Glancing over to her opposite cell, she looked towards the familiar face of another prisoner; dark haired and fairly hardened. He had been in the prison longer than Ysloda. He seemed comfortable in his cell the day she arrived, so she assumed he had been in there for a good time already. The man looked no older than 40, but looked particularly well built for a man of his age. Interaction between prisoners was diminished by an Elven barrier spell, so socializing was not an option. He, however, did not look like he would be willing to talk to her, anyway. Glancing away as not to attract his attention, Ysloda completed her little line.
Sighing, Ysloda sat by the wall, waiting for news on the negotiations that would occur today. The guards in the prison had been chattering about the arrival of a Darcsen Mage. Unlike the Dwares and the Dregurs, they held a highly neutral stance in the Hume/Elven war. Naturally, either side would resort to the Darcsen for a decision when it came to negotiations. The ancient race had come to represent justice in Ismariel. Besides this, it would be impossible for hume negotiators to find Elven territories that were hidden deep within the woods of the northern continent.
It was here that the door for the keep slammed open. Walking in was a Darcsen, accompanied by two elves on either side. The Darcsen was dressed in a brilliant cloak of a dark navy blue hue. The dark skin on his bare chest stood out, creating the illusion of a space completely devoid of existence. He had come to the keep to determine whether the humes were truly worthy of freedom, surely. The elf on the left of the Darcsen seemed to be a lowly guard, charged with escorting guests. The one on the right Ysloda recognized as Isadriel, the high keeper of the prison. She snarled. It was he who had imprisoned her. Glancing from the blank facial expression of the elves, Ysloda turned her self to face he empty "face" of the Darcsen. Although she could see no eyes on his face, Ysloda could feel a piercing gaze that sent shivers down her spine. Having never heard a Darcsen speak, she was curious to hear the hollow voice of the creature, as they were rumored to be able to drain the mass around them with every breath. "What judgement is there to be passed on prisoners of war, Ancient one?" Ysloda spoke, rather in vain. The enchantments prevented her voice from reaching the Darcsen.
It was only after the creature had begun its speech that a distant bell was heard - no doubt signifying an ensuing threat.
Edited by Dion, 02 December 2011 - 06:58 PM.