get in the dungeon and make something explode, but those beasts being so far south of their own volition makes more sense than someone being behind it. I’m still not certain you weren’t already planning on using an explosive and simply got a better opening to rush in, but I have no idea how any of you would manage to get the funds or the backers needed to get ahold of explosives of that caliber. Plus, mercenaries aren’t known for taking suicide missions. Just for being boisterous and arrogant, and occasionally saying something they shouldn’t have which seems incriminating.”
Jrake was a little frustrated at being told in no uncertain terms that this man thought him weak and arrogant, but the fact that the man before them was actually thinking calmly and reasonably, trying to figure out what exactly happened rather than labelling them criminals to earn favor was unlike any guild leader he’d worked with in the past. The fact that he had arms thicker than his tail and teeth sharper than most daggers also helped keep his irritation in check.
“So, does this mean we’re free to leave?” Asked his group’s healer, eager to be released from her constraints. The man turned to her, his lips curling up in a predatory grin, and spoke.
“No, it does not. I don’t think you did it, but others still do. You’ll have to be here for a while longer until there’s nobody thinks you’ve done something. And then I have to finish the necessary paperwork.”
Jrake could swear that he heard the behemoth mutter something about taking them down with him, but he couldn’t be entirely certain because of the six heartbroken moans and betrayed curses. One particularly brave lamia even went so far as to share his concerns about the man and his decisions in explicit detail, but when the offending man got a rather aggressive glare in response his tirade came to a sputtering conclusion.
The man got up shortly thereafter, sloshing through the waters of the cell towards the cell door. Just before he opened the bulky metal door, he turned to say one more thing.
“Oh, yeah. If it means anything, I don’t think any of you are risky enough to be worth leaving the shackles on, so I’ll get someone to take them off while you get taken to separate rooms.”
And with that, he walked off, leaving the six to stew in a mix of hope, surprise, anger, and confusion.