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 Posted: Fri May 21, 2010 10:24 pm
The first noose-marked cell door opened with the same key that had opened Charonite's, and her nose was hit with the dank smell of old death -- this cell once had an occupant, who was now something approximating a wet and pungent mummy curled up in the far corner of their cell. Her cell, by the looks of it: the corpse was dressed in the tattered finery of what had been a medieval bliaut-style dress, soiled by rot and grime and other things. It was torn and ripped in places.
Said her cell wall, in neater handwriting: here will die Elaine of Astolat, who only wished to see her son. I wonder if there are similar hells for all inconvenient people.
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Posted: Fri May 21, 2010 10:31 pm
The torch flared over Nemesis' head as Charonite joined her, looming behind her again. His gaze went to the mummy, but then to the message in the cell wall; he was already moving away and towards the cell marked with the next noose pictogram.
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Posted: Fri May 21, 2010 10:38 pm
Her hand moved to cover her nose and mouth, unable to fight off a loud groan of dismay as she peered into the cell. "Charonite, this one has a corpse." It was clear that she was asking him to investigate, because she and dead bodies were never going to become the best of friends. Not entirely on cue - he must have been on his way already, she felt his presence behind him. There was something majorly discomforting about having the General-King standing right behind you, especially when you were on the opposing side.
She was more than relieved that he practically dismissed the cell - no way did she want to linger there. Nemesis followed after him, trying the keys in the next cell with a noose symbol. "I hate this place, hate, hate, hate it..." she was grumbling to herself again.
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Posted: Fri May 21, 2010 10:39 pm
The key fit the lock here too, and this cell held no occupant: however, it was scrawled all over with writing. Another hand.
This is ludicrous.
This is ridiculous.
Why am I writing things, no one is going to read them.
Then, a painstaking, tallymark-by-tallymark, marking of days, ending in --
YOU CAN'T EVEN SEE THE SUN THIS FAR UNDER GLASTONBURY WHAT AM I WRITING
I cannot take this.
I cannot take this.
To hell with the wizard
I
WILL
not
take
this.
And, on the door itself, on the inside:
Some other lifetime, you b*****d.
Aside from that, the cell was empty, and curiously clean.
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Posted: Fri May 21, 2010 10:46 pm
Charonite looked around the cell. Nemesis saw him retreat backwards and, for just one moment, press the back of his gloved hand up against the temples as though he had a headache -- or as though he were still thinking very hard. They were used to the smell of corpses by now. He'd just looked at the dead woman and looked away as though it didn't matter.
"Last one, Nemesis," he said. "These keys only work on the ******** noose doors."
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Posted: Fri May 21, 2010 10:50 pm
There wasn't even a 'please' involved in his request, but she listened to him anyways. She was still battling with the idea that he was the General-King, and while she wanted to be a little snarky with him, it probably was not the best idea. "The one with the axe sounds more effective," she said as she reached the next cell he had directed her towards. She tested the keys again, glancing over her shoulder and to Charonite again. Nemesis wanted to forget who he was, but it was still... so very difficult.
"Maybe we'll get lucky and it'll have a literal axe in it. Then you can chop the ******** door into bits and pieces." He would do it, because he looked like he had muscles. Nemesis did not.
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Posted: Fri May 21, 2010 11:04 pm
The last of the noose doors opened to the keys and the smell of death hit her nose, along with another, newer corpse, this one also in similar finery to unfortunate Elaine, though male and, by the looks of it, once rather portly. Much of the portliness had atrophied now. It was better not to look at him.
On the wall: I am convinced that none of us here are traitors as they say, but words have changed meaning now that he speaks them.
Warin means to escape, but I am fairly certain they have boarded and bricked and masoned us in here. I wonder if even our jailers are here.
Now I am certain I will try to eat myself if the hunger continues. I bang on my door but I hear no answer. I wonder if I am the last one left. - a most malfortunate THEOBALD, who never had a gift for lying
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Posted: Fri May 21, 2010 11:12 pm
There was a sharp pebble on the ground. Charonite picked it up.
"Stay here," he ordered her, and softened this with a terse "Please." Then he left her with the corpse and disappeared back into the corridor, and he was walking towards the wooden door with a last "Stay," like she was some kind of dog who would obediently heel at his command. But it seemed urgent.
Once he was at the door, he looked at the pebble and looked at the wood, and after a moment's undignified hesitation made an experimental scratch with it on the hard wood of the door.
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Posted: Fri May 21, 2010 11:18 pm
Her lips parted as if to argue with him, but the added 'please' was enough to make them close again. She did, however, step back away from the cell, looking away to the side because she could hardly stand the sight of the corpse, or the stench. Charonite may very well be used to it, but it still made her stomach churn. Giving herself something new to focus on, she kept her gaze on Charonite. Why did she... have to stay put if all he was doing was doodling on the door?
"What are you doing?" she finally asked, and while she was tempted to come up to his side to witness the experiement, she stayed put like he had told her to. God, even Pegasus couldn't get her to listen like Charonite did.
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Posted: Sat May 22, 2010 10:30 am
The scratch stayed there for a moment, and it seemed like Charonite's effort would be futile. Then, it formed itself into another shape on the door's surface.
?
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Posted: Sat May 22, 2010 4:07 pm
Charonite didn't answer at first. He was hunched over the door, considering, staring at the question mark as he weighed up the sharp pebble in his hand. No movement he made was impulsive, which meant no movement he made was very quick, which was irritating if you were an onlooker.
"Writing," he said.
After a painstaking moment he drew a very crude noose.
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Posted: Sat May 22, 2010 4:14 pm
And as he watched, the noose broke into separate pieces and joined with pieces of the question mark to form, in tidy script:
Pardon?
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Posted: Sat May 22, 2010 4:22 pm
Well, that put paid to that.
After another long few moments, Charonite's short, angular printing met underneath the words that the door had provided for him:
LET US OUT. WE ARENT PRISONERS. (Although he had not hesitated over the correct spelling of 'prisoners', he had been loose and free with apostrophes.)
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Posted: Sat May 22, 2010 4:27 pm
His letters shook apart in turn, and joined the general pool of scratch-"ink."
Evidence would seem to indicate otherwise. Stop shouting.
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Posted: Sat May 22, 2010 5:13 pm
The order to 'stay' was losing its effectiveness the longer Charonite stayed hunched over, scrawling on the door. Nemesis very well wanted to know what he was writing, and if something was happening. Something had to be happening for him to be taking so damned long over there. With her patience wearing thin, she gave in to the impulse to see what the hell was going on. She joined Charonite at the wooden door, eyebrows arching high as she noticed the writing (it wasn't there before, was it?).
"Dude," she said, "I think the door's smarter than you." Nemesis hovered close, thinking that Charonite's assumption that this place was magic was very true. "What did you tell... it?" She had only came in time to see the door's latest response.
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