Name: Greb Foundmoney
Inmate #: 149-0495
Crime: Attempted Murder, Arson, Theft
It’s been about a week since you woke up here. Your fingers are just starting to heal from the heat blisters left from that exploding lock. “That’ll be the last time I take a job from a drunk halfling with a big purse. No matter how big her rack is.” you tell yourself.
The stories you’ve heard about the isle are true enough. The walls are a smooth stone with no visible cracks or joints. Almost as if it were cut from the earth itself. The magic barrier that surrounds the isle distorts the sky giving it a yellow hue. In fact the only time you’ve seen the sun is when you made the trek from the holding cells to the dome.
The dome, where the vilest, most despicable beings on the face of the world are held. Which begs the question, what did you do to be locked up with this lot?..was something the guard muttered to you when you entered.
The dome itself is indescribable. Several stories tall and deep with a hollow center. Each level periodically rotates in different directions to keep the inmates disorientated. The walls are metallic with a deep copper hue. Magical runes cover every inch of their surface and small yet fiercely bright torches light the halls. All the cell doors appear to be solid sheets of metal with no obvious handles or keyholes. Only a number above the door identifies the individual inmates. Your cell…#149… is a quaint box complete with a bed, toilet and a small trunk that is welded to the floor.
When you first entered, the guard asked you to change into your prisoner gown and place all clothing and into the trunk. You did so, and as you placed your belongings into the trunk, they were vacuumed away into the blackness of the trunk to who know’s where….unsettling…
Today was supposed to be the day you would hear the extent of your sentence and the crimes you had been accused of but as your cell door sits open….you think plans may have changed…
Inmate #: 150-0001
Your home for the last several years has not been as cruel to you as it has been to others. The guards and overseers look at you as more of an refreshing amusement from the daily tasks and show appreciation of your cooperative demeanor by allowing you “walking privileges”. Essentially, once a day you are allowed to roam the first floor with your pet until the guards tell you to return to your cell. You know most of the guards by name now and find most of them to be likable individuals. Although, captain of the prison guard, Captain Klavis, views you like he views most of the inmates, scum waiting to be scrapped from the heel of his boot.
Surprisingly, you know little of your fellow inmates. You’ve seen a few on occasion. The ones that were brought in before the guards remembered to hurry you to your cell. Mostly recently a drow to the left of you and another to your right whom you’ve only heard the guards mummer about.
You’ve had inklings about some of your other neighbors however. Inklings that only your demonic blood would sense. Specifically inmate 146-0001. During walks you intentionally distance yourself from his cell door. There is something off setting…even for you…about this individual… Regardless, you are excited for today’s walk. Usually its several hours after you wake but today, it seems your cell door is open early…
Name: Ash’ric Erdune
Inmate #: 151-6785
Crime: Murder (Multiple Counts)
Your first year on the isle has been quite different than you first imagined it. While you do receive the occasional harassment from the guards for your appearance, the near complete isolation from other inmates has made it more peaceful than it would have been at any other prison. In fact, the only other inmate you’ve made eye contact with is the strange looking girl in the neighboring cell who was strolling the halls as they dragged you in.
The dread always overwhelms you when you remember that this will be your home for the rest of your days. In any other place maybe you would have had a trial, face your accusers and plead your case, but not here. As many people know, the isle is privately funded. Anyone with enough coin and power could put any poor soul away for eternity. You’ve gathered from the guards that the men you slaughtered outside of Wickerwall were part of a group of emissaries from Vester and vassals of Speaker Leopold Shanahan. And like most radicals, he’s not fond of forgiving…
And as you sit and wonder how you could ever get yourself out of this hell hole, as if on command, your cell door slides open…