Rain fell hard over the Midgate Fort, leeching into the gold-hued Aressan stone and making the sentries on the outer walls shiver in their uniforms.

The blue and silver griffon flag had become limp and listless in the driving storm, but it had in no way dampened the activity of the...somewhat unwelcome foreigners within the fort.

Soldiers jogged about beneath the roof overhangs of the large courtyard, and from time to time a dark-cloaked inquisition staffer might be glimpsed flitting about between the buildings.

At the gates a small group of soldiers stood, ones holding a lantern aloft and peering into the rain.
Captain Taron, head of the garrison, blew onto his number hands and watched as three black horses cantered up in the direction of the gate.
Two days since Inquisitor Arvis had been laid in the ground a little outside the walls and one since the boys had had to crack some heads when they found the local peasantry desecrating the gravesite. Arvis had been a cruel and vitriolic officer. Consumed with a vehement hatred for Aressans, Taron could not help but imagine that that grave was disturbed enough by him turning in it as being interred in the soil of this Kingdom, without the locals adding their own interference.

The Empire was sending a new officer to take charge of Midgate. He was surprised not to see anyone promoted...but had learned it best not to ask too many questions where the dark-coats were concerned. They were a law unto themselves. He'd rather have as little to do with them as possible, if he were honest...but orders were orders.

A flash of silver through the rain. The griffin emblem. These were the people he'd been expecting... though admittedly the individual who rode up and slipped down off of the horse with practised ease, surprised him a little. Flanked by two lower-ranking guards in black, the one who appeared to lead the group, and who wore the Inquisitor colours, was a woman, and young one at that. Her hood was, as yet drawn up, and scarf pulled over her face... though no-one would dare wear a silver-lined coat and a griffin emblem in Midgate without having the authority to.

"Inquisitor Kovera?" he asked.

The woman gave a short nod.
"Captain Taron, I assume. "

"Yes my lady, I've been instructed to meet you on arrival, ensure you're provided with anythin' you need, and to show you the lay of the fort. If you'd like to rest after your journey I'd course be happy to inform-"

A slender hand, wrapped in a black calfskin glove was lifted to cut him off.
"That won't be necessary. I wish to see the fort as soon as possible."
She then turned and waved off her accompaniment, who led the horses through the gate to be stabled.

If there was any youthful hesitance, she'd given no indication of it, and Captain Taron was...he supposed he should have been impressed, but the correct word was...disturbed. Slightly disturbed. Arvis had been a nasty old git, but was most certainly quite human in his actions. You could easily work out how to work round him. This one was hard to get a read on.

"Right-o. We'll cover the prison first of all seein' as you got your boots dirty already.."

Deep within Midgate’s Fort in the Dining Hall a small crowd had gathered. For many of the Yulian soldiers this was just another day as part of their daily routine. But for some time now the faces had gathered in the dining hall, every morning for one particular reason.
War Stories

Considering the cold weather outside there wasn’t much need to be in the outdoors unless of course you were one of the poor fools who had to sit out in the rain. Still most story telling settings like this wouldn’t be special unless of course, the crowd had a special guest. At the center of attention sat one of Yulian’s most decorated knights, Sir Lucius Cassel. Even in fine leather the man still looked every bit like the glorified war hero. Lucius sat tall, his shoulders broad and his face shaven and most important of all, he had a certain charisma that at least for the most part, other soldiers wanted to be around him.

“You know Sir Lucius. It’s going to be a shame when you leave. I know you intend to ride for the capital soon but your visit here has been appreciated” Lucius turned to look at the young lad who spoke. He always had time to share some stories, it helped pass the time especially when he was in a rather boring situation such as this. Considering this was a relatively time of peace, there was little need for individuals like him to be constantly on the move. With no battles to fight, Lucius felt it would be a shame if he never got to visit the famed Midgate prison. Fortunately for him, he had nothing but time.

”I’m just happy that I’ve had such a warm reception. Always good to be surrounded by my good countrymen” Lucius replied as the men around him cheered as they lightly tapped their mugs against the wooden table in approval. “So just one more story Sir Cassel, maybe about one of those other Wolf Knights, I’m sure you have another.” Ah yes, another story request. Lucius chuckled “Oh right... let me see.” Lucius replied taking several moments to gather his thoughts. “Sorry lads if I’m taking long. Once you kill one Aressan knight, they all start to look the same. And when they start swinging whatever they get their hands on with their ridiculous helmets you almost stop and think, this is it? These are the famed Wolf Knights?” The men around Lucius laughed a bit uneasily. It was easy to be around someone like Lucius… if they could stand his bravado. The young knight may have had good intentions making jokes about the Aressan but it was subtle reminder to the men gathered that not all of them were talented with a blade. .. or even talented enough to casually brag about killing Wolf Knights in single combat as if it was just another day on the job.

“Anyways…“ Finally Lucius had a story “I forgot the poor bastards name but there was this one battle. I believe it was close to their capital but we had broken through several defensive settlements and managed to find this beaten down army, caught out in the open during a heavy fog. It seemed simple enough so we had our infantry engage their lines to try and hold them in place. Our shield wall infantry soaked it all in, stones, arrows. spears… you name it, they couldn’t break the lines. The idea was simple, we would pin their army in place while our mages attacked safely from the rear in standard Yulian army doctrine. Now in previous battles, Aressan knights used to counter this by riding around our lines and hit us from the rear but we anticipated this” Lucius paused his story and took a glance around the room, all the men gathered had their eyes on him, curious on the story’s conclusion.

“When the Wolf Knights charged out from their lines seeking to hit the mages we had men break off from the initial main lines to support the flanks. All of a sudden they start panicking because they are starting to get picked off and their organized charge just fell to shit” Lucius again chuckled as his eyes focused on the floor his once light tone now more serious in nature as it felt like Lucius was seemingly reliving the whole situation. “That’s when we appeared out of the fog. We watched them time and time again try to outflank us but this time we were ready. I led a heavy cavalry group, some 500 men. While our infantry held the enemy in place we managed to sneak our cavalry behind them. They were so focused on our mages they kept their eyes forward. It took some time but when we managed to maneuver behind them… it was over. We charged straight at them, horns blaring, you should have seen the looks on their faces. Their lines broke almost immediately and it was utter chaos as we picked them off with ease.” Lucius looked up, the men were still focused on him causing him to smirk as he neared the conclusion. “Then there was one of them Wolf Knights. The battle had gone so chaotic I could see he was barely able to stop his horse from galloping in a circle, poor lad almost got thrown off. But then he saw me and tugged on the reigns and pointed his sword at me and shouted something but I couldn’t hear him, not when his fellow men were dying all around him”. The story at least at the point had lightened up a bit. The men gathered chuckled at the line.
“So of course I raise my sword and point right back at him and charged. And now here we are both on horseback riding fast at one another when all of a sudden just as we are about seconds from contact a damn fireball hits the guy right on the side, throwing him of his horse. And to be honest with you, I was rather disappointed. The battle is just about won at this point so I dismount and walk over to the guy who’s struggling to stand. I’m thinking should I even kill him, the guy can barely fight back…”

Suddenly the doors into the dining hall sprang open rather excitedly. “Forgive me… Sir Cassel, I uhh…” The young teenage messenger fumbled with his words, surprised on how quickly the group of men turned to look at him “Out with it boy” Lucius replied, not exactly fond of being interrupted. “Forgive me, it’s just… the new Inquisitor as arrived. I figured you would want to meet them.”

“Already?” Lucius replied. He was expecting this but perhaps not this soon… maybe he really had stayed at this fort for too long. “I suppose I’ll make my greetings. Good lads, a different time hmm? We should at least look a little productive now that we are under new leadership” Lucius said in a rather casual tone trying to calm the minds of the men around him. After all, they were the ones who were going to be stuck with the new Inquisitor. While Lucius didn’t particularly hate the Inquisitors, he always had a certain disdain for the way they did their duties. On the battlefield it was easy but the Inquisitors had ways to serve the King and it was rarely ever clean. As the small group broke apart and go their separate ways Lucius made his way towards the courtyard. As he felt the cold, wet air the knight blew into his hands to warm them, not expecting such a change in temperature as he eyed the newly arrived inquisitor.

Ayame had crouched in the pungent stew of the sewer system, waiting in the Kingdom of Rodents for the next prisoners wagon. Something was to be said about the single place within this sprawling city that even the homeless dared not go. The reason for this were simple. The rats that lived beneath had once been contented on the garbage that flowed through. However the underworld, with their penchant for disposing of bodies, along with the victims of poverty and disease, had changed the sewer rats palate. They had formed a fondness for the taste of human flesh. Ayame understood this, and had come prepared. Food was offered as a stipend to their King and his court. Two bodies lay beneath where he laid in wait, their wounds were consistent with blunt force trauma. Perhaps they had been victims or the inquisition, or a hungry man with a club. Either way, their death served to give him life.

His humble offer had awoken the benevolence of the Rat King, who dined on the flesh of the death with his subjects, and the remainder of his time among them was spent without incident. The wagon he had been waiting for ground to it's scheduled stop above him, groaning as it's old wood settled down to rest as the fighting men above gathered unfortunate souls in the dreary garb for their journey to the Yulian dungeons. For now, the only contrast between he and they was the desire in his heart to see the inside of the Cursed Kingdom, the sanguine robe familiar to him with it's thin fabrics and intricate designs, was stowed in a travel pack, leaving him in naught but his grey bandage to stave off the elements.

His hands, covered by this hardy fabric, grasped the railing of one such wagon that strayed close enough to the Grand Gutter of the Rat Kingdom and shimmied up the wall. Slowly, his arms extended until his body hovered over the ground in a straight line. Slowler still was his rotation, achieved by alternating the position of his hands, one cupping under while the other grasped over. In moments his body had turned completely, and he pulled himself beneath of the wagon.

The countryside that lined either side of the dirt road had long given itself over to the degradation. It's trees arced up in an accusatory fashion, seeming to curse the sky and its inhabitants with every branch and twig it could muster, the grass beneath had wilted to nothingness, and with no nutrition in the soil, the ground had become slush that threatened to suck a plated boot into its belly for eternity. "Woe to any wagon that loses it's way on this road." The voice was laden with jovial arrogance, the tone of a man who believed in his own abilities enough to never put himself in the category he spoke on. "Fear they'll ne'er get it out. Folk inside will be left to rot. /I/ ain't gonna be fishing n'e of the ne'er-do-wells out of that slop."

"Lest the Yulia's see fit to jab me till I do, aye?" Roaring laughter, followed by a polite chuckle from the guard sat beside him. Ayame was as oblivious to their words as he was to the dead countryside. The turning of the wheels made it hard for him to hear aught else, and the remainder of his attention was focused on ensuring his grasp remained firm. The slightest error would see him cast to the ground below, and crushed beneath iron spokes.

Time passed, and Ayame's aching muscles were rewarded by the final halt of the wagon. He felt it rise and all as it's mute passengers shuffled outward and in to the keep. Even the man who had responded to the desolate land around their travel with his boisterous nature and fallen into an uneasy silence. The Swordsmen could feel the pressure around him, squeezing the stone and it's denizens, prematurely aging both in a haze of pain and depression until cracks had formed on the walls and resentment in the hearts of the living.

When the second to last passenger disembarked, the wagon left, heading towards the warehouse for fitting and repair, while the horses were taken to be nourished. The last passenger lowered himself to the floor, and rolled from beneath his deliverance before the assorted feet, clad in their heavy workmen's boots, worn from use, stomped to where he had been hiding.

Tired eyes tended to focus on the task at hand, rather then wander like the relaxed and the bored. No one care to look to the back wall where Ayame knelt, hastily wrapping himself in a brown cloak, and throwing a saddlebag full of tools over he shoulder.

No guard looked twice at the unassuming man who filtered through the throngs of human gloom, shackled to one another in the chains of slaves. Not even the downtrodden themselves noticed the look of sadness that crossed his features when he stole a glance in their direction.

Their were many faces, most of them held the woe of the walls, and their circumstance. Others retained their pride, their arrogance. They would notice him, surely. Much like the Rat King and his legion of knights, he'd be a stranger in their midst, and one with no offering. Like the rats, without one, they might try to eat him alive.

Or perhaps not. Even in the word of circumstances benevolence existed.

His musings followed him into the corridors of the fort.

The colours of the blue and silver Griffon that hang from the fort within Midgate had a rather disturbing look to it, flabbering about. Seemed like it wanted to break free from its chains with the aid of the strong wind that had taken host upon the town, but the chains would have none of it. It kept on "flabbering" about. "Flabbering." The man with a pipe outside an inn within Midgate began thinking upon the word. "Flabbering." He couldn't really set the word on how the Yulian flag was acting. Crazy one could say, but nay. "Flabbering" sounded like a better word for it's current state. He shook his head at the current thoughts that hurried about within his head, this wasn't the time nor place for such distracting thoughts. Quick as it came, the thought was pushed away as the man, Luthon, made his way within the tavern. The building hosted various folks, from farmers to merchants, to plebs to soldiers of the Griffon. A familiar fellow waved at Luthon from across the inn, gesturing him to come with some beverages. If the man had been a simple farmer or a soldier, he would have just ignored the notion. But alas, it was one of his companions.

Soon as there was two pints of ale in the contents of his hands, he made way for the table with the known folks. Rest was unknowns, which was good for their case and hides. A satisfied grunt escapes his companion as Luthon sits down at the table, clearly content with the ale.

"I know you're big on the whole Sommersweet wine, man, but nothing beats a proper ale in the late evening. Away from the missus and the kids, harh. Reminds me of the good ol' days."

The words poured out of the companion quickly as he had managed to chug one fourth of the ale, clearly content.

"Well, I reckon there are loads of things that reminds you of the 'good ol days'. I don't think a 'missus' and the 'kids' are one of the said things."

A grin is displayed from the companion's face as Luthon replies.

"Harh, you reckon correctly chap. Sure, I've fathered some bastards, never sired one though. Reckon their mothers flaying me should I try it. Harh."

The last words of the companion before ale consumes the whole portions of his mouth. Luthon sipped from his ale, not really enjoying it but made him look more at place within the inn. He offered the insides of the inn a scan as he sipped, noticing anything worth noticing. A table or two filled with Yulian runts with swords, the rest was occupied by patrons he imagined. Old men, too old to die in the war, yet too young to die from natural causes. By the bar counter, there was a little host of four men, he noticed. Not patrons or Yulians. But merchants, he reckoned, by the amount of coin-purses hanging from their belts. His own coin purse was feeling a tad light, but alas, he had more. There would always be more coin for a man with kinship to the throne. Rightful throne to Aressa, he corrected within his mind. A distaste glance at the Yulian men was shot. Words begin to pour out from his companion once more.

"Well, I've got news by the by. Our boys have set up camp in some woods half an hour away from here, won't be detected. Or well, might have been detected if I was there with ale in my blood, harh. Nonetheless, got a boy in the outskirts of the town that are ready for departure to our camp should there be need for it."

A rather stretched moment was between the words and the answer.

"Grand. We shan't be here for long, we've a bitch to impregnate."

A devious grin appears on the face of his companion as he chugs down the last remains of his ale. The rather harsh words used for a Knight of the Wolf Order was a code word, actually. It meant that infiltrating the prison would soon occur.

Fort Midgate was thought to be impenetrable and the prison within even more so. The fortifications and constant guard were some of the best meant to prevent anything from getting in that shouldn't and anything from getting out that needed to stay. For Fer'tial however this was just another place ripe with heads worth quite a bit of coin. She had watched the guards on the walls carefully from below, memorizing there patterns, looking for an opening. After a few days of watching she noticed that at the same time every day near noon the guards would switch shifts, this was her opportunity.

Fer'tial waited patiently for noon to role around and as soon as the guards turned there back to switch shifts she scaled the brick of the wall. Once at the top she stuck to the shadows as she made her way past the guards and down the stairs inside the fort. Once inside she tried not to stand out and look like she belonged making her way towards the prison. She noticed the guards at the entrance and the fact she needed to rid herself of them quickly if she were to get to the high profile targets. She made her way to the guards fake tears in her eyes with her hood down.

"H-Help me, they stole all of my belongings and tried to take me!" She was crying loudly hiding her true intentions behind a nearly flawless act. "P-please aren't you guards here to capture any criminals. There was a girl with them who tried to cut me down with her sword, I was lucky to get away!" She new if they heard the strict codes being broken they'd be enticed by the thought of the credit they'd get for capturing such a person. She pointed off down the alley to signal that's where they were.

The guards seemed to not care for what she said until the mention of a woman wielding a sword. "Such crimes shall not go unpunished, you stay here little girl we'll bring those scoundrels to justice." They then held up their Spears running down the alley after the lies she'd told them.

Once they were gone Fer'tial giggled softly to herself picking the lock for the entrance to the prison within a matter of seconds. "Haha, men are such suckers for a crying girl. All too easy, now time for me to secure some decent coin." Once the lock clicked open she slipped inside the prison closing and locking the door back behind her making her way in the shadows down towards the lower floor where the most high profile of criminals we're being held.

Battlemage Second-Class Adella Darr was not having a very pleasant morning.

Being informed that one of the usual patrol had been taken ill with a fever and that prison duty had passed on to you was never a good way to be awoken, especially if you had had the late watch the night before.

That reason saw the Yulian in a less than chipper mood as she stepped out of the driving rain and descended the steps to the dungeons.

Small, plain-looking, coat and mantle indicating a second-class magus. The kind trained for combat. She stood up to her full (somewhat unimpressive) height and carried herself in a manner that implied she felt above waiting round in this grim place.

Mage Adella adjusted her mantle, the silver feathers glittering in the guttering torchlight. The dungeons were inevitably disgusting and she was never exactly keen on venturing down there unless expressly ordered, however needs must. You had to sometimes demean yourself a little in order to reach new heights.

This, she decided, would definitely be the year she achieved her promotion to first class. And if it involved being the watchdog to the filthy degenerates of Midgate prison, then so be it.

The dungeons were extensive. Shortly after the end of the wall the Yulians had shipped a large consignment of Pradian prisoners to extend the old store-rooms of the fort out underneath the town. It was easy to get lost if you did not know your way around. Fortunately, Adella did. The armed guard at the entrance saluted, an she returned the gesture, before stepping into the dungeons proper.

The air was cold, and damp. For some cells, gratings ran across their edging with glimpses of the yard above. This gave their unwilling residents view of the sky, though also meant that the storm was currently draining into their quarters in full force, leaving them stnding or sitting in pools of water.

Her particular area of expertise were not these places though.

The prison was not sparsely populated, even aside from the prisoners. Soldiers patrolled from time to time. Jailers made their rounds. From time to time staff from the Inqusition could be glimpsed in their black uniforms, flittering about like shadows, their presence causing many of the wretches inhabiting the place to shrink away. There was no lack of understanding of the fear the Yulian Inquisition brought with them, and what terrible things lurked in their domain, behind locked doors.

Adella wasn't naive enough not to know what they did.

It was for the greater good though, the young woman told herself.
Sometimes you had to scorch the brush to grow something anew.
It was not an easy task, nor a pretty one, but it was necessary.

The role of mages such as herself was a very particular one. At the end of the hallway, down a second flight of steps, the furthest away from light and weather, was the part of the prison reserved for the magical heretics. Degenerates who had still received the gift of magic were one of the most dangerous things they'd encountered, and needed to be dealt with with a certain level of caution. The place still had its guards, but it also required a mage in place at all times.

Whilst most prisoners were sufficiently debilitated by the potions added to their water to be too much of a threat, there was always chance that one might attempt to escape. That was where mages came in.

Adella strode up to where the aster on the previous shift was stood. Upon catching sight of her replacement, the woman gave a brisk nod and left without a word. From there Mage Darr, stood, and for a moment, closed her eyes in concentration. When she opened them again, the once brown irises were glowing a luminous blue.

Magesight was a secret weapon to dealing with the treacherous prisoners. Like a viper sensed heat, so one of their class could sense the tiniest hint of magical energy. One slight sign of a casting and she would know it.

With that, Mage Darr started to walk. Better to get a look at these wretches early to know what she'd be up against.

The damp stones of the ceiling didn't look very interesting. Sighing, the young mage tried hard not to think in her feet, but the rattling of the shackles, the damp ambience in the cell and the moans of her fellow prisoners made it seem like a lost battle. In this place so full of sadness and sorrow, she would meet her end. Liliwen, the Sparrow. Proud daughter of the Serpentines. She eyed the remains of her food, as a little rodent had scurried to pillage what was left of the meal.

Was that some kind of analogy of the state of the country? A little rat, growing fat in the spoils of a person sentenced to death. She couldn't know. Politics was a world for more savvy and elderly people. All she cared was about the weeps and screams. Many people had shut their hearts and couldn't feel the pulse of the land anymore. But she could. And it was an horrible wail, like that of a deathly wounded animal. Her stomach turned as she eyed at her pitiful rags. She had not taken a wash in a while, and there was little to relief her needs inside the cell. Besides, they had poisoned her with the water so she couldn't use her magic.

"Why." She said rethorically, finally caving in to the dread. "Why cannot any of you hear her screams?" She blurted out in a loud voice as her hands grasped her head. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. She too, had tried to become numb. But it was impossible. She eyed her surroundings, noticing a new unimposing female mage doing the runs. She probably had heard that.

"My apologies." She said. "My mental state is not the best." She added in a quiet voice. No, the woman probably didn't have any fault in all of this. Her family had always been targeted. Only one person was to blame. That boy, who betrayed the one who he said he had loved, all to fall in favour with the current Lords of the City. The traitor.

She wondered... would have been on that side of the cells, had their roles been reversed?
@VitoftheVoid

In the depths of the Midgate Prison, while others screamed in pain or sobbed in their sorrow, one lone mage sat in his cell meditating. He could not cast any spells of course, but he could at least keep his connection to the mystical forces of the world and even retain his sanity. This was by no means an easy feat, however. He not only had to ignore the pains of hunger and thirst that ravaged him, but the previously mentioned screams and cries as well. Some would call this attempt to maintain his power futile but he persisted for one reason. Should the chance of freedom ever present itself, he would be ready.

Day in and day out he did his best to drown out the sounds of agony around him, and while he was successful most days, today his concentration was broken by a cry from the cell across from his. A cry asking why “They could not hear any of her screams”. This break from routine was enough for him to do the same. Slowly he pushed himself to his feet and walked to the bars that confined him and called out.

“There is no need to apologize, miss. This place is meant to wear one's mind down. The fact you’ve lasted so long is a testament to your own mental fortitude. But I must ask, whose screams can we not hear? In a place like this, I’m afraid screams are all we do hear.”

@AtomicNut

You know what sucks? Jail. You know what sucks more? Inquisitor Jail. You know what sucks the most? Fighting back when a guard beats you up and then getting fucking ganked by 5 more rushing to the guy's aid.

could have taken them too, if I had some better food and some sort of bed, the now bruised and battered Abe thinks for at least the eighth time since being shoved into one of the solitary cells, too much of a "danger" to be in with the larger groups right now. That was the real frustrating bit here - there was no one to talk to! The water pooling in his cell also sucked, but that was more or less expected at this point, really. Still, it would be so much better if something - anything was happening.

Well. Maybe not another visit from an Inquisitor. he shudders.