Prefect's Office and Demiosian Gaol

[Saka Rosedl]

Prefect's Office

Situated just slightly off the exact centre of the town of Demios, it stood as one of the slightly more prominent buildings upon the volcanic isle – though, for all accounts, it was nothing spectacular.With neatly chiseled stones, the Prefect’s Office was, as it appeared, one of the more tidy and appealing building upon Demios. Their natural tone showed, a solemn yet practical grey, with any potential vines kept cleared. The blocks of stones stacked up to a moderate height – and whilst not exactly imposing, it still gave any onlookers the feeling of an adamant structure sitting proudly in its position, never desiring to move. Cross-bared windows, about a couple on each side of the rectangular building gave people strolling about on the outside a tiny peek of what would be within, though the space was usually just a tad bit too little to clearly discern the exact properties of the building’s interior. Everybody knew what this building was for.

A wooden board, with steel nails hammered into the stones, showed clearly enough what this building was. Blatantly did it read, “Prefect’s Office and Demiosian Gaol”. Odd – that last word seemed nonchalant enough.

A thin, but extremely enduring iron-studded door led into the Prefect’s Office interior. Whilst not exactly spartan, the room was built more for its practicability than for its aesthetic value. No plants were located in this relatively well-lit room, and indeed, it was well-lit even in the Darkening. A small, non-descript looking reception area opened up immediately beyond the door, with eight cushioned chairs allowing for guests to sit somewhat comfortably and wait for their turn. The wooden floor beyond the waiting area shortly led to the office itself, as a tall arch greeted whoever entered there.

A wooden desk, piled with assembled parchments of all sorts, stood. In the middle was a book, where all the records of prisoners and crimes were kept. Beside the desk was a sturdy bookshelf made of finely crafted oak, and whilst it did contain several copies of the Annarian Code, the law code of the Aelyrian Empire, it was empty for the most part. A set of quills and ink pot housing a contented pool of blue ink constituted his entire stationary set, and of course, along with blank papyrus stored under his desk. Upon the sturdy desk, stood a name-plate. Ebony toned, inscribed with a thin sheen of silver, it bore the name and his title – Saka, Prefect of Demios.

In the corner, a weapon rack stood, holding the last Prefect’s selected weapon of choice – two pointed, painful flanged mace stood, their languid flanged edges gleaming with a furious light waiting to be unleashed upon the dismal criminals upon the fiery isle.

To the right hand side of his office, stood a ominous-looking door. Steel-studded, heavily reinforced door, in fact – one that only had a couple of blackened crossbars to form a shiver-inciting window. No one in their sane minds would desire to enter that door – for it led to one of the most eldritch places of all in the island, the one place that the majority of the criminals cringe to even hear about. It led down... To the Goal.


Demiosian Gaol

Dim torchlight flickered, frequently feigning infidelity, provided the only source of rather pitiful illumination down the neatly hewn stone stairs. This place was, to say the least, rather dark and damp. The occasional scratching and rodents screeching be heard clearly.

Straight they went, not winding, and soon descended into the grim Gaol proper. Prison guards patrolled this compound, and although grim they seemed, not truly speaking to each other much, they kept their sanity – unlike some of the criminal counterpart, who, for the most part lost their grip upon their right state of minds. Upon their belt, hung a heavy, well-crafted mace of steel, the four outlying flanges of each weapon denoting death, or at least, memorable maiming, for anyone stupid enough to even have a thought to endeavour to liberate themselves from the punishment they deserved. Besides a mace, they each carried a serrated dagger, the gaps in the durable enough to snap a sword blade in two. If all else failed, however, they still knew the basics of a discipline of Zinn’Ka, Rhingorda, and would be able to suppress any of the more competent criminals down upon the ground. Truly – chances were that dim.

Straight iron bars constituted the barrier from the cells to the corridors. Prisoners, some utterly insane and gibbering to themselves, some despondent, bowing their heads in melancholy, perhaps plotting how to avenge their capture, or reflecting upon the crimes they committed, and others merely staring blankly at the wall, were locked safely behind those strong, reinforced locks of the cell doors. Occasionally, the tiny grey rodents would inconspicuously creep across the floors, their dark eyes staring upon the wretched souls contained within with pity, before scurrying off once more.

At the end of the long rows of underground dungeon cells, a small walkway branched off to the haven of the guards, their quarters, where they might be found socialising, relaxing or simply clearing their minds of the prison sheer grimness. A large square table stood in the middle, the wood dull from the dimness around – even if this place was the one that only truly shone. Cups and kettles stood in one corner, whilst stools were scattered about the room. To call it ‘somewhat disheveled’ would be rather accurate.

At the end of the main corridor, however, another flight of stairs, winding this time, led down to the deepest horrors of the Gaol. Only some of the guards, along with the captain of them, truly knew about the ground. Even the others of those in the right side of the law did not dare tread upon this ground. For anyone who tried to escape from here, trapdoors awaited at the feet, leading to a sharp, painful fall. Diabolical, curved and serrated steel teeth awaited underneath, greeting anyone who were foolish and unlucky enough to fall through, the teeth gleaming with hunger and malice, longing to taste the warmth of blood and flesh. Even worse, poisonous arachnids scurried in between those corrupted death spires, making sure that if the death was not swift, it would be slow and painful instead. Either way, death was guaranteed...

This part held the most serious of criminals, those who committed the most atrocious crimes upon the isle. If anything else, the only aspect which truly raged here was insanity. Even the best of them cringed upon hearing of this place, this dark, dank, diabolical level of cells. Death and insanity awaited here. If anyone was stupid enough to commit crimes...

OOC: Written by GM Hoplites, editted ever-so-slightly by GM Selene and editted by Saka