Thread: Relentless Rage

What the natives had constructed into a prison was a series of spacious caverns embedded within a bluff-side. The cliff was habitually lapped at by the starving tongue of the shore most of the men who were responsible for the prison's architecture were forced to erect quarried stone walls to keep the seasonal storms from flooding the cells. Even now as winter was coming to an end they struggled to maintain the prison's wellbeing. Even as they escorted this man - this very, very vehement man - into his cell, a handful of able-bodied men were working together to secure new walls. Get 'em in there! one of the wardens cried. At the man's behest two men thrust the violent man into the cell and hastily locked it when they were done. What if it floods? The warden made a face of brief concern. It should be flooding much more this season, he muttered only half reassuringly as he stroked his beard, By the time the next spring comes these walls will be sturdy enough to withstand the ocean waves, no matter how high they may grow. That being said ... I cannot speak for this season. He shot their new prisoner a menacing leer the commanded his appointed guards to continue their previous task. I've never seen your face here before. Even so, that is no excuse for you to be mistreating the indigenous as such. We are a peaceful, hospitable people we let you, a stranger into our establishments only to be viciously scorned like animals. We do not approve of this behavior, stranger , and as a result, you will be punished. At that instant the warden could hear a heavy, deep thud. A wave had crashed up along the bluff-side, another sizable one at that. He cringed at the sound of his men scrambling, then the dying sizzle of the water which had managed to seep into the cavern. Their cries were incoherent and muffled he could do nothing but swat his forehead. The warden had before vowed that this prison would be a safer stronghold, but it was still in its early stages as it was completely irrelevant before the crime rate had risen drastically. Virtually three hours had passed and the warden had returned toting about a questionably large - and primitive looking - crossbow. A shadow would prance around in the background from time to time, its foreignness exaggerated by the low flicker of the torches lining the corridor. Hey! H-hey, warden ...! One of the prisoners cried. He wove his arms through the bars of his cell and pointed off in the distance to a woman who stood still as stone. She watched a blank wall with no expression, merely a stony stillness. You! the warden barked. No response. You! he cried again. This time the woman adhered to his beckoning and turned. She came into the full light, her olive-colored eyes littered with flecks of entrancing gold. The look of raw nonchalance on her face made even the warden feel his pulsing heart come to a slow, steady strum. She's been in here before, one of the prisoners remarked. The warden hushed him, glanced at the new prisoner then to her. She stood still, still like stagnant water. She made a motion to the man with her head. The warden gawked then pointed. Him? What about him? She parted her full lips and let her sweet, sultry voice spill out like a river of honey and molasses. Let him free.