Prison Faction

[mysterium]

(Do NOT post/comment here unless if you are part of the group at this thread, comments there too)


The prisoners watched as they approached the fortress which would so soon become there residence. The sight of it inspired terror, with massive battlements towering over the desolate plain below. Towers set every one hundred feet made hope of stealthily scaling the walls impossible. Carved from the mountain it stood, an impregnable fortress whcich none save those admitted could enter. An icy rain fell, carried on by great gusts of wind. Two Kyrie guards led the prisoners, lashing out with a rod of wood at those too slow. They too didn’t care much for the rain, and were eager to get inside. Nearing the gate, dozens of eyes trained on the prisoners.
“Open up!” The nearest guard shouted, clearly impatient to get inside.
Without reply, the massive gates slowly swung backwards, revealing an array of guards standing about, curious about the new prisoners. The guards, ignoring the prying eyes, went to one of the buildings, a small little hut of sorts. The prisoners entered, and were met with a curious sight.
At a table was seated an old hag of a Kyrie, sporting a long quill and several massive texts, along with another, equally old male kyrie.
“You are dismissed,” the old female Kyrie nodded towards the guards, who left, probably to seek some warmth by a fire.
“Now, I’m here to figure about you lot. Who’s first?” He said this all with a wicked grin as he scanned the audience.
“You there! Step up, I have a few questions…”
The elf he selected was young, not more than perhaps twelve or so. He was a slight, almost sickly build, with fierce blue eyes, that seemed to be shattered like pieces of glass. He didn’t look towards the hag, but rather the opposite wall.
“Name?”
“Syrage,” the elf mumbled.
“Species-elf, general- Ullar, relatives… who are your relitives?”
“Skira, and the King and Queen of the realm of Aleneindall.”
The hag found nothing of this in his papers, so began a new slip of parchment.
“Why were you summoned?”
“To fight.”
“But how do you fight?”
“Magic”
“Would you mind looking at me?”
At this, Syrage turned sharply, his eyes staring blankly at the hag, who suddenly realized those eyes saw nothing.
Realizing the elf was clearly unrelated to anything already in Valhalla (and the elf was of no particular strength), he decided to finish the conversation. “Very well. Go through the corridor behind me, and then go into the cavern. And don’t try anything; the undead will get you otherwise. As for right now, though, they won’t harm you.”
“So, who’s next?”

[flameslayer93]

The next prisoner slowly flew to the table, with eyes fixed upon the Kyrie with the quill behind the desk.
"Eh, a Kyrie prisoner? This should be good. So what is your name?" the Kyrie almost smirked knowing all too well of the kyrie.
"Larco Relss," replied the Kyrie without any tone shifts.
"Species-Kyrie, general?"
"I follow no general." The Kyrie claimed, still toneless.
"Ahh, as I thought. The savage Kyrie is here," the robed Kyrie was smiling. "Any family from your tribe?"
"They are all dead, long before your wings were sprouted they died. Do not worry, they haunt the eternally damned," the Kyrie replied in the same voice.
"Interesting beliefs for a savage. How do you fight?" the robed Kyrie went on jotting down words quickly.
"I fight with magic and sword," the Kyrie claimed.
"Interesting, so savage I have no use for you anymore. Fly into a higher cell hall. Go," the robed Kyrie ordered. "Guards, don't let this one near your arms."
"Understood," the guards said simultaniously.
The Kyrie guards and Larco all flew upwards as the robed one motioned for the next prisoner to approach.

[dragonfire9788]

A man was shuffled in at spear-point, dragging his feat along the floor as to make the lives of the guards more miserable. His face was covered by a burlap sack that was stitched in several places. He wore a tattered tunic with breeches that went down to his knees. His feet were bare and covered in dirt. A guard scowled at the man as he was forced onto his knees before the kyrie leader.
"Thank you," The old kyrie said. "You are excused."
"You might want us in here, ma'am," One of the kyrie said. His back stood straight and his right hand was wrapped tightly around his spear. "He's a fighter."
"I'm sure I can handle it." The old kyrie clasped her hands together. Her bones were brittle and her face was wrinkled. Three layers of bags fell from her eyes.
The kyrie guards knew that they had better not go against the wishes of their mistress. They hustled to the door and it closed sharply behind them.
"Name?" The old kyrie brought out a fresh piece of parchment and dipped her quill to get fresh ink.
Seeing that the man wasn't going to respond, she decided to make the situation more personal. "You may remove the bag, if you wish."
For some reason, the man's hands were not bound. He reached them up, revealing his dirty, hairy arms that were average as far as muscles went. The bag came off and fell to the floor. His face, dirty as the rest of his body, showed experience. He was a man of at least forty. He had a mustache and a five o' clock shadow with unkempt brown hair that was cut short. His eyes were brown and he turned them up at the old kyrie.
"Name?"
The man pondered, as if he had forgotten. "Iain Cross. Staff Sergeant."
She recorded the information on the parchment. "Species is human and gender is male. General?"
"Jandar. I lead a platoon."
"A member of the airbourne elite, eh?"
He nodded.
"I assume you have no relatives." That was written down.
"There's my mother. She's back in Illinois, though."
The old kyrie simply ignored this comment, staring at her paper with a dull sense of urgency. She dipped the quill into the inkwell again and clicked her tongue.
"Reason for summoning?"
Iain cocked his head in her direction. "I'm very good at improvisation. You'll notice when I escape in a few days."
She scoffed. "Yes, hold onto that last bit of hope. It surely is all you have left. Guards, escort him out. Eventually you will realize that there is no escape."

[Gold1]

The next one confidently strode up to the desk. The old Kyrie raised an eyebrow. He didn’t even have to call this one up. He was of the same species as the airborne elite, although his appearance was quite different. His skin was slightly more tanned, he had no hair at all and black trench coat was wrapped about him. He was also a fair deal younger. How the man could see the Kyrie could only guess with the pair of sunglasses pressed against his eyes. A big grin cropped out from the human’s lips as he awaited instruction.
“Name?” The Kyrie stated.
“The names Bond, James Bond.” The man said in an accent so ridiculous it couldn’t have been his.
“Are you lying to me?” The Kyrie asked incredulously
“Oh I wouldn’t dream of lying to you. I will however, admit that I’m declining to reveal the truth.”
The Kyrie gave the man a look of mixed shock and disgust and proceeded to right down the name. It didn’t matter what the man’s true identity was, he was as good as dead anyway.
“General?”
“No I’m afraid you have me confused with someone else. I’m merely a simple mercenary. We don’t have ranks. We’re more like privates who can do whatever they please.”
The Kyrie began hearing a small murmur of laughter from amongst the group of new fighters.
“Silence,” he said with a hiss. “Which Kyrie General do you belong to you piece of scum! Where does your allegiance lie?”
“Well if you must know I’m currently in the employ of Vydar, and he pays very well. As for my allegiance I must say the New Boston Warriors when their good.”
The Kyrie ignored that last comment and dipped his quill into the ink pot to resume writing.
“Fighting style and weapons of choice?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that my friend or it would ruin the surprise. But I will warn you. I’ve already thought up of thirteen ways to kill you right now, seven with the quill your currently holding.”
The hag cackled a hideous laugh that was more like a bark, and banged his quill upon the table.
“You are a queer one aren’t you?”
Looking up however the Kyrie no longer saw smirking grin that had been there an instant before. Instead the man’s expression was dark and serious. He stared down the aged one with a look of deadly determination and rage. The Kyrie flinched, quickly pulling back the quill away from the man’s vicinity.
“Guards!” He bellowed.
Two different Kyrie warily opened the door.
“Escort this one out and put him in the deep cells near the torture chamber. Feel free to make him feel welcome in his new home.”
The guards smiled at each other with looks of pure delight. They enjoyed the mundane feeling they experienced each time a prisoner was placed upon the rack. They proceeded to remove the trench coat man from the room. Just before they exited however, the man turned his head back and gave the Kyrie the same broad grin. A shiver crept up the Elder’s spine as the door slammed once more. Shaking it off the Kyrie cleared his throat and eyed the crowd of prisoners.
“You there,” He declared pointing at one hidden behind the majority of the group. “Come up and show yourself.”

[bumper15]

A young boy of about 17 stepped out of the shadows. There was an air of confidence around him that was not present in most prisoners, he almost seemed like he wanted to be there.
"Name?"
The boy stared at the Kyrie for a time. "The name's Orin. I have nothing to hide like that Bond fella'. Though he gave you quite a scare didn't he? I could see it all over your face."
The guards became nervous, they had known their warden for decades, and never saw her give any hint of her true emotions.
The Kyrie also grew cautious, this boy saw too much."Species-human" She said while she wrote.
"I'm sorry? I'm not human. I'm a Wood-Sprite. Don't worry about it though, it is a common misconception. My brothers and sisters will be missing me, can you hurry up so I can go?"
"Good luck with that," the Kyrie snorted, "You're a prisoner, you aren't going anywhere."
"Not true, I walked right in and I can walk right out. I was hiding there for the past six hours waiting for you. You didn't see me until I wanted you to."
This last statement made the Kyrie uncomfortable. This boy was in a prison and he wasn't in the least worried. He was even talking of escaping right to her. She had no doubt he could do what he said. She would have to keep him watched. At last she asked, "General?"
"My brothers, sisters, and I are passed between Ullar and Aquilla since their combined efforts saved us. Whichever one needs an assassination or infiltration calls us, we're the best."
The Kyrie needed to get this kid out of her sight as quickly as possible. He was making her more and more uncomfortable. "Weapon of choice?"
"Bow and arrow, I am the best archer in the world. Also the rapier."
The warden paused, set in the wall, so close to her head that it took some of her hairs, was a dagger.
"I'm also pretty mean with a dagger," was all the boy said.
"I thought you had him checked for weapons," the male warden stated disapprovingly, apparently studying the female warden's progress.
"Guards, get this brat out of my sight!" the warden hollereed, unable to maintain her composure any longer.
"Don't bother, I can find my own way."
In two steps he disappeared down the corridor. The guards went after him, but returned with nothing.
He just vanished.
A mocking laugh echoed throughout the fortress.

[ABOMINATION]

The eyes shifted to the right, then the left. Guards all around. The owner of the eyes let out a metallic chuckle. On Isadora, the prison planet, Warden had been in charge of all prisoners on Cell Block IV. He had ruled with an iron fist, often executing those who stood in his way. He had been summoned to Valhalla on the unfortunate day that a prisoner escape broke loose.

The old hag scribbled down something, then glanced up.

"Name?"

Silence.

She stopped, then glared at the Warden.

"Name?"

A metallic growl emanated from the soulborg, and rumbled through the entire room.

"Warden. Warden 816."

"Allegiance?"

"Utgar."

She finished writing it down, then jerked her head toward the rest of the prisoners.

"Back there, prisoner."

Solemnly, the soulborg went. In the light of the torches, only a trained eye could have seen the glint of a bronze blade...attached to a weapon concealed in the large overcoat of the Warden.

The soulborg smiled, revealing a row of silver and bronze teeth.

[Onacara]

....

[ABOMINATION]

To make this feel a bit more 'realistic', I'm sure that it would be appreciated if all the non Fan Fic comments be put into the other thread here:

http://www.heroscapers.com/community...ad.php?t=30844

[Dysole]

Click...Twitch...Click...Twitch...Click...Twitch...

Those were the thoughts of the poor unfortunate marro that was next in line. A look was sneered at him through cold eyes. Cold enough to freeze time possibly. The marro remained silent. Whether out of choice or because it's vocal chords had been ripped from it remained to be seen. One arm hung limply like a piece of meat. One eye on the other side had been smashed in what looked like a very bad accident. Its very posture was that of a creature who has lost its sense of purpose in life. The cold eyes apparently either had taken their effect. Or since this creature had been this way for a while, maybe they didn't.

"Name?" was asked in a voice of acid.

Silence answered back.

"Name?" repeated the voice this time dipping itself in even more acid.

Silence continued to respond.

"Name?" the voice repeated again this time with a sense of great indignation and its time being wasted.

The marro remained motionless as if it had suddently decided being a wax statue was the best idea for it. The kyrie were not amused.

"Name or we will simply kill you now."

The marro raised its head. Its good eye looked into the cold eyes. The bad eye simply sat there staring off in some odd direction. Whether it still functioned was unknown. The eye locked with the cold eyes and didn't flinch. The good arm lifted up. A finger separated itself. A diagonal line was drawn in the air and soon another in the opposite direction. An "X" was scrawled in the appropriate column.

"Species?" the voice stated with a tone that very bad things would happen to this marro should it continue to not answer.

It however remained silent, and getting annoyed with this, "Idiot Marro" and "Utgar" were scribbled into the Species and Allegiance columns.

"Relatives?"

The marro raised its head and shook it in a slow fashion. "None" was appropriately scribbled in.

"Why were you summoned?"

The marro shrugged a long casual shrug that seemed to take three times longer than it actually did. The appropriate answer was scrawled in. Fed up with this unresponsive creature, the marro was dismissed. It didn't move. A guard was brought over and extracted the marro from where it had decided to take up residence.

Twitch...Dead...Twitch...You Are Dead...Twitch...Death comes...Twitch...Death eats...Twitch...Hunger Eats...Twitch...Yes, Death Comes...Twitch...

The marro kept its thoughts to itself.

[Claws of Death]

The final prisoner of the group comes forth from the shadows before the fortress. He was large, standing over 6 feet tall, with a large, monstrous arm that looked far out of place; next to him, was his blade, the dreaded Zweihander, Soul Edge......... evil's true incarnation, and a symbol of raw power. Even the beings of this realm seeked its power, to conquer their opposites...... however, this would not be their day of conquest.

Suddenly, the being lashes out upon his captors, grabbing one by the head and crushing it in his grasp, before grabbing another and flinging him into the darkness, where he is devoured by nightmare's evil. He reachs for his blade, only to find it missing, for another guard had stolen it and was heading towards the castle. Nightmare followed him......

The Azure knight comes upon the front gate. The other guards see him coming with no escorts, so prepare for the worst. The man at the gate asked, "Name?"

Nightmare looks at the being, his radiant, souless eyes glaring at him.

"Name?" The being asked again.

Nightmare then speaks. His voice was like the roar of 100 angry demons fused with the screams of hundreds of tortured souls.

"Gaze upon me, mortal, and my true name shall come to you.........." Nightmare growls in reply.

The man scribbles down "Nightmare" for lack of a better term for this..... monster.

"Allegiance?"

"None....." The Azure Knight growls.

The man quickly scribbles this down.

"That way, sir," The man says meekly.

Nightmare knows he can simply kill the man then and there. However, he would play along with him, for now.......

[Bro-man]

The old Kyrie packed her quill and scroll and was about to take leave when one the guards came running into the room.

"What is it now?"

The guard quickly bowed and said, "There is one last prisoner."

She sighed. She wanted to be done with all this so she may rest her limbs yet now she can't have rest when there is work to be done.

"Send him in and be quick about it, I don't have all day."

The kyrie banged his chest armor with his fist and quickly headed out. She sat back in her seat and unrolled the paper along with her quill. The kyrie looked up and four guards were coming in, two of them were holding onto some chains with the prisoner in between. For some reason they were all uneasy with this prisoner. She paid no mind to it and looked back down at the paper work. When each kyrie stopped and the prisoner was in front she quickly called out.

"Name."

The prisoner said nothing.

Irritated from the last few prisoners she looked out to see the prisoner in the eye. But all she saw was the four guards and a small helm standing below. She looked down, the prisoner was short and about as tall as the guards elbows. He had a oragne beard that spread down and stopped at only a small point near his gut. His helm had a strange figures on the side that look to be like a wolf. She reapeted the question and the prisoner finally replied, "If you care so much then I'll tell you. My name is Olaf."

She ignored him and continued to write. She ignored the other question, she already could tell it was a dwarf. She was about to ask the last question when a small deep chuckle came from within the room. Surprisingly it was coming from the dwarf. "What are you laughing at, you hairy Mountain-Rat?" The dwarf stopped laughing and quickly looked up, with a broad grin on his face. "I like that one fellow. He gave you quite a scare that he can kill you with that quill in your hand in many different ways." The dwarf laughed again. She ignored him and said the final question, "Your allegiance?" The dwarf quickly replied, "Why it is Aquilla, and she is one of the most beautiful Kyrie in all the land, not like a old hag like you." The guards tensed and looked at the old kyrie. She had a grim look on her. "Take him out." she said in low harsh tone. The guards did as ordered, but before they could take him away, the dwarf quickly added, "What's wrong? You scared of me, you hairless Harpie!?"

"Guards!" She cried out. They were on him, but one of the guards was to close and the dwarf head butted him, the guard cried out and held onto the side of his face, another guard tried to grab the dwarfs neck but the dwarf lifted the chains that were on his hands and smashed the guard on the side of his neck and face, the guard went on the ground as well. The two other guards held his chains and the dwarf was quickly stopped. Two more guard came rushing in and saw there fellow comrades on the ground. They cried out and jumped on the dwarf. One quickly punched him in the stomach while the other held onto both of his arms. The dwarf was down on his knees. "Take him out of here and throw him in with the others!" The old kyrie cried out. The four guards dragged the dwarf into the prison. Before they entered the dwarf turned at the kyrie and spat some blood on the ground towards her. She quickly rounded up her things and headed for the nearest door. She stopped and looked at the two guards who were cluching the sides of there heads. They looked at her, concern etched on their faces. She forwned at them and quickly said in a low tone, "You are both expendable, I'll talk with you two later." She opened the door, went in and slammed the door and the whole room echoed from the loud noise. The two guards looked at each other, not knowing what their punishment may fall on them.

[Claws of Death]

CHAPTER 1


With all the prisoners within the gates of the dreadful fortress, the gates slowly being to close, the wardens and the guards walking calmly into the room. With a loud, ominous thud, the doors slam shut, locking all within the room inside.

The room was dark and ominous...... not the kind of place a regular person would want to be stuck in if they did not have to be. However, these prisoners were certainly not lucky, at least not today. Suddenly, a flash of light appears, before it quickly subsides to multiple torches being lit on the walls and in the hands of the guards and wardens. In one guard's hands is Orin, the Woodsprite, the being's arms being tied behind his back, while the guards quickly grab nightmare's arms and hold him tight in case he attacks.

The male warden speaks. "Take them away to their cells," He croaks aloud in the pin drop silent room.

The female also says, "Make sure that their cells a locked tight...... we DON'T want ANY of them to escape...."

The guards quickly grab all of the prisoners and escort them to their cell block, walknig down a dark, ominous tunnel within the already ominous fortress.......

After a few minutes of near pitch black, the prisoners are suddenly thrown violently into their cells, the doors closed quickly before being locked. The woodspitre has it the worst, being tossed in upside down and fully chained up. Nightmare simply stands in his cell, his red eyes being the only source of light past the newly lit torches.

"Well, this is simply great....." The Azure knight hisses. Nightmare grabs his cell's caged walls, and, in vain, pulls back before causing the section he was pulling on to become concave and causing Nightmare to stumble back.

"RRRRRRAAAAG!!!! What a pathetic attempt to keep me captured..... nothing can hold back true evil..... NOTHING!!!"