Robes of Stone - IC

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Time past slowly. As you sat in the small room, the shadows thrown from the tiny window slowly shifted until they covered the entire room. Every now and then outside you could hear feet stomp pass, the sound of a child crying from another cell and occasionally some talking in a foreign tounge, sounding like that from the natives of the province of Lusitania, to the far west of the empire.

Days seem to pass slowly in this manner. No food, water, clothes nor blanketting seems to have been provided. What you judge to be about early morning on the third day you hear some feet outside, and a short few, heated, words in the foreign tounge.

The door swings open and three men enter. One of them, obviously in charge of the other two, entres first. He has long, dark brown hair, knotted from years of salt water. His clothes are very fine quality, giving an impression to his possible station (or maybe just the successfulness of this ship or fleet). One thing you do notice is a scar that runs down the back of his left hand, disappearing under a sleave. The other two, obviously twins, are fairly well built for sailors. They stand behind the first mans shoulder, staring at you all in turn. Each of the three carry a rapier looking sword at their sides - the man with the scar on his right, the other two their left.

"On your feet, scum! Backs against the wall. NOW!" The man with the scar orders in a harsh voice.

 

Josan stood up languidly trying to stretch his muscles as much as possible to keep loose and subtle; hopefully ready for a chance if it came, he stood with his back to the wall, a knee bent and foot firmly on the wall. He rolled his neck gently to get the kinks out, he looked slightly down so as not to challenge the three that entered, that was what they would be looking for; and their response would probably be brutal. He thought about asking or saying something but it was more likely that these were muscle as opposed to brains and the answers would more often be a fist in those situations.

*Bide your time, Josan. Bide your time* he thought to himself, *Gather Intelligence first, then act*

 

Zarthan glanced to look at their captors and his eyes fixed at the swords hanging on the side of the two bulked men. He understood it. He had no choice but to follow their orders, for now. He got up, keeping his back against the wall and his eyes gazing out the window.

 

Ergurd's teeth clenched and his body tightened with rage as he did what was instructed. He swore to himself that very moment that on his honor he would have revenge against these who would treat him as a slave. He only needed to heed these men until he got his hand on a weapon.

 

The man with a scarred hand nodded, curtly, as you rise to your feet. He spends a moment staring at each of you in turn, looking you up and down from head to toe. Without so much as a word to you, he turns around to the man on his left and says something in a foreign tongue, who grunts and leaves the room. The remaining two follow shortly, disappearing outside, locking the door in place.

 

After only a few minutes, the door swings open again and one of the twins stands there, a large pile of rags in one hand and a old metal pot in the other. He sets the pot down on the floor, along side the rags, then turns to go.

 

Feeling like livestock that has just been appraised Ladyra sniffed indignantly and made to look through the pile that was left. She couldn't help but mutter: "Well, I doubt this qualifies as latest fashion, but beggars can't be choosers, can they?"

 

"They treat us as if we are slaves. Rags like these aren't fit to wear by a citizen of good standing. I doubt the food is much better then the clothing for that matter."

Still, as much as Ergurd hated his circumstances, he empty stomach drove him towards the food.

 

Josan looked in the pot, not really surprised to find it contained chopped up tack bread, soaking in watered down wine. The soaking made the bread edible, and chewable, the wine gave it some taste and it contained much needed liquid. Sorting through the pile, he picked out stuff that looked as if it would fit him as he turned to move away, he looked at Ergund and said

“I don’t think we’re wanted for slavery, slaves don’t normally walk around unchained, on ships they man the oars, and when they’re taken to market, they’re naked so all can see how fresh, healthy and vital they are. They aren’t treating as slaves but as prisoners, which will make it harder to escape, people don’t see slaves on the whole, but they always watch out for the prisoners. Somebody is going to a fair bit of trouble for us. Only my opinion of course and I may be wrong.”

Smiling at Ladyra he continued, “No beggars can’t, so when we can’t choose, we use” and chuckled softly to himself.

 

Shooting a crooked smile in reply, Ladyra picked up her chosen attire and dressed before
deftly braiding her hair and tying it with another rag.

Then she decided to peer over Ergurd's shoulder into the pot.

"Well, I don't know if the word food encompasses this, even in it's vaguest interpretation," she reached with her hand and knocked on the side of the pot. "But the thing's sturdy. We could christen it as our first weapon," said her more cynical part.

 

Okay, time slowly passes. There seems to be little notable activity. Is there anything you wish to do with your newly aquired weapon? Or in general?

 

Having dressed and fed himself, Josan slid down the wall again, opposite to the door and waited.

 

Ergurd beckons to those around him.

"We should devise a plan of attack for when the next guard enters. Surely those of us here could take down a guard or two, even with our bare hands. That would be enough in the terms of weapons to equip those of use the most skilled in combat before we could find where the armory is located."

 

I agree, we cannot stay here for ever. I’m tired of waiting and I’m eager to leave this rotten ship, and, once again, feel the earth under my sore feet.

 

"Well, on one hand I kinda like my head where it is thank you, but anything would be better than kicking the bucket because of boredom. And the entertaining capabilities of our captors are quite lacking." Ladyra stretched her hands, trying to get a bit of feeling back into her stiff muscles.

"But I'm not gonna be the one responsible for our potentially suicidal plan of action," she added. "No need for you all to haunt me, if I by any chance survive. Anyway, considering our assets, other than strangling them by the rags or offing them by the aforementioned bucket, I don't see any better way."

She ran her eyes over Ergurd and Zarthan and smiled: "Well, you both seem like capable men to me. You do something. I'm not against helping you out though, we'll leave this hole. One way or the other. Anyone else up for this?"

 

Ergurd speaks to Zarthan.

"We should wrestle whatever guard who enters to the ground as to neutralize the guard's advantage in his weapon. We can crush the life out of him like a wrestler from that point."

 

"We won't learn anything if you kill him, we need information, how many guards/sailors are there, what is the layout of this deck, how many decks are there, where are weapons, armour etc., are there any magic-users on-board. But, hey you want to go into a sitution blind, carry on" Josan continued sitting against the wall as he spoke.

 

Zarthan watched Josan carefully, then spoke, “The sailor is right, we must keep them alive and try to gather some information… after that I’ll gladly help you kill them all” his eyes now facing Ergurd, while his mouth shaped in what seemed to be a smile.

 

"Well, that sounds, in a very vague way, like a kind of a plan," Ladyra nodded.

She especially liked the idea due to the fact that it was hopefully obvious, that she wouldn't be doing much of said wrestling.

 

"Good now we have a plan let's get ready and take our chance"