How long had she been there? How many years had passed since the war began? Why was she having such a hard time seeing everything around her? All these questions and more flew around Ashera’s head and she wanted answers. She couldn’t make her way over to the terminal to see what was going on, her body wouldn’t respond to her commands. Even if she tried to move, it was like her body had a mind of its own and would go where it wanted, bumping into desks and chairs, scraping along walls. This once neat and tidy office was now an obstacle course that she was failing to navigate. She was having such a hard time of it, she felt like she was intoxicated. She could hear others around her stumbling around. There were groaning noises coming, usually following a large bang or thud, from all around and it sounded like something out of the old zombie movies she liked to watch. As she stumbled, shuffled, and bumped, she felt she was trapped in the darkness.
Well, at least there was some light, probably from the emergency lights in the building. How long ago had all the other lights gone out? She couldn’t remember, her mind was foggy, she had trouble concentrating on anything other than her anger, her rage towards the elves. As she thought about it, she heard another groan. It sounded much closer than the others. She tried to spin around to see who was there… but her body wanted to go the other way. Her body kept moving forward. There was a sharp pain in her leg as she ran into a spinning chair and sent it down the path. She saw the glow from the terminal in the distance and decided to try getting to it once again. Against her wishes, her body turned away from the direction she wanted to go, and she fell to the floor.
“DAMN IT!” she screamed. As she scraped along the floor, she felt tired again as her consciousness faded and she fell into a deep sleep.
A sharp noise woke her, she felt herself jolt towards it. Moving violently, jerking from side to side, crashing into desks, chairs and other people along the way. The crowd of people all moving towards the doorway, trying to get to the source of the noise. Why did it seem everyone wanted to get to the noise at the same time? Was it a disaster? Was it an attack by the elves? The people all bottle necked at the doorway. She heard groaning coming from all around her as people pushed past her into the hallway.
“No! Stop! Damn it, why won’t my body listen to me!” She found herself finally in the hallway. She ran to the wall and pressed up against the glass outer wall of the building. From this close, it sounded like digging! Someone was trying to get into the building. Digging? But it was coming from above? Why was there digging coming from above?
Suddenly it was quiet again. Her body quieted down and stopped throwing itself against the glass. She began to shuffle slowly back to the other room. Frustrated that her body still wouldn’t listen to her, walking on its own.
“Fine, just get me back to the control room,” she thought. Her eyes were barely able to stay open as she was exhausted from all the commotion. She walked through the doorway, this time with relative ease. She made her way back to where she had been by the terminal. Bumping into desks along the way and pushing chairs out of her way. What was everyone doing? Why were all her friends and colleagues acting this way? Had the elves used some kind of spell to make them like this? She couldn’t concentrate to remember what had happened. She focused on the room around her once again.
It was in a large room mostly consisting of cubicles for workers which had seen better times. Most of the separation walls had fallen or been trampled over the years. The chairs and desks were in complete disarray, some in the old paths that had been between the cubicles, others turned over, others still standing against walls. There was a large control room at the end of the floor. A glass corridor encircled the floor which led to a large glass room. That door was the only one that could be opened from inside. Inside the room were cameras all pointed at its centre with one exception. One single camera was on a swivel looking around the room as though it was trying to find something. There were sprayers in the room, most of which looked like they were for creating a fine mist or vapour.
At the opposite end of the glass chamber was the control room with a large, thick, glass door that had a vault style lock on it. Inside the control room were a large array of computers and terminals all used for monitoring the external and internal cameras. They monitored flight, controlling machines in different locations and servers, that one would imagine, were filled with different information from Ashera’s time.
There was one specific terminal that she wanted to get to. It was the master, the one used for monitoring all the information gathered from the others. It would give her all the information she needed, all the answers she was missing. The control room was also accessible from the office if she could only get there. She struggled with all her might but still her body would not go where she told it. Frustrated at her lack of progress she slowly drifted back to sleep.
The digging woke her repeatedly, how long had this been going on? Days? Weeks? Months? Every time it started, she would scramble to the wall and start throwing herself at it almost as if she was possessed. The closer the digging got the less she went back to the old control room.
“Mhmrmmsf.” Someone was talking above her in the direction of the digging. They were close enough that she could hear, but not make out what they were saying. Why was this coming from above she wondered. It’s not like there should be anything for someone to stand on in the sky. The sky, the sun; she began to wonder why she hadn’t seen the sun in what felt like forever.
Then the cold began to sink in. How long had it been this cold? The air chilled her lungs with every breath. Did it though? Was she breathing. She hoped so, she hoped she was just so cold she couldn’t feel herself breathing. She imagined that if she could see her breath, it would be visible. Why wasn’t she cold? She decided this wasn’t the time to think about it. Maybe these people could get her out.
“Down here!” she screamed. The digging stopped again, and she drifted off to sleep.
Things were quiet for a while, to the point where she managed to make her way back to the control room. Now if only she could get herself over to the control panel, and she turned in the opposite direction.
“Fuck,” she thought. She knew it wouldn’t work but still, she wanted to try.
A sudden noise grabbed her attention. It sounded as though it was on the other side of the glass wall she had been smashing into. Off she went once again, stumbling and bouncing off walls and the furniture again. She made it to the wall where she could make out shapes on the other side. It looked like they had a light of some kind, but it wasn’t as steady as the flashlights she was used to; it flickered and danced against the glass. It appeared they were moving back and forth looking for a way in.
“Ho…. we… g... ...n?” Are they trying to get in? Perfect! They can reset everything using the terminal in the control room.
“Help I’m in here,” she screamed. She wanted to throw her hands up in frustration when no one answered but they were busy banging on the glass. When did she start banging on the glass, she wondered?
She still heard disjointed conversations from the other side of the wall. It sounded like they were discussing what was on the other side, her side of the wall. What did they mean? It was her and the other workers in the facility.
“We need help! Please!” She tried yelling one more time. This time the voices stopped, and the light slowly moved away. Noises started coming from further down the wall. She shuffled down the wall following the shadowy mass of people to where this new noise was coming from, beating on the glass wall and screaming for help at the top of her lungs. No response, just loud noises coming from the other side. They must be trying to break through the glass, she thought. It was thick; designed to keep them safe from different forms of radiation and other external effects.
A loud bang came from her previous location. Shadowy, not quite human figures burst through the glass and took off running in different directions. Some down the halls, some into the offices, some towards the control room.
“Quick! Spread out and grab as many supplies as you can!” one voice commanded.
She wasn’t sure if she heard them right. Was that elfish? It wasn’t in any dialect she knew. Just great she thought, more new elven races to deal with.
She took off after one of them as fast as she could, reaching out to her target like an animal. “I’ll get you, and make sure you pay for trying to take what is mine,” she exclaimed. She wasn’t running as quickly as she hoped, as she was having trouble seeing her target and the surroundings in the darkness. She fumbled around the room knocking into desks again, trying to find the thief.
Her hand grazed something warm and scaly, that must be it! A damn elf got in here! She threw herself at the creature but missed, as it seemed to fly up to the ceiling. It landed and took off running again towards the control room.
“Wait, don't go through here, this is containment! You’ll get killed,” she screamed. Nothing.
It was like her target didn’t understand her or didn’t care; either way, this didn’t look good. If they triggered the self-defence of the building everyone who wasn’t human would be killed. She willed herself to go faster, but she was already going as fast as she could safely in the dark. Or so she thought, her body was just more or less chasing the source of the noise. Unable to keep up fully with her target, all she could do was scream after them and hope they would be distracted enough to slow down. As she ran through the first door of the contamination chamber, she heard a click behind her. Odd... that normally didn’t happen if a human was the last one to enter the room. She decided it was not worth worrying about and refocused. She needed to get her target out of there and to safety.
“No! Stay back you monster!” Ashera heard her target cry as they slammed the door in her face, locking her in the contamination chamber. Why did this person’s Elvish sound so broken? Who was a monster? What were they talking about? She wasn’t a monster; how could they not recognize a human?
“Let me out of here! We need to turn off the system or else you will all die!” She wasn’t being understood. Before she had time to continue processing what was going on the defence system booted up.
“ZzZztt…. Scanning c...tamin...v her,” it was designed that whatever specimen was locked in the contamination cage would remain alive so it could be studied to prevent a future event. Turrets deployed from the ceilings all over the building. She had helped build this system so she knew it would only fire kill shots.
“NO!” She screamed. Her scream was drowned out by the sound of gunfire and screaming coming from other rooms. This went on for what seemed like forever then there was silence. The silence was deafening to her, she knew all her friends that were here in this building were now dead. The intruders, likely being non-humans, were safe at least so there would be someone to get her out of the room.
The silence was broken by unfamiliar voices.
“Is ev.. o..?”
“Damn it let me out,” Ashera screamed.
“In here everyone. There’s still one left, it’s locked in the chamber.”
The other people took a step towards the door. They looked at her for a long time and then continued with their conversation.
“What the blazing hell was that?! Have you ever seen creatures like those before and what the hell are those creatures that dropped from the ceiling and blew them away?”
What the ever-loving fuck were they talking about? What creatures were they talking about? Did they mean all those people who had just been killed? How could they not know what those turrets were? They are placed in every major city, every major building to protect people in case of invasion by the elves.
She pressed herself against the glass wall separating her from the creatures straining her eyes to see what was going on. She saw creatures enter the room.
Druids?! Why are they dressed in rags? She couldn’t make out much more and her eyes were still not properly adjusted to the new light. She saw various heights and shapes. “Fascinating,” she thought, “I wonder why they are here.”
“Let me out, I’ll help you get away from the elves once I’ve figured out what went wrong,” she said, looking at them with hope in her eyes. No reaction. Perhaps they couldn’t speak English? She tried again. Nothing. What could be wrong? She watched as they cautiously approached the control desk heads tilting back and forth. It looked like they were talking quietly to each other, trying to figure out what to do. Some held up swords and bows, others were shaking their heads no. Some pointed at the control console with looks of wonder in their eyes.
“Ahh!” she exclaimed. This seemed to cause them to jump back a bit. They probably can’t hear because of the glass she thought. Maybe if I motion towards the controls, they need to hit to let me out it will help. Beating on the glass she tried to gesture towards the red and white button that would redo the scan and let her out.
***
They stood and stared down the hole that opened at the side of the cave next to the strange glass wall. Some wondered what had caused it while others wondered what was down there. One of them grabbed a torch and tossed it down; they all watched as the light faded into the darkness. It was a deep chasm, deep enough that the light was not strong enough to be seen.
“What did you do that for? What if somethin’ comes up at us?'' Tyrnal exclaimed looking at Suntiana. Suntiana was a Harpy, a flying beast species. Her wings had beautifully coloured feathers of reds, deep oranges, and bright yellows intermingled with deep blues and purples. They made her look like royalty. She was tall and slender, not very shapely as most Harpy women, but her form made it easier to fly. Her face was slender, with beautiful piercing golden eyes, framed with short auburn hair that was always kept up and out of her eyes. When she looked at you it was like she was looking right through you. The talons on her feet were sharp enough to tear through even the toughest of hides.
Suntiana shrugged, “I wanted to know how deep it was. Simple as that, Tyrnal.” Suntiana wasn’t a complicated individual; she spoke her mind and didn’t care who it rubbed the wrong way. “Now we know it goes deep, and we know there isn’t anything imminently dangerous coming up for us.”
Suntiana smiled a beautiful and deadly smile. A plan was forming in her head and that meant trouble for everyone else. She turned to Tyrnal and gestured to the dusty tomes, tilting her head. With these simple movements, Tyrnal knew he was going to be in for a night of reading and trying to figure out what this might be. He was a studious looking elf, small in stature with long braided hair pulled back into a ponytail. This exposed his face which was handsome with large eyes, as all elves have, but Wood-elves especially. His nose was sharp but rounded at the end with two dimples on the side from where his glasses always rested. He was toned but not muscular and could almost disappear in plain sight if needed.
He grabbed the books and headed over to the closest torch and started pulling the tomes apart. These were ancient texts from before the War of the Elves, maybe even before the elves had split apart into different races, he speculated. The one in his hand was written in elvish, but again it was an ancient version of elvish pulling from all modern-day elven races. Some words and phrases he couldn’t make out but through the context of the surrounding text, he could make assumptions of their meaning. This text in particular was interesting; it was titled “...wa travel guide.” It seemed to be an ancient map. It didn’t seem to have any points of reference for the current layout of the world making it next to impossible to decipher where they were. For his next book, he picked up one that he couldn’t make out. It was a foreign language; one no one had written in, in centuries at least. How long does it take for a language to die, he wondered? Thumbing through the tome he noticed there were some references written in the ancient elven language. They referred to something called a magic storehouse. He wondered what that was. A storage place for magical items perhaps? How was this possible? Magic was only supposed to be usable by high elves so why would they have a magic storehouse here of all places? He looked through the books for a similar tome in elvish and found a “volume 2” whatever that meant. He lost himself in his reading and time seemed to slip by.
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“Why are we wasting our time? Let’s just go down there and see what we can take!” one of the other members yelled at Suntiana. He was an impatient man, seemingly incapable of standing around. He was a Boarite, a type of beastite. Beastites are what the elves had named the different races of this world. Not much for imagination, were they? Each race was defined by their animal characteristics. He was short, wide, and looked like he could take on an entire battalion of men in a fight. He was grey in colour, a sign of age and with that came great respect from other Boarites. The fur on his head was styled in a mohawk meant to inspire respect from his allies and fear from his enemies. His face was covered with moles, warts, and scars. His eyes were a magnificent deep red.
“If we do that and everyone gets killed, how are you going to feel Rothar? I like to be prepared, and it will take as long as it takes,” Santiana said with a cold smile that insinuated the conversation was over. She looked back at Tyrnal wondering how long it actually was going to take. The days slowly passed by with people coming and going from the cave, some going out to exchange arm bands for food and water, others just stretching their legs, and all the while Tyrnal continued to read the old tomes.
Tyrnal was still trying to decipher part of the ‘Volume 2’ tome that explained what was stored in the place beneath them. So far, he had found there to be a store of supplies such as water, military style food rations, and clothing. Along with a cache of a few weapons and something called ‘medication’ whatever that was. There was some mention of experimentation but mostly on plants and small animals. Nothing of note ever happened to them, so he figured there was no chance of anything dangerous being down there. Still, he decided to pour through more of the tome. There was something in there about stasis shifting, the procedure used when imminent danger was detected; the system would do this to save the occupants of the building.
It seemed that stasis shifting, from what he could make out was an old spell, one made by… he couldn’t make out their name some dead language he assumed as it looked the same as the other tomes he couldn’t read. The spell would take the occupants of the building and put them in a state of stasis to preserve them from damage. It looked like it was incomplete though, judging from the notes scribbled in the margins.
There was more information on where the supplies would be kept. Some information on a ‘central control system’ but some of the parts of this text were worn from damage to the book. Once the light from the entrance began to reflect down the mirrored side of the cave, he decided it was time.
“Okay, from what I have read there shouldn’t be anything dangerous down there. I think if we dig down close to the bottom of the building there should be a way into it without much problem. The main thing is going to be the amount of time it will take. From what I have read there is something like forty to fifty of these mirrored sides stacked on top of each other to make this building called a ‘skyscraper.’ I don’t get how it is supposed to scrape the sky from this far underground. Either way, we have quite a lot of digging to do,” Tyrnal explained. Looking around at his fellows he realised most of that had gone over their heads, Suntiana seemed to be following along though, or at least was trying to give that impression. Okay, let’s try something simpler he thought. “If we go down far enough, we can get food, water and weapons. If we’re smart about how we do it, we can use this place as a new safe haven.”
Everyone nodded to this, he just shook his head. Simpletons, the lot of them. What he hadn’t explained was how long it would take. Even with all of them working in shifts, if he had counted the number of ‘floors’ in this ‘skyscraper’ correctly it could take months if not years to excavate down to it. Best to keep that to himself though, can’t take away all their hope.
“We are going to need tools and a work schedule, plus a place to dispose of all the extra dirt we will be bringing up,” he started to explain. He continued like this, explaining how they would make footholds in the side with the help of the Badgerites because of their sharp claws. They would use the buckets and little rope they had to help pull up the excavated dirt, or Rothar and his kin could haul it out of the pit up the ladder they would make. They would pile the dirt by the entrance of the cave to not raise suspicion from the guards and dispose of it at night. They continued to plan out the details and shifts for them to work in and when and who would go and get water from the town for them to share.
Once the plan was fully fleshed out, they began. The Badgerites led the way, followed by Rothar, and lastly Tyrnal. As they descended, Tyrnal counted the panes of the mirrored surfaces as they descended. By the time he had reached the bottom of the pit, they had passed nearly fifteen of them. He also guessed that there were five or so above where the cave was based on the height of the mirrors in the cave and that the building seemed to go almost to the surface. All in all, he figured they were approximately twenty floors down the building, meaning they would have to dig down another thirty to reach the bottom. This was the start of their real work, he thought.
Not much later, down came workers with makeshift shovels, rope, and buckets to help haul the dirt up to the cave. Tyrnal stayed down there with the workers to manage the progress. He first suggested they dig back under the cave a few meters to make room for them to stand while working and to make a staircase for them to climb up and down on as they descended further down. He also recommended they strike the ground first before moving to stand on it in case a collapse occurred.
They worked tirelessly, only taking breaks for water and to eat what little food they had scrounge together. Hours passed and little progress was made; the ground was harder than he had accounted for, and their makeshift shovels were far weaker. This would not do; they could make some progress in the meantime but would need better tools if they wanted to make it down before they all died.
A new plan would be needed to get things moving along. They would need to steal some proper tools from the city or trade some sun sparks for them. Sunsparks were a type of drug with powerfully hallucinogenic properties. They weren’t easy to come by, but the guards loved them as did most others on the island. It would be a hard sell as having people ask about why they needed the tools would only invite trouble for the group. They could make some tools from animal parts in the desert, but getting anything off the corpses came with its own set of risks. They would want the teeth from a Dragolisk ; harder than most materials you could find on this island, but not as good as the ones brought in by the guards for construction. He would have to talk to Suntiana about it when he climbed out.
Days later he slowly climbed out of the hole to give himself time to think of how to approach Suntiana. Once at the top, he found there was quite the commotion going on. He looked around for Suntiana and found her laughing and joking around with an unusual Beastite. An audible gasp escaped his lips, it was a Wolfite. The Wolfite was tall, about 3 meters and a half, this was tall compared to most Beastites and was part of what made them so feared. His fur was black; not the kind you would say the night sky was but like staring into the void black, and with flashes of red interwoven it looked like fire was leaped all around his body.
"No wonder he’s the centre of attention right now," Tyrnal thought. Looking at him more now in the light he could see the well-defined features he was muscular and lean. His face was long and slender. Tyrnal could see his jaw was well defined and pronounced, his smile full of yellowed teeth that looked more like a demon's maw than a Beastite’s. His fangs were long and curved. It’s amazing he doesn’t cut up his gums, Tyrnal thought. His maw went further back to his bright yellow almost blazing eyes that darted from person to person almost as if he was hunting.
What had happened while he was in the hole?
***
The waters around the isle of Trasorna ran red with the blood of those lost to its harshness. The cries of the inhabitants echoed long and far over the ocean, leaving no room to mistake the hellish place to which they were headed. The island’s inhabitants consisted of the Guards, the prisoners, the recruits and the isle born. Prisoners living in fear of the guards and the isle born living in fear of the prisoners, it was a vicious cycle that left everyone on edge.
To transport new prisoners to the isle they used the most decrepit ship imaginable. The ship from the outside was so worn out and riddled with holes it was hard to not think of it as being retired for firewood. The planks were worn, cracked, and shrunk with age, so much so that you could see the hold below the deck. The masts were more cracks than masts in most places, some were even split from deck to sail. Others were held together with more magical runes and metallic braces than the eye could count. The sails were ripped and tattered, looking more like beggars’ rags than sails. Once onboard, every step the prisoners took made them wonder if they were going to fall through to the hold below. Below deck, in the living quarters, the floor was soggy with seawater and smelled of mould.
These quarters were a place for prisoners to spend their time eating and resting between their twelve-hour shifts at the oars. The oars were the only part of the ship that were new, made from steel and magically enhanced to keep them from sinking the ship but still leaving them heavy enough that the prisoners would feel the weight as they rowed. The elves knew how to make sure they knew their place in the new pecking order.
There was always one guard on board to make sure no one tried to escape. Not that they could if they wanted to, the elves provided them with magical weights to wear during the journey. These weights would suck in water the moment they touched it making it impossible for any prisoners to escape a watery grave. The guard was the only one on board who had a teleportation scroll to use to get off in case the ship started to sink. The elves had no need for the prisoners, so they were expendable and easily replaceable.
“Right, you scum,” the guard bellowed as the prisoners all took their position at the oars, “get rowing.” He looked up to the taskmaster, another inmate from the island, “Make sure t’work them extra hard. These criminals don’t deserve mercy.”
Walking by the Wolfite the guard spat. “Especially this one. No one cares what happens to his kind.”
If the Wolfite and the other prisoners managed to survive the harrowing trip they would consider themselves lucky. The guard was likely to take anything they brought with them and blame the taskmaster or other inmates. The inmates had all been through this, so they knew the routine, kept their mouths shut about it, and looked the other way.
He worked longer and harder than any of the other prisoners, only getting a break of four hours to eat and sleep a day. Rowing became harder for him the longer the journey took. Days went by, and there was still no sign of the torture relenting. He began to wonder if they would ever make landfall. After another few days, in total about a week or so had passed they heard from the upper deck, “bring in the oars were at the docks.”
All the prisoners and inmates felt a palpable feeling of relief; they had survived the journey. One by one he watched as his fellow prisoners were released from the shackles holding them to the oars and led down to the docks. The guard finally came to him and spat again; a look of disgust came across his face as he bent over to undo the chains. Once his chains were undone, he was shoved more than led down to the docks.
“Right, Next!” The guard bellowed to keep the line moving. One after the other they were being processed like cattle to the slaughter. Once he was on the docks, he could clearly see the violations were only going to get worse. He could see prisoners up ahead getting stripped and searched in full view of all the onlookers who came to check out the new batch of arrivals. He noticed the female prisoners had it especially hard, their search was a little more invasive than the rest. He looked around wondering why no one was saying or doing anything to stop it.
“Next and be quick about it. We ain’t got all day!” The guard bellowed again. “Oh, but for you maybe we’ll make an exception.” Slicking his greasy fur back out of his eyes and licking his lips that had pursed into a twisted smile. “For a lovely lady like yourself, we have all the time in the world.”
The skeezy guard was a Jackelite; a scavenger who was easy for the elves to manipulate. He was short in stature and hunched over which made him look all the more subservient to the guard captains standing behind him. His fur was a light brown with a smattering of greys and blacks running through it. His face was narrow, and his front teeth were broken, likely in his beatings to make him so submissive. He had dark, dull, little eyes, which looked like all the life had been beaten out of him. His one ear was broken and flopping whenever he spoke, it would be hard not to feel bad for him if he wasn’t such a creepy little prick.
The new female prisoner, clearly scared, looked around for help. Again, He wondered why no one was stopping this insanity. He went to step forward when he felt a hand on his shoulder stopping him. It was only a second but that was long enough to see someone else run forward.
“Let my mate go!” he roared. Looking as menacing as a drowned kitten with his hands still in shackles and his arms behind his back. He was a Pantherite just like the woman was. Before he got even a step closer to her, he was struck with the blunt side of a sword knocking him to his knees.
“What do we ‘ave here?” the guard asked, circling him like a predator circling its prey. He looked the Panterites up and down and laughed. “You mean to tell me we have a mated pair here? That just won’t do. You see, all the women here need our protection from the ravenous inmates and prisoners.” He licked his lips again.
“Unfortunately for you, her protection from them starts with you.” In one fell swoop, he took his dagger and plunged it into the neck of Pantherite severing his head from his spine. “Anyone else want to speak on this female’s behalf?”
Silence fell over the new prisoners and inmates alike. All the Wolfite could do was stand there and watch as the woman ran to her dead husband’s side. She yowled in sorrow and anger. Chained such as she was though, she could do nothing about it. The guard grabbed her and brought her up to the captains who took her into the hut for her more thorough exam. Almost instantly, a different kind of screaming could be heard coming from the hut.
As her screams fell over the new prisoners, another guard dragged the dead male away by his tail. Uncaring, undignified, just another dead prisoner to add to the piles.
The Wolfite turned around to see a small Wood-elf had been the one to hold him back. He nodded at the elf in appreciation for saving his life. The elf whispered to him as if saying the words softer somehow made them less cruel. “As a male, we have it easy; stripped, searched, and sent on our way. If you’re a female, the treatment is almost always like that.”
“Next!” the Jackelite bellowed. It was the Wolfites’ turn. He stepped forward, doing his best to keep his hood over his face. The guard undid the weights that had been placed on him before the journey had begun seeing as there was nowhere for him to run now.
“Perfect, now that feels much better. Could someone point me to the pool and the bar? After all that work to get here, I need a drink and a dip,” the Wolfite remarked in the friendliest manner he could. He was really hoping for a laugh to make this go smoother. The guards, however, did not share his sense of humour. Wam! The pommel of a sword struck him in the side of the head.
The whole yard went silent, the rabble from the ship, the guards who were beating inmates for fun stopped mid-swing, and there was a palpable fear that crept over the crowd. This was not an unexpected reaction for him. Wolfites are a rare species even among beastites, some even proposed that they had gone extinct.
“Look at me, making all these friends on my first day,” he said through a toothy grin. He was trying to look friendly and failing at it. Everyone took a step back from him, even the screams stopped as the guard captain poked his head out to see what was going on.
He readied himself for a beating like this hell had never seen before as he stared straight at the guard who was poised to give it to him. The guard captain came running down the hill, pants still down around his ankles, screaming inaudible orders to the guard who was going to strike. The captain managed to make it there just in time to stop the guard from striking.
“He’s… h… here…. o... n… on royal decree.” The captain panted. Catching his breath and letting go of the guard’s hand he said, “Don’t make us the target of the queen’s ire. Get him processed and leave him to this hell.”
“I’m not touching this monster!” the guard yelped. “I definitely ain’t searching him, and I definitely ain’t undoing his chains!” This was good for the Wolflite; apparently, he came with a certain stigma that could be useful when negotiating with the guards in the future. “Newbie, get the fuck out here, it’s your lucky day. Time for your first intake.”
“Coward must have thought himself to be hot shit ordering some rookie around to do his unwanted work.” the Wolfite thought. Out came this young almost too young, at least for a Wood-elf, guard. She was cute to be sure, with fair skin even with the caked-on mud from doing whatever it was she had been doing behind the guard hut. Her face, although smudged with dirt, was refined, it had an elegance about it. She had the most beautiful smile across her face. She walked with pride; her chest puffed out trying to look important now that she was doing an intake. That was until she realised who that intake was going to be. She got one look of the Wolfite, made a noise that would make sirens’ ears bleed and the young turn old. Then passed out collapsing on the spot.
Being a Wolfite, while not a crime in itself, but it was not without its prejudice. Most high elves held Wolfites in contempt for no other reason than they were halfway intelligent. They possessed the strength and tenaciousness of the beastites and intelligence rivalling the Elves. Meaning in most cases, they had some affinity for magic. This meant the elves had orders for them to be exterminated on sight or imprisoned. This Wolfite had been smart enough to turn himself in rather than fight to the death.
Trying to not sound too offended by her passing out and at the same time trying to sound light-hearted, “So are we going to get this moving? I hear you don’t have all day.” Well, that got them to stop laughing at the poor women and instantly their expressions turned to anger.
“You heard the monster, wake her up.”
A bucket of water was thrown on her and she woke with a gasp and a start. Looking around as though she hoped it had all been a prank only to see the Wolfite, was in fact, standing there waiting for her to approach. “D..D... Do I h..ha...have to?” she pleaded with the guards that were standing around.
“Better you than me. Now get at it!” He barked, shoving her down the hill towards the Wolfite. She scrambled to her feet on the way down and looked at the Wolfite as though she was expecting him to eat her whole.
“Artemis is the name and I won’t bite you, unless you’re into that kind of thing. Maybe you want to take a stroll up to the hut and we can discuss this in a more intimate setting?” Artemis said with a wink and a grin. This one was less menacing looking than the last. She smiled at this apparently it wasn’t something she wouldn’t entertain. Interesting thought Artemis, maybe she's more adventurous than she let on. “What’s your name love?”
She stood there blushing a little bit and smiling, “It’s none of your concern what my name is inmate, now stand still while I take off your shackles.” She moved toward him consciously but with purpose and undid the shackles around his wrists and around his waist. With his hands finally free he rubbed his wrists that had become chafed during the long voyage. He grabbed her hand as she went to pull away from him and gently kissed it on the back. She turned bright red. Pulling her hand back while trying not to smile she said, “enough of this shit inmate! Clothes off, legs spread and arms out.”
Never one to disappoint a lady, Artemis took off his clothes and placed them on the ground. Standing facing her, Artemis spread his legs and put his arms out. Standing there naked in front of an ever-growing audience was embarrassing, even for him. It was a good thing his jet-black fur was so dark and thick as it obscured the growing blush on his skin. She began to pat Artemis down looking for any smuggled goods on his person, she moved down and noticed there was a bag tied around his upper thigh. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a knife. In one quick motion, she cut the purse from its hiding place. A bag dropped down with a sizable weight to it, she opened it and to her surprise, it was full of coins.
Artemis bent down a little and whispered: “Shhh if you don’t say anything and pocket them the other guards won’t take your prize.” He quickly stood back up winking at her on his way. She smiled again and pocketed the coins. Once she was satisfied that there was nothing else on his person she stood up and walked back in front of Artemis.
“Not that it’s any of your business but my name is Valura. Now move along to the next station.” She said. She winked at Artemis and Hollered “Next!”
This got the other guards laughing at her. Valura, Artemis would have to remember her name, she might be able to help him out. He moved on to the next checkpoint where he was given a new set of clothes. They weren’t cheaply made like he expected; they were heavy and good for cold nights but light enough that a harsh day's sun wouldn’t make you boil. Next, he was given an arm band, it was like the one all the prisoners wore. It bore the crest of the Balgora kingdom, the Elves' capital. It was a twisted tree whose leaves turned to birds and whose roots turned to snakes. As further proof of their imprisonment all prisoners were also given a matching brand on their person. It was an excruciating process as they burned the prisoners’ flesh with the brand permanently scaring them with the prison mark. After Artemis was branded and had his armband on, he was given a canteen of water. The canteen would last, if full, three or four days. He was lucky his canteen was full.
Water was the only thing provided to the prisoners upon arrival in terms of survival, everything else you had to find, steal or barter for. Water was also the only item given to people twice a week. It wasn’t easy to get water on this island, the prisoners all had to travel to Velgora. The only city on the island and it was a strict and harsh place, more so than the waists when the prisoners were forced to live. What made it so harsh was to get in you had to get past the guards and depending on their mood this was sometimes next to impossible. First the person who wanted to enter had to prove that you lived on the island which meant if you were a prisoner showing both their armband and brand, if they were an island born it meant showing your armband. Welcome to the only place where being born automatically made you a criminal. If the guard felt like letting them pass into the city without incident, they took the chance and ran for it. Otherwise, the guards would likely make them compete in a duel for the guard’s entertainment. Most days the guards would make them fight till one could no longer go on and the victor would get a ration of water; but sometimes if the guards were feeling particularly cruel mood, they would make the prisoners fight to the death or deny both a ration of water. Furthermore, if the guards were at shift change and the unlucky prisoner was on their way out. The guard might decide to take the ration away from them just for fun. It didn’t matter if an inmate died their deaths would never be reported and the city would continue to get the funding for the prisoner anyway. The current population of the island is sighted as being ten thousand four hundred and sixty-six. The actual number is closer to half of that.
One more looks back at the closest to freedom he would be again, he saw Valura inspecting more prisoners and that damn Jackelite was being punished by the captain for something. Artemis had a good chuckle at that.