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Revanoth's eyes remained coldly upon the wet puddled floor of the prison, not looking to the other three who were chained up within them. Conditions were poor, and it was a miracle that they all had survived so far without illness. It was only a matter of time. His thoughts only focused upon leaving this place... if he did not do so soon, he would surely die in here. The room was cold, a bit below room temperature, Revan was uncloathed, save for ragged torn pants. He bore many scars upon his chest and back, but these were all likely earned through torture, and likely the other prisoners had endured the same. Nothing was said for hours between the prisoners, nothing usually ever is. What spirits they once had, were now nearly broken, continually rotting in this dark place that they've made home to now for nearly two years. Revan had long chestnut brown hair that went just beyond his broad shoulders, a haggard beard now that was nearly half as long as his hair was. He had not bathed the hole time he was here, and an old corpse lay at one of the corners within the room, greyish blue and discolored... rotten to the point that there would be no identifying of who it was, save for in memory alone. The prison guards did not care to remove it, and it was likely there for months, maggot infested, as flies made home to it. Left there as a reminder of how rebellious behavior would be handled.
The man it once was, perhaps was brave in his action, but ultimately his efforts to make every guard's life a living hell costed him his life. They let him starve to death, not feeding him for weeks. The strong muscular burly middle-aged man's form transformed from stalky and stout, to anorexic in only three weeks. He was so skinny by the time he died, that he barely looked among the living, his cheeks and skin tightly vacuumed in around his bones. Now... he is nothing but a pile of stinky filfth that further plagues the prison cell. The odor of the corpse that had lied there for months, mixed with the lack of hygiene of the prisoners made the smell of the room unbearable... repulsive. Literally sickening. It was something the prisoners grew used to by now, perhaps they've even forgotten about it.
Two large iron doors unbolted with a heavy and loud clank. Two guards walked in, a torch lighting up the faces of the prisoners within the dimly lit room. Revan's eyes did not move towards them, though others would look their way. A stalky and slightly obese guard looked towards the taller thinner one after looking at Revan for a long moment.
"...Y'know... I swear e's been lookin' a' tha' floor for three years, Kosh. Maybe e's dead..." The fatter one said to the other.
The taller thinner one shook his head at Kosh and pointed to the bile filfth lying in the corner.
"If'n he was dead ye' idiot, ya' reckon he wouldn't look so... among the livin' would ya? Go on... why don't you go check, Min."
Their names, as they usually referred to each other were Kosh and Min... likely nicknames that were made amongst each other. They were the usual guards that would bring food to the prisoners... one meal a day. It usually was some sort of oatmeal looking substance, though it was maggot infested. Not a decent meal to be served within this place. The prisoners ate it anyway, if they didn't it meant they would starve to death. Food was something in this place that one couldn't be picky over, otherwise you'd end up like the man lying in the corner. Min shook his head, looking to Kosh with a widened glare.
"Oi' ye think I'm stupid?! I know what'e did in Mihgo!"
They likely were reminded every day of why Revanoth must never be unchained. His ability with magic and swordplay were unique among all, and likely if he could ever find a vessel of some sort to power his conjury, it would be the end of his imprisonment and all who stood in his way. No, the best way to handle him was to keep him there on the wall and let him rot. Until his broken spirit would give in, and the Garlean could use him as a weapon of their own... it would only be a matter of time before they would give up and put an end to him. Kosh looked over Revanoth with a cold sizing up glance.
"Oh, he's nothin' special... no better than that rottin' corpse o'er there... Just o' waste o' space who ain't gonna do nothin' but rot in this place."
Kosh walks up to Revanoth slowly before standing just two feet infront of him, the man bending forward to look Revanoth in the eyes. Revan did not look at him. His eyes remained fixed as they were before they entered.
"Ain't that righ' boyo? Ye' ain't nothin' special."
The man clears flem from the back of his throat and coughs it forward in his mouth, and launches the grimey mucus from his mouth onto Revan's face.... the grime sliding down the side of his cheek. Kosh begins to laugh hysterically and crazily, and looks back to min chuckling, "See, wha'd'I tellya?!"
Just as the man turned his back towards him, Revan stood to his feet, inching his chains as far as they would go, closing his hands just enough around Kosh's neck to pull him closer to him. With all his might, he wrapped his arms around the man's neck, and pulled him down to the floor. Min began to panick as he watched what was taking place, as his friend was starting to be strangled by Revan. He glances down the open corridor.
"Ey! We need some 'elp! He's gotta'old o' Kosh!! Guards!!"
By the time, Min looked back, Revan was resting against the cold wall, Kosh's corpse lying face first in a puddle of water at Revanoth's feet, his neck snapped and broken, his body lifeless and without breathing. Revan remained quiet, and his eyes lowered once more to the spot they rested on before. Finally he lets out a wry remark with deep undertones of his voice.
"...it never pays to be impolite, Min... lest you end up like your friend..."
Min's eyes were that of disbelief. Guards eventually stormed the room, and with clubs four or five of them began to beat Revan all at once. When they left, Revan was barely conscious, his face and body bloodied, bruised, and beaten. He slowly drifted into an unconscious state, where he did not wake up for nearly two days.
The man it once was, perhaps was brave in his action, but ultimately his efforts to make every guard's life a living hell costed him his life. They let him starve to death, not feeding him for weeks. The strong muscular burly middle-aged man's form transformed from stalky and stout, to anorexic in only three weeks. He was so skinny by the time he died, that he barely looked among the living, his cheeks and skin tightly vacuumed in around his bones. Now... he is nothing but a pile of stinky filfth that further plagues the prison cell. The odor of the corpse that had lied there for months, mixed with the lack of hygiene of the prisoners made the smell of the room unbearable... repulsive. Literally sickening. It was something the prisoners grew used to by now, perhaps they've even forgotten about it.
Two large iron doors unbolted with a heavy and loud clank. Two guards walked in, a torch lighting up the faces of the prisoners within the dimly lit room. Revan's eyes did not move towards them, though others would look their way. A stalky and slightly obese guard looked towards the taller thinner one after looking at Revan for a long moment.
"...Y'know... I swear e's been lookin' a' tha' floor for three years, Kosh. Maybe e's dead..." The fatter one said to the other.
The taller thinner one shook his head at Kosh and pointed to the bile filfth lying in the corner.
"If'n he was dead ye' idiot, ya' reckon he wouldn't look so... among the livin' would ya? Go on... why don't you go check, Min."
Their names, as they usually referred to each other were Kosh and Min... likely nicknames that were made amongst each other. They were the usual guards that would bring food to the prisoners... one meal a day. It usually was some sort of oatmeal looking substance, though it was maggot infested. Not a decent meal to be served within this place. The prisoners ate it anyway, if they didn't it meant they would starve to death. Food was something in this place that one couldn't be picky over, otherwise you'd end up like the man lying in the corner. Min shook his head, looking to Kosh with a widened glare.
"Oi' ye think I'm stupid?! I know what'e did in Mihgo!"
They likely were reminded every day of why Revanoth must never be unchained. His ability with magic and swordplay were unique among all, and likely if he could ever find a vessel of some sort to power his conjury, it would be the end of his imprisonment and all who stood in his way. No, the best way to handle him was to keep him there on the wall and let him rot. Until his broken spirit would give in, and the Garlean could use him as a weapon of their own... it would only be a matter of time before they would give up and put an end to him. Kosh looked over Revanoth with a cold sizing up glance.
"Oh, he's nothin' special... no better than that rottin' corpse o'er there... Just o' waste o' space who ain't gonna do nothin' but rot in this place."
Kosh walks up to Revanoth slowly before standing just two feet infront of him, the man bending forward to look Revanoth in the eyes. Revan did not look at him. His eyes remained fixed as they were before they entered.
"Ain't that righ' boyo? Ye' ain't nothin' special."
The man clears flem from the back of his throat and coughs it forward in his mouth, and launches the grimey mucus from his mouth onto Revan's face.... the grime sliding down the side of his cheek. Kosh begins to laugh hysterically and crazily, and looks back to min chuckling, "See, wha'd'I tellya?!"
Just as the man turned his back towards him, Revan stood to his feet, inching his chains as far as they would go, closing his hands just enough around Kosh's neck to pull him closer to him. With all his might, he wrapped his arms around the man's neck, and pulled him down to the floor. Min began to panick as he watched what was taking place, as his friend was starting to be strangled by Revan. He glances down the open corridor.
"Ey! We need some 'elp! He's gotta'old o' Kosh!! Guards!!"
By the time, Min looked back, Revan was resting against the cold wall, Kosh's corpse lying face first in a puddle of water at Revanoth's feet, his neck snapped and broken, his body lifeless and without breathing. Revan remained quiet, and his eyes lowered once more to the spot they rested on before. Finally he lets out a wry remark with deep undertones of his voice.
"...it never pays to be impolite, Min... lest you end up like your friend..."
Min's eyes were that of disbelief. Guards eventually stormed the room, and with clubs four or five of them began to beat Revan all at once. When they left, Revan was barely conscious, his face and body bloodied, bruised, and beaten. He slowly drifted into an unconscious state, where he did not wake up for nearly two days.