Isaac in Acumin

[Loudmouth]

OOC: Cont'd from here

[Isaac]

Isaac awoke on his back. "Urgh..." Ow! What just happened?

He opened his eyes and instinctively looked to see if his hands were still bound. Whew! They weren't. A small feeling of relief and freedom waved over him. He slowly tried to sit up when he realized he could not without feeling a sharp pain shooting through his stomach. Ow! He quickly fell back down, holding his abdomen in pain.

After a few minutes, he stood up, slowly, not being able to stay in a sitting position as it crunched his diaphragm. Stretching out himself and shaking off the pain as best he cood, he took a look around the room. It was a cell, but it was oddly covered in flora. The bars of the cell were composed of vines and other plant life.

I'm trapped again.

There wasn't much in the cell at all. There were a couple of scraps of rubbish here and there. It looked like the cell may be easy to break out of, but Isaac really didn't have the will power to do so; he was still a little sore and much too tired.

Isaac hadn't realized that even with all of these rapid events, he still didn't feel any sort of sorrow. He felt fear, sure, and worry, but no sorrow or remorse. Even in a situation such as this he couldn't bring himself to come to tears. He just didn't feel any sort of regret, anything like "Why did this have to happen to me?" Something in him had changed a little. He was spending more time thinking of what to do next rather than thinking of what had happened before. The change was odd for a child such as he. Really, it was just that he was too caught up in the present to even think about the past.

He looked around the cell once more, blinking a couple times to clear up both his vision and his head. He noticed a form--a man it looked like--crouched in the corner of his cell. Instinctively, his friendly nature rose up. "Excuse me sir, but do you know where exactly we are?" Obviously it's a cell, but what's with the vines and stuff?

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OoC: Immense apologies for the delay; band camp got in the way. Does this work better?

[Loudmouth]

OOC: Sry this took so long.

The man looked up at the words of young Issac. He looked old and smelled of whiskey. He was not as askinny as previously thought, it merely seemed his clothes were a bit too big on him. He looked into the dark orbs of the Vysticci. His face was suddenly sticken with a terror so real it even scared Isaac a bit. He then let out a howl. "Please, please don't hurt me, I ain't done nothing to hurt you please please don't hurt me."

As the man spoke he scarmbled to the other side of the cell. He seemed at his senses but completely terrified of Isaac. A grown man was sitting the the fetal position on the corner of a cell fearing a child elf. Something was not right here.

[Isaac]

OoC: Intense apologies for the large spasm of delay; marching band got in the way. Hey, that rhymed!
--I realize Acumin is highly inactive at the moment, but I'll post anyways. If it doesn't get a reply for weeks, so be it.

IC:

Isaac was almost as stunned as the man was. The man was not just taken aback. The expression on his face showed cold-blooded fear, almost to the point of being inhuman. At first Isaac looked left and right and then behind him, trying to see if the man's gaze was looking at something other than himself, but it seemed that was not the case. Ok, so I'm the only one here. I guess that means he's afraid of ME. Why would someone be afraid of me?

Isaac was beginning to understand more and more that outside of Herozzal, things were much different. It seemed as if he would have a hard time finding friends. He wasn't sure whether to be angry or remorseful about it. And yet, at the moment all he felt was frustration. Right now, all he wanted was to get out, and seeing this sickly old fellow being as unhelpful as he was had begun to vex him. Still, he calmed himself down, realizing anger and frustration would get him nowhere.

Ok, Isaac, breath in and breath out, breath in--wait...what is that wierd smell? The stench of whiskey was in the air. At first Isaac wasn't able to identify the scent, but occasionally his father, Eliond, had drunk, especially after a hard day of work. Although his father wasn't normally a mean drunk, he was a stupid drunk. He tended to stumble into things and drop things, and although sometimes it was humorous to Isaac, there were times when Isaac was truly worried about his father. Only once, however, had an extra drink driven his father to be somewhat harsh. He had come home from work once, and said he needed some whiskey to 'calm him down.' After a few drinks, he asked Isaac's mother, Isiviel, to pour him another glass. Seeing his deluded state, Isiviel refused, only to be hit by repeated blows from Eliond as a response. It only took Isiviel's tears for Eliond to come somewhat back to his senses, but ever since then, Isaac has retained a steady fear for the fluid, having witnessed the entire scene. The stench was something he would not forget.

Noticing this familiar smell coming from the man's oversized clothing took Isaac aback for a moment, and the memory flashed through his mind. Shaking it off, he decided that a man this weak couldn't possibly do the same. Breathing through his mouth to avoid the reeking smell lingering in the air, he approached the cowering man as he retreated into the corner.

"Calm down...erm...whoever you are. I'm not going to hurt you or anything. Can you please just tell me where we are?"

[Cheshire]

OOC: Sorry for letting this hang so long, I've been trying to get a handle on everything. Also...sorry for the crappy post, it'll take me a bit to get into it. It's always hard to step in on someone else's plot.

IC:

The man seemed to calm little as the Vysticchi spoke. He couldn't quite speak, and he was trembling. It made little sense, given the size difference between the two. He must have been especially scared of Vysticchi, or just plain crazy. After another minute or two of sobbing, the man finally seemed to compose himself enough to reply.

"We're in the Acumin Gaol. It's not quite official, but this is where they put all the dangerous people, or the people who they assume are dangerous. I am a peaceful man. I am a peaceful man..."

The man trailed off, repeating himself. It seemed that all was not right within this place, even Isaac could tell. Could the Vysticchi really picture this cowering figure doing something to justify his captivity.

[Isaac]

"The Acumin Gaol..." Where have I heard that before? I know that name...yes, I'm positive I know that name. Isaac's attention trailed off from the situation. He started pacing the room, trying to remember where exactly he had heard the words used together. Something about it struck him as important...

~~~~~

The herald, backed by two guards holding a bound Vysticchi, spoke loudly and clearly to the Vysticchi gathered by the entrance to the caves of Herozzal. Although he was not able to enter the city and give his message to the whole of Herozzal's population for safety reasons, his announcement was to be carried on by the small crowd to the rest of Vysticchi. Still, out of habit, he spoke as if he were addressing a large crowd.

"Hear ye, hear ye, citizens of Herozzal! By order of the honorable lord of Acumin, the following decree is hereby enacted! Due to perpetual acts of violence between our peoples, any further contact by you darkie scum with Acumin's citizens that could lead to an act deemed criminal by our laws will result in instant arrest. You will be placed in the Acumin Gaol until your execution. I repeat; you will be executed. If the boundaries are breached, it is within the power of the citizens of Acumin to decide whether the contact made between our peoples was of a criminal nature or not. I would advise you to stay within your boundaries. And as an example..."

The herald signalled to the guards, who immediately dashed the Vysticchi they were holding to the ground in front of the messengers. Bound by hand and feet, he could do nothing as one of the guards stretched his whip, raised it, and cracked it upon his back, once, twice, thrice. Through fifty lashes, the elf maintained straight face, almost with a haughty smirk. His stoic, painless eyes pierced into the herald. The herald spoke once more, with an air of disappointment. "This "man" has been charged with the crime of theft of a noble. For this he shall be beheaded. Because we are not a cruel people, we will not behead him directly in front of his kin. He will, however, be imprisoned and executed by first light on the morrow. I bid you all farewell." Then he mumbled under his breath, "And I hope it is the last farewell that I should have to give to you rubbish." Mounting his horse, he gave his guards a signal. They tied one of the ropes binding the elf's feet to one of their horses without hesitation. The elf realized that he was to be dragged to his cell, but seemed to think nothing of it. He whispered to the Vysticchi standing nearest him. "Heheh...they think they can keep me locked up. Tell everyone that I'll be back in a few days. I know the way out of the Acumin Gaol...I know the way out of the Acumin Gaol..." With those words on his lips, the guard let out a harsh "Giddyap!"

~~~~~

I know the way out of Acumin Gaol... The vision had come to him all at once. And yet, oddly enough, Isaac couldn't recall when he had seen the event occur. So wait, why didn't I remember seeing that arrest before? It definetly isn't ringing a bell...did I just hear the story from that elf who heard the convict's mumbling? Or was I in the crowd...I mean, we live close to the entrance. But I certainly don't remember seeing anyone getting whipped..."

He brushed it off, assuming he would recall the source of the memory at another time. Was there really a way out of this cell? He examined his surroundings. ...Hmph. Nothing was ringing a bell.

"I am a peaceful man...I am a peaceful man..." The ragged man kept repeating the phrase over and over, as if in a trance. Agh! He's becoming a nuisance. I wonder if he has a clue about how to get out of this place, though..."

"Excuse me, but before I came here, did you know anyone else who lived in this cell with you? Or what happens to people who end up here?"

[Cheshire]

If the man could hear Isaac, he showed no sign, only the repeated phrase and a slight rocking. He didn't cry though, just swayed back and forth. As the memory began to fade from the young Vysticchi, awareness of his real location became quite evident. The place was cold and dark, though there was a sliver of light shining about three or four feet down the foliage wall, perhaps the door? Even as it was examined, it was pushed harshly inward, revealing an older gentleman in green and brown. He looked too old to be a guard, despite the sword on his hip, and he held in each hand a bowl. Laying both down ont he ground, he turned and from somewhere outside acquired two cups and placed them beside each bowl. The bowls were full to the brim with a thick stew, and the cups equally full of fresh water. Isaac was young, but it was obvious that this was uncommon to give a prisoner, especially one of a race that was deemed unfit to live by most, and another that seemed quite mad.

The old man turned, about to leave, but there was an instant that could be siezed for Isaac to get a word in. Whether the man would listen was still up in the air.

[Isaac]

It wasn't until Isaac saw and smelled the food that he realized he was dreadfully hungry. Without delay or even a thank you to the man who had brought the food, he scrambled to the food like peasants to gold coins scattered by a noble seeking amusement at the expense of the poor. He slurped and swallowed the stew with such mind-boggling speed and enjoyment that one would think he was drinking ambrosia. It was surprisingly filling, unlike the thin gruel one would expect at a prison cell. Although it was a crude meal, to Isaac it was life-giving nectar.

It wasn't until Isaac was washing down his meal with water that he realized the old man was about to leave. "Wait a minute! Who are you, and why are you feeding us? Aren't we soon to be executed? And why exactly are we in such an odd prison? Are we to be released? What can we do to get out of here? And--"

Isaac cut himself short, realizing he was bombarding the man with too many questions at one time. He tried to some up everything into one vague question, hoping for a somewhat more specific response. "What's going on?"

[Cheshire]

The man glanced at Isaac with a bit of sadness in his eyes. He had just listened to a barrage of queries from the vysticchi child, and was trying to figure out how to respond, when a call from outside the makeshift cell made him start. He turned his head toward Isaac and bit his lip sadly. Silently, he mouthed a few words.

Next meal, in the bread.

Whatever that meant, the man was gone now. The voice outside had seemed quite angry, and the man seemed afraid to leave the cell, despite the obvious lunacy of it's other occupant, who had not even touched his meal. It seemed Isaac would have some time to contemplate the man's words, at least until the next meal, when there would apparently be bread.

[Isaac]

"Next meal, in the bread...Next meal, in the bread..."

Isaac ran the sentence through his head again and again. It wasn't overly cryptic, and Isaac came to the conclusion that whatever answer the man had to Isaac's question would be in the bread. Whether the message in the bread itself would be a simple scrap of paper written out or a cryptic message, Isaac had no idea.

Hmph. I'd better be careful eating that bread. If I eat like I did this last meal, there's a good chance that whatever the man was trying to tell me will be lost in my digestive tract.

It seemed there was nothing else to do than to wait it out. Isaac gazed once again at his odd companion; he still sat in the corner, unmoving. In a voice that was something between a murmur and a mumble, he seemed to still be saying "I am a peaceful man." His eyes seemed full of pain, red and bloodshot. Whatever he had--or hadn't--done to get into this awful place must have been terrifying.

The look of fear seemed permanantly etched into the man's facial features; his face was the very image of Deimos. Wrinkled and pale, he looked much older than he probably was. Much of his hair was gone, and what was left seemed brittle, oily, gra, and weak. He shivered constantly. At first, Isaac had thought it was due to the cold air coming into the dank cell, but it had since ceased, and the man had covered himself with a shawl. Isaac almost came to the conclusion that it was due to fear, but what was there to fear at this hour that there wasn't at any other? Fear is obviously of things to come, but to lie in fear of one occurence for so long was cowardice.

At this point, Isaac had realized he had been staring at the man for quite some time with a fairly wierd expression on his face, and quickly regained his composure. There wasn't much else in the cell Isaac hadn't already looked over. As for an escape route, nothing stuck out to him.

Maybe I should wait until the man comes with the bread, Isaac thought, yawning. For now, I think I'll just take...a...nice...nap...Zzzzzzzzz...

[Cheshire]

After a short nap, the same man from before came to deliver the bread. He had two loaves, one of which he tossed to the now-sleeping madman. It thudded to the dirty ground and slid a few inches, but the other prisoner did not wake. The other loaf, however, was gingerly handed to Isaac. It was much heavier than a loaf of such small size. Before either of the two had time to say a word, the same voice from before called out harshly. The man with the kindly eyes shut and locked the door, leaving the tow captives to their meal and the same darkness as before.

When the bread was broken, the weight of it was suddenly obvious. Baked within were two pieces of cold steel. One was flat and round, but thick, and the other was sharp and pointy. The pair was clearly some sort of chisel blade and weight, but wouldn't someone hear him pounding on it?

[Isaac]

Isaac thought for a little while. It seemed like the old man expected him to chisel his way through the bars of the makeshift cell. Then, after somehow remaining in almost complete silence throughout this process, he was to find a way outside the prison without attracting the attention of any of the guards. Also, Isaac couldn't attract the attention of the insane man babbling near him, as he seemed the type to quickly begin yelling for guards at the slightest disturbance.

...Right.

True, being a Vysticchi, his dark skin allowed him to camouflage and blend in with his surroundings. He was also able to move around with speed, agility, and stealth due to his small size. But even with these attributes, the risk was still considerably great. His silver locks and bright red eyes offset the rest of his camouflage, and no matter how stealthy he was, the pounding of the chisel would still cause a great deal of clatter, and there would be no way to avoid the gaze of the insane man without him being asleep.

So my obstacles right now are the sound made when breaking the bars and this fool in the corner...I can worry about the guards later. Unless the man expected me to get caught and wanted to see it happen, I highly doubt he intended for me to hack away at these bars. There must be another way...

Wait a second...why is that man helping me anyways? Why would he...oh forget it."

Isaac was starting to wonder if the food server had some motivation for getting Isaac out of the Gaol, and was beginning to suspect that escaping wouldn't be the best choice of action. Still, he seemed to have no alternative. It was either escape and face whatever consequence was to befall him or wait and rot in this cell.

"Hmph," Isaac laughed drily. "Not a very wide range of choices." Isaac pounded the sharp steel bit into the ground out of sheer stress and anger.

To his surprise, it made quite a wide incision into the floor, which ran fairly deep considering the force used upon. This got Isaac thinking again. What if I were to...scrape the bars of this prison cell? It would be a great deal quieter, the bars are brittle, and this steel is sharp. It seemed most of the security in the Acumin Gaol was with the guards. The cells were sturdy enough to hold in an unarmed being, but not strong enough to hold in one with tools.

Isaac decided he would have to wait until the odd fellow sharing his cell was asleep, and considering his state Isaac decided he wouldn't have to wait long. It would probably take a while to chisel through the bars, but chances are he would be done with at least one end of the bars by the time the rations man made his rounds once again, and then perhaps he could use the second bar as leverage to pull the broken bar down.

In the meantime, Isaac would wait for his cellmate to doze off.

He would worry about the guards later.

[Cheshire]

The man was in fact, still asleep, even after the man had come with his bread. Isaac could begin work on the wooden bars of the natural prison for a while. It made little noise to cut deeper and deeper into the thick living branches. The small vysticchi would probably make an opening of sizeable proportions in only a few candlemarks. The right tool for the job was a priceless thing. Examining the blade closely, it was bladed with tiny saw-like serrations, and on one side of the weight was a leather pad, somehow adhered to one surface. Either for comfort of hand or less sound, it was truly poigniant to the situation. Obviously this tool had been forged from steel for a purpose, and if this was it, then someone must have been planning a prison escape a while back. Who was it originally for?

Isaac would have to decide how far to go with his exit making. If he were to make the whole all at once, he could get out sooner rather than later, but he might get out just in time for a meeting with the guards. If he stopped, wouldn't they notice the damage? What if it wasn't the supposedly kind man who had given him the tools? Added to all of that, was the man's sleeping schedule. How often did a madman sleep, and for how long?

[Isaac]

Isaac, though gaining confidence and independance bit by bit, was still paranoid. Though the man appeared to be asleep, he could never be sure as to what exactly the man was doing there and when he would wake. If Isaac completed the entire job in one night, there would be a good chance that he would be caught fairly quickly when the guards noticed the damage, since he would have to escape in the same night that he complete the job, and he probably would not have enough time to get away before the guards checked on the cell. The best way to escape would be to get out of the cell just after the guards had left, giving him enough time to get a good head start. But how?

Isaac thought for a little while. Then he remembered an old fable his father had told him when he was younger...

Once upon a time, there lived a wise king. His kingdom was vast and prosperous. This was due mainly to the efforts of his wise and able minister. The prime minister handled much of the court business and always gave good advice to the king, who respected him greatly and always trusted his words, as well as rewarded him for it.

Now, the queen had become somewhat jealous of the affection showered upon the minister. She wanted her brother, foolish though he was, to be appointed the post of prime minister. She appealed to her husband to get rid of his minister and appoint her husband, but he refused. However, when the queen threatened to leave the king, the king decided to put up a test. The one who passed the test would gain the rank of prime minister.

Each man would be locked in a room for a week with nothing but a large jug of water and a plate of seven rolls of bread. The men were allowed to drink as much as they wished, but at the end of the week, there still had to be seven rolls of bread left on the plate.

The days passed, and at the end of the week, the king went to check on the two men. When he opened the door to his brother-in-law's room, he saw a pale, sickly, thin man. The brother had obviously fasted for seven days, and, not being used to such hard conditions, it took a hard toll on him. However, when the king opened the door to the minister's room, he looked quite healthy as he presented the king with a plate of seven rolls of bread.

Even the king was amazed. "How did you do it?"

"Oh, it was simple, really. Every day, I ate about three-fourths of a roll, and then rolled the remaining bread into a ball and placed it onto the plate. You specified that there were to be seven rolls of bread, but you did not specify their size."

The scenario was not even close to being the same, but a similar principle could be used. Isaac could easily scrape away parts of each bar every day--just enough to leave only the front bark visible to the guards. In this manner, the bars would still appear to be of the same size and strength from the front, but would only be a thin shell of a hollow trunk behind the facade. He would essentially be tricking the guards into thinking there were thick jail bars there, when in reality there was only thin bark. Once the bars were thin and weak enough to be broken through with a blow from the body, Isaac could break through the bars of the cell and flee as soon as the guard had left.

But how long would that take? The sickly man in the corner would certainly have woken up by then...

Isaac ignored that possibility and set upon his work, being careful to shave each bar evenly.

[Lichen]

"...I ain't done nuthin'!" The man yelled with a start, jolting himself out of his near catatonic sleep and abruptly back into reality again. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes and making obnoxious smacking noises with his lips, he looked around and yelped at the sight of the vysstichi boy, backing up against the bars that Issac had been oh-so-carefully carving at for the past few hours. Issac could hear their chamber creak with the force of the man's weight. The man looked at him with wild eyes for a few minutes, then the terror faded and was replaced with a wariness that indicated an alertness that he hadn't had during most of Issac's visit. "Yer jus' a kid!" The man wasn't really talking to Issac, though he looked in that direction. He scratched his stubbled chin in a newly coherent confusion at this fact, and this alone delayed him from noticing the strange metal impliments in Issacs hands.

But it didn't take long for the man's eyes to wander over the curiousity sharing his cell, and to fall upon the tools Issac was too startled to hide. "'ey!" He said loudly. The volume seemed to be a part of his personality, not a call for the guards. "Wuz dat ya got der, boy?" He asked guardedly, rubbing his hands nervously together. The voice was somewhat quieter with the question, but not much.