Swimming on High Tide - Rogin - Samheen 27th MT

[Brytan]

Samheen 27th - Early, early Morningtide

bump, bump...


bump, bump...

Rogin was drowzy and his head felt like it had been run over by a herd of camels.

bump, bump...

Opening his eyes, awakened by this strange sound he at first could see only little. His eyes adjusted quickly to the dim light and he noticed he was in some kind of cel. It seemed to consist of four walls, made up out of the tell tale clay and stone of the Abu'Sahir way of building. There was one small window with bars in front of it and a thick, sturdy wooden door to bar anyone from leaving.

bump, bump...

As he looked around he saw there was someone else in here with him. He was holding a wooden cup and rapping it against the wall in a series of bumps, followed by silence, followed by more bumps.

bump, bump...bump...

Rogin's arm hurt, looking down he noticed a nasty cut which seemed to have been bandaged quickly. The bleeding had stopped by now, but it still hurt like something from the Nether.

[Guest]

Rogins' eyes flickered open. The strange noise was indeed like a heard of camels and every bump echoed through his brain. The light started out dim but eventually grew brighter, well, at least bright enough to see clearly.

"Hey! You mind stop bangin', there's enough banging going on in my head. I don't need anymore of that right now." He told the figure standing by the bars in a calm, not too loud voice.

He sat up slowly holding the back of his head with the arm that was bandaged. His face making all kinds of strange shapes because of the pain in his head and his arm. He looked at his arm and noticed the blood stained cloth wrapped around the wound. He tried to pry the cloth loose to see the damage but it was stuck to the dried blood. "Aahhh, damn that hurts!!" he thought to himself.

He tried to re-cap what happened that night. All he could remember was a quick drop that Raider had made and the long drop he had made directly after that. Next thing he knew he was here with this....idiot that was making noise.

Rogin sat up against the wall and remembered similar cells in the past.

"Where are we?" he asked the irritating fellow.

[Brytan]

"Sssst, Mech'Talim Beruk ha."

The man spoke in a language that didn't mean much to Rogin, but he had stopped banging the cup against the wall. Not long after though he could hear a similar banging sound come from the other side of the wall. A short series of bumps, and then nothing.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway outside.

The man put down the cup and turned to Rogin, he moved closer to him as he saw Rogin attempt to remove the bandages from his arm. "Sorry about that." The man said. "Let me take a look at your wounds. You took a nasty blow when you fell." Quickly he removed the bandages, being carefull not to hurt Rogin more. Underneath the wraps he could see his arm had a nasty cut running along the lower half of it. The man quickly wrapped a fresh bandage around it, he had obviously prepared for this occasion.

"My name is Beran, I was in the boat of the slavers you encountered a few marks ago." He paused a moment to tie off the bandages. He was adhiel, not very old. But you never could tell with the adhiel. His skin was rather pale, suggesting he had not spent much time in the desert, his hair a golden blonde colour. "You, and I, are prisoners of a slaving cartel that moves people between this island and the rest of the Seven Isles. They brought me in from Kislovan, where they bought me from a corrupt jail guard." Beran spat on the floor in malcontent. "While I was on board of their ship, they told me that this is where they store illegal slaves until the heat is off, only to ship us out again later to sell us to the highest bidder somewhere else. Sssst."

Again, footsteps could be heard outside in the corridor. Once they passed, Beran dared to speak again. "I was trying to communicate with some of the other prisoners, none of us intend to be here longer than need be, if we can help it."

[Guest]

Rogin stared at the man. He had no idea what was coming out of his mouth. It was nothing he had ever heard before. He didn't care really what he said, he was just glad he had stopped banging.

Rogin looked around the cell, subconsciously looking for a way out.
As the cell mate was looking at his wound Rogin twitched a little at the same time saying, "Yeah, well, falling is not one of my better skills."
He thanked him for changing the bandage.

"Ok Beran?! So how did you end up with a jailer and why did you let yourself get caught? And where the hell do you come from? I didn't recognize your tongue. And what were you saying to the others?"
Listening to the tale of being sold into slavery a flash of boiled blood passed through him.
"nobody's going to use me as his slave! I'll rip out his throat and puke down the hole and then take his shit and shove it into his eyes before I let that happen." Rogin said rebelliously.

He listened to what Beran was saying about escaping and agreed to that notion.
"How many souls are in here?" he asked.
Rogin tried to think of a plan but his head hurt too much right now. He decide to rest just a little longer before he would figure out a plan. "I can't think straight right now. Keep talking to the others and find out how many there are. Wake me up in a while and I'll try to conjure up a plan of escape." With these words Rogin layed back down on his good arm and dozed off hoping to awaken some what later with a clear mind.

[Anahid]

From Rogin’s vantage point on the floor of the darkened cell, few details would be apparent to him, save that the walls seemed sturdy, the floor solid, the door strong, and the window too small for a human to squeeze through and well above head height. There was no window sill, just an unevenness in the clay where perhaps prisoners past attempted to dig out the iron bars with their hands. From where Rogin lay, the bars at least appeared as immovable as ever.

The human asked his questions and the adhiel listened tensely, his gaze unwaveringly on the door. Flickers passed before Beran began to answer Rogin. The adhiel was very still but in a deliberate way. He crouched at Rogin's side so that, even in the dim light, the muscles along his jaw line could be seen clenching and unclenching as he considered how and which of his cellmate's questions to answer.

Finally, a wary response: "I was in jail mistakenly." He neglected to mention on what cause or by whose mistake, his own or someone else's. "On Kislovan. A place called Sirionn. It was a mistake." Silence lapsed again for a flicker before the blond adhiel continued, "As for the others, we were counting heads, I guess you would say. There are some here who were also on the ship." He hissed, "But we will not be here long!"

Rogin broke in, "Nobody's going to use me as his slave! I'll rip out his throat and puke down the hole and then take his shit and shove it into his eyes before I let that happen." .

"I hope, friend, that you find your opportunity... And that I am not around when you do," the adhiel replied with a wry smile. Much of the tension seemed to ease from his stance, and he scooted away, settling against the wall two paces or so from his human cellmate.

Beran had no further answers to offer and so remained silent while the human fell back into sleep. There was no more tapping to interrupt Rogin’s rest; there is a limit to what can be said with a wooden cup and a stone wall.


When Rogin next awoke an undeterminable time later, the pain in his head had dulled to a constant horrible ache at the back of his skull and behind his eyes. His arm too felt marginally better, although the pain would seem nearly unbearable if the arm was used.

The cell was brighter; the true morning had arrived while Rogin slept, but it was obvious now that the cell’s sole window was heavily in shadow. The full strength of the sun would never penetrate the dingy little hole in the ground.

Beran crouched in the small patch of weak light. Rogin could see now that the adhiel’s tunic and leggings were dung-colored, ill-made and ill-fitting - as though they had been made for someone else entirely. An old bruise brightened his left cheekbone, and his lips were cracked from dehydration. He’d not yet noticed that Rogin was awake. Instead, his eyes followed the sounds of heavy footsteps and something being dragged just on the other side of the door.

[Guest]

Rogin awoke, the sharp pain in his head had gone only to be replaced by another sort of pain but some what more barrable then the last. His arm also seemed to have healed a bit, that is until he tried to lift it. The pain shot through it like a snake bite. He ground his teeth as the pain succumbed him but he did not make a sound. He lowered his arm slowly breathing out silently.

Rogin saw the strange figure of a, uh, man sitting in the light bundled up. He noticed that he also had his share of misshapes. Rogin sat up against the wall rubbing his arm. This strange fellow, he thought, did not look very clean.

Rogin also noticed the movement on the other side of the door wondering what was going on. He slowly got up from the floor, using his good arm for support and quietly walked over to the cell door. There he tried to look through the small opening to see if he could get a glimpse of the activity taking place. He looked at the stranger sharing his cell for a moment, then looked out side again. He knew that he was unable to fight his way out in his present condition. He decided to strike up a conversation with his cell-mate to see if he had gathered any new information regarding their present status.
"So little man, what has come to your ears that may be of use to us?" he asked politely.

[Anahid]

With his eye pressed against the crack in the door, Rogin would be able to just make out first a short, wiry man dressed not in the local fashion, but in a muslin shirt and canvas breeches. The dragging sound was caused by a net sack he was pulling. Following behind, and walking more laboriously due to the large pot he was lugging, came a huge brute of a man. He was dressed similarly to the first, minus the shirt. They passed beyond Rogin's limited viewpoint and continued down the hallway.

Beran's eyebrows twitched at being called a little man, but he otherwise did not react, seemingly understanding that Rogin was attempting to be polite. He did, however, ignore the human's question for the time being and changed the subject. His tone too was exceedingly polite. "Are you thirsty? There's water, there." He pointed to a round jug in the corner about two hands deep and equally wide. Inside was indeed water, fresh and clean, if perhaps a little on the warm side.

Meanwhile, there were two muffled thuds from elsewhere in the building followed by a grinding creak.

[Guest]

This was not one of the most comfortable cells Rogin had been in. Most of the other cells had at least a bared window to look through in the door. But he could make out the two figures walking in the hall. Rogin wondered what the sack was filled with. Food maybe? he was starting to get a little hungry.

Rogin saw that one of the men would be relatively easy to take down, if it weren't for his arm being injured. The other man, on the other hand, would be a handful and he would have to have help with him. But that was not the issue at this point in time. At the moment he was unable to do anything now. The door that held him captive was quite secure even for a well trained warrior.

Rogin looked at the little man after he addressed him and then looked at the water. He worked his way to the water jug, took a bowl and stared at it for a second. Rogin looked back at the fellow and walked towards him. "Here my fellow captive, you look like you need it more than I." he said with a compassionate smile and handed him the bowl.

[Brytan]

Beran looked at Rogin for a moment as he offered him the bowl of water. His expression didn't betray a lot of emotion. He took the bowl from Rogin and nodded politely and took a few drinks from the water before placing it back on the floor between them.

After that he got up. He had heard the sound aswell coming from down the hall. Footsteps sounded beyond the door, moving away from their cell. Beran moved to the door, peaking through the crack and listening intently to gather what was going on. Beyond the door, a few moments later, another thud sounded, followed by a dulled...

bump, bump...bump

Beran picked up his wooden cup and answered the bumps with a few of his own. Soon after they heard a key moving in the lock.

[Brytan]

Thread closed due to inactivity on the player's side. Will be archived by may 26th. Should you wish to continue the thread Rogin, send me a PM.