Jailhouse Blues

**Date Started:** September 22nd,
**Date Completed:** Ongoing
**Previous Role-Play:** N/A
**Users Involved:** **User:PuddingCups**

**Setting**: **Bastille**
**Characters Involved:**
* **Marcelo Bamberg**
* **Zane Mirthcleaver**
* **Dion Fortune**
* **Siegfried**
* **Aguilon Castile**

## First Day

It was a brand new day at Bastille and an exciting one at that. Due to a recent incident the Warden refused to discuss for legal reasons, many of their jailors were… well, gone. Luckily a fresh group of eager trainees was being shipped in, three applicants who had failed to become Magic Knights but were instead offered positions in one of the Clover Kingdoms penitentiaries. Though none were quite as big as Bastille. It was the largest in all of clover, a fact that the Warden took pride in.

The wagon made its way through the rocky barren wasteland, full of earth's jagged edges. It was a rather worn down coach with an elderly driving and three very distinctive looking people, all in guards uniforms. A muscular man, a weak man, and a blonde woman.

“Are we there yet? God this view is terrible. Who would put a prison way out here in the Valley of Death?” Claire groaned, her head bobbing as they made their way through the winding bumpy road. The scrawny man, Wesley, looked up from his book, putting a finger in the air as if a lightbulb. “Actually Claire, that’s precisely what makes this an amazing prison! There's nothing around here for miles and if one were too esca-” The book had been ripped from his hands by a bulky stone wall of a man. “Sienos! Give that back!”

Sienos laughed and Claire giggled but much to her dismay the book was thrown right at her. “Both of you…” He grumbled. “Don’t mess this up for me.” Sienos crossed his arms in anger, his comrades seemed to shrink in fear but after a few seconds they returned to their usual banter, causing him to sigh.

“I mean seriously, was this place always this way? Morbid and bleak… yuck.”

“Actually, it used to be a lot different…”

Claire went to interrupt again, she hated when he said such random and irrelevant facts but she was stopped by Sineos who was actually interested in what Wesley had to say for once.

“Thank you. As I was saying, this place used to be a Grand Magic Zone. No one knows what changed, but slowly this place just kind of…”

“Died?” Claire added in, a finger on her lip as her head tilted. She wanted to know if she had gotten the question right.

“Pretty much.” Wesley confirmed.

Quickly losing interest, Sienos brought up their new jobs as a way to shift the conversation, and at least keep him interested. “This place is pretty hard to get into, I wonder what made them choose us.”

Wesley had been thinking about it. The burning question had bothered him, his thoughts going to the darkest places. “Oh sure, a prison full of Clover’s most wanted suddenly needs another batch of Jailors out of the blue! For no reason… I think it’s obvious what happened.”

A small breath of air forming a slight laugh came from Sienos. Claire was utterly confused and very very lost. “What do you mean!” She exclaimed, throwing her hands up in surrender before shrugging. “She’s a lost cause.” The men mumbled in unison causing Claire to shake her fist at them. “At least I have my beauty! What do you two have! Nothing, nothing, nothing!” She shrieked ready to lunge at them but suddenly the wagon stopped.

“And we’ve made it.” Came a shrill elderly voice from outside the wooden ride.

Claire was the first out of the wagon, stretching her long legs in a way which showed off her feminine curves, hypnotizing the elderly man. “Watch it perv!” She shouted, causing him to drunkenly stumble away, towards the massive building. While she stretched, the two men were starstruck. Not by her body, but the monument in front of them. It stood up on an eroding rock, held in place by four solid thick chains; undoubtedly made by magic.

“T-t-t-this is huge!” Wesley said, clearly excited but overwhelmed. “Yeahaha! The prisoners in here must be real bad guys.” Claire yawned. “Are you two done? We can’t be late! We’ve got that super important meeting to go to! The warden called it, remember?”

The two had practically been drooling over it, the exciting opportunity before them. Luckily Claire had been there to bring them back to reality. Together the three entered the fortress. The inside was just as depressing as the outside. Even the lobby seemed gruesome, the workers looked fairly mean and unhappy but then again, it was prison.

They stopped for a few minutes, looking around, getting a feel of the place. This had caused them to be late for the meeting, something they had once again forgot about. Eventually they arrived, Wesley and Sienos entering first as Claire needed to quote unquote freshen up.

As the doors of the meeting hall slammed open, the seats were packed, staring up at a stage and a podium holding a giant man. He was just in the middle of the speech when the interruption occurred, causing the crowd to gasp. They had seen stuff like this happen before. The vein in the warden's head shot out like a bullet. “Oh no…” “They should have been on time!” “They’re in trouble..” The crowd murmured and he opened his mouth, preparing to send out a roar of wordy hellfire on the two new but late employees.

That was when the door slammed open once again, knocking the weak Wesley out of the way and quite literally sending him barreling across the room. “Sorry I’m late.” Claire said, striking a pose as bubbles foamed up around her body. “A few prisoners… dropped the soap.” She said teasingly, turning around to pick up a random bar of soap before posing once more.

The crowd had fallen silent, very confused about the tempresses actions but the Warden was no longer able to yell. His hands clasped together and moved to his cheek, hearts formed in his eyes as he swooned over the young attractive blonde. “You’re all forgiven okay! Just sit down!” He said sweetly in an unusually high voice that heavily contradicted his manly appearance.

“You’re welcome.” Claire huffed, walking past the new recovered Wesley and Sienos. They took their seats, ready to hear the remainder of the speech.

Clearing his throat, the Warden silenced the crowd with a pounding of his fist against the podium's flat wooden top. “ATTENTION! I am Warden Drumgoole. As some of you have seen, we’ve recently gotten three new jailors. That means we have to go over the code of conduct again.”

The sounds the crowd were making showed their displeasure but a stern look put them back on track. Drumgoole was a scary man. He ruled with fear and he did it well, something the three new recruits would soon be forced to learn.

“First things first…” The warden went over various mundane facts about working in the prison, the schedule of their breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Things of the liking. “Now it is important that everyone knows the prisoners are never under any circumstances allowed to leave their cells.” The three newbies hands shot up ready with questions, he stopped these with an extended palm, beginning his next spiel. “You see, my Game Magic allows me to give the prisoners everything they could need from the comfort of their cells.” The crowd was amazed at the Wardens grimoire, it looked so shiny and new and his aura was so powerful.

“Lastly… it’s vital you understand that these prisoners within Bastille are not like the criminals you have encountered before. These are not petty thieves who steal to survive, or those who kill in self defense.” The man gripped the podium, summoning the courage to say the words, as if it physically hurt to do so. “These are hollow shells. Their sins have corrupted them. The things they’ve done, the crimes they have committed… they are unspeakable. Every single person in a cell is a danger to Clover and it is our job to keep them contained. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” The crowd got to their feet, saluting as they returned to their stations. The new recruits tried to escape in the sea of people but were grabbed by their shirt callers, the doing of the big burly warden.

“Not so fast.” The three grunted as they turned around. “You all have work to do. It’s hazing time. If you’re gonna survive here we need to know you have what it takes.” He pushed the three out the door and up the stairs to the top row of cells. Multiple chains hung from the ceilings and they had to go through several security checks before they finally made it.

“What is this place?” Claire asked. Sienos was observing the scene, attempting to see in the dark shadowy cells that were all around them. Wesley was shaking at the knees, terrified of the people that lurked behind the iron bars. “This is where we keep some of our worst. If you can’t handle them then you can’t work here.”

“H-h-h-handle t-t-them! W-what do you m-m-mean!” Wesley shrieked, “Do we have to FIGHT THEM?” His jaw dropped, clearly hoping that wasn’t the case.

The warden chuckled, grabbing his stomach and leaning back as he did. “HAHAHAHAHA! Don’t be silly my boy. Letting these prisoners fight would be… chaos.”

“A-are they really that strong?” Wesley asked, gaining confidence.

“The ones on this block? The strongest. That’s why we have those all around.” He pointed towards the middle of the prison, in a large opening that the cell blocks circled was a large floating rock with an obelisk shape. “That’s a magic weakening stone. No one on this level could so much as open their grimoire.” He laughed. “Besides, you wouldn’t hold a candle to them.” He slapped Wesley’s back, causing him to stumble forward.

“Then what is it that we’re doing?” Sienos stepped forward, his hands crossed as he stared at the warden. “Talking to them.” The warden said sternly, shocking the three recruits.

“What? What do you mean! How hard could that be!” Claire called out. Sienos smirked. Wesley felt relieved, but still trembled.

“You’ll see. We call this Roll Call. Ask each prisoner their name, crime, and sentence.”

Claire smiled and huffed, swinging her handcuffs around as if they were a purse. Sienos stepped forward confidently and Wesley.. Well eventually got where he needed to be.

## Roll Call

Rats scurried across the prison floor, squeaking in a way that freaked Claire out. She had glided through life on her beauty and charm, something prisoners seemed to care very little about but she wasn’t nervous. They had each been given two specific prisoners to talk too but they were only given cell numbers. Approaching her first cell, she prepared herself by looking at her reflection in a damp puddle of water, screaming to see a rat run across her high heeled shoe. “AHHHHH!”

A nearby guard came to help Claire who was unable to move out of disgust. “Ma’am what’s wrong!” He said, grabbing her shoulder. She shuddered, pointing slowly at the rat that had scurried into the prisoners cell. The guard sighed, walking away. Recollecting herself she approached the cell, looking at her information pamphlet on how to handle this and what to ask.

Beating her grimoire against the iron bars she shouted at the prisoner who was nowhere to be seen. “Wakey wakey! It’s roll call!” She shouted, startled by a shadowy figure slithering to the front of the cell, his body slowly dancing upwards from the ground, his tongue flickering like a candle flame. “Yessss?” He said, tilting his head.

Claire began to sweat. The man looked so creepy! So weird! He could barely be seen from underneath a thick black cloak. It was tattered and torn, appearing as if he had been attacked by wolves. Not seeing his face somehow made him more scary.

“I demand to know your name!” Claire said demandingly, putting her hands on her hips and taking a serious tone.

The mysterious man laughed in her face, hissing like a serpent. “I’ve got a better idea!” He sounded exciting but in a cruel and twisted way, as if he was suggesting a game no one wanted to play.

“Oh come on!” She huffed, bending over to shake what she always shook to get her way. “Let’s make this easy! Just tell me! Please, please, please!” She said, her hips moving from side to side. She hoped this technique would work but it soon became very clear it hadn’t.

“Why don’t we play a little game?” The cloaked figure said. “Guess who!” The hood flew off of his head revealing a man with pasty, ghastly skin. His eyes were wrapped in a black liner, his laps lathered in a shiny black gloss. His hair was wild, tied into a ponytail while his middle parted bangs swayed just as he did.

Claire screamed, and this time not because of a rat. She recognized the man. Within the town of {Bc|Nairn}}, he was an infamous killer. Everyone knew him. She had seen pictures as a child, and been told horror stories… he was here? She stepped back, as if that would shield her from evil.

“Marcelo Bamberg.” She stated, her hands clenched. Now she knew what the Warden meant. “AND THE REST IS HISTORY!!” He shouted, falling onto his back and cackling as he licked his lips, his feet kicking the concrete in hysteria. “You should have seen the look on your face!” “Priceless!” He continued his reign of terror, attempting to humiliate the deeply disturbed blonde jailor.

Still, she stood her ground. “Crime and sentence.” It seemed he had angered her and Claire was more determined than ever to just get to the next cell and have this be done. “Awww, are we done playing? It was so much fun, wasn’t it?” His eyes looked hungry but not for food. For blood. Claire had no doubt that if he could use his magic, if he had the chance to get out of the cell, he’d take it and kill anyone he could. No one here felt remorse for what they did. It wasn’t like the other prisons.

“Crime and sentence!” She cried out. “Well you’re just no fun.” He said plainly, “I’m bored of you.” He waved his hand at her signaling for her to leave. “MURDER, 968 YEARS! GET OUT!” He screamed, grabbing the iron bars and attempting to shake them, startling Claire who once she had received the information, left immediately.

The same rat that had gone into his cell then left, scurrying into another and then another. Clearly the prison had an infestation.

Claire made her way to the next cell, this man was visible from the start. He had silvery locks that stood up like a lion's mane. His chiseled elf-like face and sharp jaw would have been attractive on anyone else, but on this man it seemed so off. So sinister. Around his eyes were a strange tattoo, a shape no one could make out in such a dim, dark, and depressing place. His body was covered in similar tattoos, visible because he wore no shirt. Only a tattered skirt for a bottom and a worn out scarf around his neck.

He leaned against a wall in his cell, his arms crossed casually as he waited, watching a few rats squeak into his cell with a smirk. “And what’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?” He asked, much to Claire’s surprise.

It seemed she had forgotten the lesson she was meant to learn, poofing up her hair and taking the compliment with pride. “It’s nice to see that someone in here knows how to treat a lady.” Claire said, peeking through the bars. Smoothly, the man pushed himself off the wall and approached the bars, as if to be closer to her.

“And what’s your name? Crime? Sentence?” Claire said, somewhat scared by his approach. At first he spoke softly, beckoning her closer. Hesitantly she edged forward, trying to hear better. Her mistake. Reaching through the bars he grabbed her wrist and attempted to pull her in, a twisted malicious smile on his face. “Is that all it takes? A few compliments to get you to trust one of us…” He barked into her ear which was pressed against the bars. “Good luck kitty cat.” He said, releasing her. Claire stumbled back, her breath heavy, her pupils dancing in her eyes.

“What the hell!” She called out angrily. “NAME. CRIME. SENTENCE.” She was mad but he could only laugh. He enjoyed playing with his prey. “Zane Mirthcleaver. Murder and Robbery. One hundred and ninety nine years.” Claire had heard enough, walking away as fast as she possibly could, her heels echoed through the prison but his laugh seemed to follow her.

Sienos managed to find his cell as well. Being a stern and tough man, he didn’t have any reservations. He went into this knowing he wouldn’t budge or break, or so he believed.

The first cell he was assigned to seemed normal enough. Not that a standard prison cell could be weird, but it didn’t send chills down his spine. No survival instinct had kicked in telling him to run away. As he approached, he could dimly see a woman sitting in the corner, her legs sprawled out, her head held down. One hand covered an eye as the other laid sloppily by her side.

Her most noticeable feature, at least in the dark, was her abnormally large witch hat. A symbol of clothing that told him she had to be from the Witches' Forest. Believing the witch to be asleep, Sienos attempted to wake her up.

“Witch! Witch! Get up.” He called out. Her head shifted, her hand moving from her face. “Sienos. I had a feeling you’d be here soon.” The guard was shocked, how did she know his name? The witch smiled. “Now you wonder how I know? Isn’t it obvious. Clairvoyance.”

“You can’t tell the future.” The man grumbled, choosing to believe this was an obvious lie. “Would you like to bet on it?” She suggested. “Bet on it! What the- just state your name, crime, and sentence!” He swept his hand through the air in an attempt to silence her. He was just trying to do his job, not get tricked into whatever game she was playing.

“I’ll tell you if you win.” The witch lifted herself from the corner, her lower body lagging behind, snapping back up into place spontaneously. A rather creepy way to get back up. Slowly she walked towards the gate, showing off her scantily clad witch's garb adorned with chains. Up close, she was considerately beautiful but it wasn’t a conventional beauty. Not the type that every man in the world swooned over.

“I’m not here to make a bet with you. Name. Crime. Sentence.” He demanded, planting his feet in the spot and staring at the prisoner who seemed unmoved by his macho gesture. Oddly enough, the witch mouthed the words he spoke as he spoke them, as if she knew exactly what he was going to say. “You stop that!” He shouted.

The witch smiled. “My name is Dion Fortune. I’ve never lost a bet.” The with pushed the brim of her hat upward with an index finger, eyeing the man. “We didn’t make a bet.” He proclaimed, much to the witches enjoyment. “Oh but we will and I hate to tell you…” She pointed toward him, moving her finger as if to signal him clover. “I’ve never lost a bet.” She then twirled away, going to the back of her cell.

The man was dumbfounded, how could she… he shook it off. “I still need your crime and sentence!”

“Illegal gambling. One hundred and twenty two years.” She said it so nonchalantly, as if her crime was worth nothing. Clearly it had been worth something to receive one hundred and twenty two years over it. Sienos had several questions but he wasn’t supposed to ask. Toughening back up, he straightened the hat on his head and marched to his next requirement, not even paying any mind to the rats that seemed to dance through the various rooms of the prison.

The next location felt colder. It was odd. Most inmates' magic was either severely weakened or disabled and this chilling sensation still struck. As if winter itself had been locked away. This man laid on the ground, three pale blue pigtails falling behind him every which way, messy bangs touching his eyes. His arms acted as a rest for his head and he was dressed very warm.

Sienos had learned from the witch it was better to stick to business. “Name, crime, and sentence.” This time Sienos corrected his form, standing a little taller, his chest a little puffier. He wanted to make sure he left no room for error, in mind and body.
Turning, the prisoner gave an icy glare before rolling over and facing the wall.

Sienos twitched with anger and frustration! He was being… ignored!?! Comedically waving his hands around he danced for attention, but the prisoner wasn’t giving it. “Inmate!” He said, stomping his foot to dramatize his words. Nothing. “INMATE!” Nothing he said seemed to work, the prisoner just blew it off.

Finally after minutes of screaming and yelling, the prisoner finally spun around, annoyed. “Siegfried. Fraud and blackmail. One hundred and eight years.” He then turned back around, ignoring whatever the guard said and did in return. Sienos was offended, he expected more and was very surprised at how anticlimactic that had been. He thought about it for several minutes, standing outside the same cell.

“This is the part where you leave.” Siegfried called out, getting Sienos out of his daze. Finished with the assignment, he returned to the Warden.

Wesley was the one everyone had been worried about. He was a bit of a jitterbug and widely considered to be the teams weakest link. Even he, himself, seemed to think so.He was terrified to meet the prisoners, even though he only needed to ask simple questions, he doubted he would receive simple answers.

Wesley came upon his first inmate by complete accident. Having been looking at the map of the prison upside down, he barely managed to find his way around. The prisoner was big and tall, extremely muscular. His sun-kissed darkly tan skin showed he wasn’t from Clover or the surroundings kingdoms. He had to have been from a place far, far away.

Somehow he had managed to find a cigarette, taking a hit he then threw it to the ground, taking the spark out with the tip of his boot. “You a new recruit, kid?” His voice was deep and he spoke very angrily, like that was just his natural tone. Wesley jumped. “Y-yeah.”

“Well I’ll make this easy for ya then…”

Wesley was surprised and slightly happy. “R-r-really sir?”

“HELL NO.” The prisoner replied with a slight smirk. Clearly this was his entertainment for the day.

Wesley covered his ears as the convict screamed. Shaking terribly. It made him wonder if this was truly where he was meant to be. A jailor at Clover's most dangerous prison.

“Is that all ya got pipsqueak? You’re just gonna sit and shake? Lame.” That comment set something off within Wesley. When his friends had made fun of him, it was different. When his boss had done it, that was slightly worse, but this was the last straw. How could anyone treat him that way!

It was as if the scrawny young boy had turned into a man. He swallowed his cowardice and digested it into bravery. “Name, crime and sentence!” He requested, his voice and body was weak but he was determined.

Then the rats came. Five or six, traveling in a large pack right into the man's cell! Wesley attempted to hold his stance as they went past, sweat leaking from his pores as he held back a shriek or a scream. Why did this prison have so many rats?

“How bout you do us both a favor and get the hell out of my sight?” The bulky tan prisoner said, lighting up yet another cigarette and blowing its smoke in a large cloud toward Wesley.

“HOW DID YOU EVEN GET THOSE IN HERE SERIOUSLY!!!” The jailor screeched, waving his hands around to disperse the smoke. Wesley thought about turning around and quitting, doing just what the prisoner said and after a long mental battle of wills, he decided to stay.

“No! I need your name, crime, and sentence!” Wesley pumped his fist, attempting to build his self esteem like a train choos.

This time the cigarette was flicked directly at Wesley. “You’re really startin’ to piss me off.” The man grit his teeth, jerking forward slightly and stomping his boot on the floor, as if he was about to charge toward the meak jailor.

The threatening action was a great scare tactic and it definitely worked. Wesley whimpered in fear but quickly snapped out of it, toughening up. Annoyed, the prisoner moved on to his next move. “Fine, you wanna know so bad… the name Mad Bomber ring any bells?” Wesley froze, thinking of the question and digging into the back of his mind for an answer. It came.

“No way…”

The prisoner chuckled. “Oh yeah… poosh.” He made an explosion sound effect and then laughed again. Tickled by Wesley’s realization of his crimes, a realization that caused him to be speechless. Finally the prisoner won. “Aguilon Castile. Serial bombing. One hundred and forty nine years.” Wesley’s mind was battling his body for control, he questioned why someone could do something so horrible…

He had heard the tales of the Mad Bomber. The man who had once belonged to the Magic Knights before terrorizing the Clover Kingdom with his magical explosives. Aguilion flicked his lighter, watching the fire dance as Wesley walked away to his next assignment.

The next cell was definitely easier to deal with. Though it had twice as many rats in it as the others, they squeaked and squeaked, scampering about with their tiny paws, some even climbing all over the large, plump, ugly man that sat behind bars, stuffing his face with cheese.

“Name, crime, and sentence!” Wesley said as he approached, eager to finish his job. The man crammed a large triangle of cheese in his mouth, yellow specs and crumbs flying all over the cell, picked up by the rats the prisoner called his friends. It made Wesley wonder about the man.

“Names Fratley.” He said with a burp, patting his belly as if that helped the cheese go down. A few of the rats crept from the cage, running past Wesley who was equally disturbed as he was before. “Don’t mind my friends, they’re just hungry’s all.”

“Uhh…” Wesley felt something suspicious was happening with the rats but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Maybe he could report it to the Warden? “As for me crime, I was smugglin! And caught doin it. What a shame.” He snickered like a rat, sucking his teeth about three times before picking up a block of cheese, it seemed he had a stash in his cell. “Fifty years or so, didn’t count.” He shrugged, digging in with his two large front teeth.

Wesley was very bothered by what he had seen, maybe even more so than when we saw the Mad Bomber. The rats in this prison were no coincidence.

Returning to the Warden's office, where they all had been told to go once they completed their job, he prepared a way to speak his concerns.

The three recruits arrived at nearly the same time and each of them had something to say.