They are moving me today… Ioder thought as he etched the fortieth or so mark on his cell wall. As his fingernail drug against the grittiness of the stone wall it snapped. Ioder instinctively brought his finger tip up to his mouth to try and comfort the sharp pain. There was no sound, no winching or suckling. It was humorous to think that these mere mortals could so effectively bind and neutralize him. He worried that his time was up and that he wouldn’t last much longer, especially once he is moved to the next cell block.
It had been about forty some odd days since Ioder and Virgil got themselves involved with the wrong kind of people. Out one day on a routine mission the two companions got caught up in the cross fire of two rebel forces. The Dour Saints had just uncovered the location of Gilgamesh’s crew and unfortunately for Ioder and Virgil, who had just made contact with their client, were taken down in the madness. Thought out the fighting Ioder and his friend were both caught and accused of being a part of the rival group. They were taken the remote Dour Garrison a massive prison constructed into the cliff side overlooking the sea separating Corone from the mainland.
It wasn’t long before the two of them had been identified as unnatural and certain precautions were taken to prevent their immediate escape.
There was a small crowd gathered in the lower slums of Radasanth. The commoners and mercs that dwell in these parts were of a mixed variety. A focus was drawn to group of street performers who were doing a myriad of things outside a busy tavern. This was a relatively well know location of underworld dealings within the city, a place where one would go looking for work. The performers were a low-key sign to the well informed that a someone inside was looking for less than refutable help.A message was snuck out, how is unclear, but nevertheless word has spread. Ioder and his companion have proclaimed their innocence and seek aid in escaping their current confines. Also a promise of a reward to anyone able to make it happen.
Inside the place seemed overflowing with activity, the mead flowed like am amber brook from barrel to tankard, and the room was littered with colorful people. As the noise of merrymaking and delight resonated all around there were a group of men sitting around a circular table in the back. Strangely they weren’t apart of the commotion, instead they were setting up for a stark adventure.
“He promises a reward to anyone able to get him out,” one of the men said unfolding a parchment and showing it to the others.
“Full of it,” another one said yanking the paper and examining it intently. “There is no way this is legitimate. Even if he is telling the truth what’s the catch?”
“You mean besides the legion of Dour Guards, the jarring location, and lack of anything tangible to even validate this claim.” A third man said.
The man who originally had the parchment quickly grabbed the page back stashing it in his coat pocket. He was a tall burly fellow who looked to be about fifty or so while as the men around him were all young whippersnappers barley out of their teenage years. They weren’t going to be any help to the man and he knew that. Politely he stood and left the men walking over to an empty table in the rear of the establishment. There he sat waiting for anyone looking to make some coin to approach him, having already addressed the bar earlier someone would take him up on his wild plan eventually.
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