Ayas answers for the old man in a whispered tone, "From here we head down to the forge or the mines, depending on what they choose. Your daughter, she's your's right?" he asks Hamin, "She's attracting the wrong kind of attention. If we get a moment later where our voices won't carry, I'll tell you more..."

When an opportunity arises for a quick question Brugar asks Ayas a question about their collars.

"Them there sentinels. Do they 'ave any control over these 'ere collars to shock us, or aught like that?" he asks as quietly as he can manage.

Hamin nods, although he is fairly confident that Yetta realises exactly what she is doing.  After all, she is almost as cynical as he is ....

The old man nods as Ayas explains what happens next.

"Most like you two are for the mines," he tells Hamin nervously.  "They value strong backs above all down there.  Perhaps your daughter might be spared that, if Midnight has taken a liking to her and she'll be assigned to other duties in the workshop or laundry.  Midnight has some sway with the Sentinels.  A bad woman to cross."

"They can," he answers the Dwarf's question regarding the collars.  "They rarely are given cause, but I've seen them kill a man who was foolish enough to do so.  You don't want to die that way."

"Who?" Yetta blinks, following Midnight's nod and trying to think who over there could be called `pretty'.  "Oh, him.  He didn't seem important.  Is he?" she asks, curiously.

She looks into her bowl and sighs a little.  "I suppose meat was too much to hope for.  At least it's not gruel."  She waits for Midnight before she starts eating, but once she does, eats quickly.  She doesn't think of actually scooping the broth up with the bread, but does dip it in to soften it, and then drinks down what's left when it's gone.

Brugar doesn't look pleased at Corrin's answer, but doesn't he look surprised either.

"Reckon as that'd be why they put 'em on us then. Nought to do with thinkin' we might be mages after all," he mutters.

Hamin listens to the exchange between Brugar and Corrin, before asking "How long have you been here, Corrin?  And what sort of work do they have you doing?"

"I'm a carpenter by trade," the old man quails before Brugar's frown, and is less than comforted by the stern visage of the one-eyed warrior. "That at least spares me the mines and the forge.  I fashion spares and tools, whatever I'm told, in the workshops."

"I've been many years.  So long that I have all but forgotten my life before."

The first group of prisoners are ushered back out into the main cavern, and the other half shuffle in to have their morning meal.

One of the second group dips close to Ayas as the two pass, quickly whispering something in the Elf's ear and grinning broadly, though the smile is gone as he turns away. 

Yetta is less impressed by the broth than the Dwarf or her father as she warily continues her conversation with Midnight, in the prison mess.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:38, Mon 28 May 2018.

"Many years," Brugar echoes Corrin's words glumly. "Well, Ah reckon as Ah've got more years left in me than ye, long shanks, though Ah be not sure if'n that be a good thing or not! So, is there ever any excitement 'ere or is boredom as big a part of the punishment as the 'ard labour do be?"

"Perhaps," the old man muses, eyeing the Dwarf speculatively.  "Though it seems I've been forgotten and left to rot here ... if you are as important as you seem to be to those who rule over us, then I think your stay here will be short and your remaining breaths not much beyond that, if they are merciful, else you will as like long for boredom."

"And I do not think that they show much mercy to those who would challenge the Dark Gods."  This last little more than a whisper as Corrin looks around furtively.

Not able to think of anymore questions to ask at the moment, Hamin waits to see what comes next.

"Them as rule over us? Who be that, then? Where is this place, anyway? What be outside of 'ere? We wasn't seein' aught when they brung us in 'ere." Brugar asked the old man just as quietly.

"The dark elves and their creatures," Corrin's lips are tight, his voice low, though he seems puzzled by the Dwarf's question, having never known any different in all his years.

"I came here by ship, long ago ... this prison lies in the scoured hills somewhere south of the Saura'sira as I reckon it.  It is a long way from anywhere."

"We are not far from where I was captured, then," Ayas gives voice to his surprise, though still has the presence of mind to keep that quiet enough.

"Somewhere south of Faugond."

Brugar smiles grimly and replies just as quietly, "Aye, a long way, p'raps, but not near as far as Ah feared."

Yetta shrugs.  "He's not really my type," she decides, working on her stew.  She glances openly at Midnight's bowl, and grins.  "I'm more attracted to power, I think, which seems a bit harder to come by down here than a straight nose."

The elf risks a glance at the man who whispered to him earlier, clearly wanting to say something more, but holds his peace, his gaze flicking to Corrin, almost speculatively.

The old man catches the look, a puzzled expression stealing over his face.

"Faugond ?" Corrin whispers questioningly.  "There's naught in those barren hills worthy of anyone's attention, let alone our cruel lords.  What were you up to that they'd imprison you here ?"

The other half of the group of prisoners return from the kitchens, and further conversation is all but impossible, as, with a great rattling of chains and groaning of gears, a steel platform descends from the roof of the cavern at the top of the central metal cage, eventually coming to a stop at your level.

The greybeard that Corrin acknowledged earlier joins you, nodding grimly to Ayas and introducing himself as Karl.  At his urging, you wait with him as the lift makes two rattling trips down and back.  When it is your turn, the platform is much less crowded, though there is still a certain amount of tension in the air and you are pleased to have someone else around you who seems somewhat trustworthy.

Corrin nods towards you as he and the select others (indeed many of those gathered around Midnight) are led off to the workshops above, as the platform descends deeper, the lady herself waggling her fingers at Yetta.

While you wait, Ayas takes advantage of the noise to whisper urgently, seemingly drawing some courage from Karl's presence, happy to take the big man into his confidence as well.

"The man who spoke to me earlier - Varl is his name - told me that he and his friends will try to break out tonight. He's expecting me to go with them.. but I fear they're fools who are just going to get themselves killed and perhaps a lot of others besides!"

Brugar considers the suggestion for a long moment before shaking his head, though obviously not happy about the decision he seems to have come to.


"Can't see us goin' nowhere while we've these things round our necks. Not if'n them sent'nels can shock us with 'em at will. Wish Ah knew as 'ow to get 'em off first," he muttered in response.

"So we need to 'acquire' a chisel and a rock ...." he says quietly,  looking at the old man who works in the workshop fabricating tools and things that the guards need.

Yetta nods back to Midnight as she's drawn away.  She resists actually shaking her head as she joins the whispered debate.  "They react if you mess with them," she cautions.  "Not sure we'd survive long enough to have it hammered off."

She looks at the one on Brugar, studying it as they drop.  "Anybody remember the way back to that anti-magic room?" she asks, curiously.

"Ah don't remember aught," Brugar admits. "The poison of that spider-demon thing knocked me out cold afore we was dragged outa there an' Ah can only remember bein' dragged along the corridor where our cells are, then woke up again inside one of 'em."