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#Post#: 3748--------------------------------------------------
Re: Tartarus
By: Mana Burn Date: November 7, 2018, 2:13 am
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So the group split.
Those with Thunder and a now annoyed Charybdis took the corridor
to the right where they soon met a sharp turn leading them into
another stretch of smooth stone. On the walls hung things of
varying relevance to the prison that they could inspect beneath
the glow of the orbs lighting the way. Among them were
photographs of ponies – one would guess them guards given their
dress - an illustration of a ceremony of which the purpose was
vague, and a few simple paintings of landscapes to break up the
monotony of the otherwise drab décor. Thunder gave them quick
glances as they walked while
Charybdis ignored them entirely.
Her focus was on the doors they passed by. Not a one was left in
peace as she demanded to know the purpose of every room they
found. Given that there were seemingly no guards on patrol
within this hallway she suffered no consequence as she pulled
back each door in turn and stole cursory glances to get a quick
picture. One was a closet sporting brooms, sparsely populated
shelves of bottles and boxes, and a stained ring on the floor
giving off a sterile smell that she figured would make her dizzy
if she got any closer. Moving on she found next a bathroom that
held no surprises, then a small space with little more than a
table and a few simple chairs and cushions for seating. While
these doors had all been silent, the next, cracked and leaking a
soft sound of music, gave hints of life beyond.
Checking this door finally revealed the rec room and the small
host of ponies within spending their time doing whatever. Three
were gathered around a card table. They mumbled raises and folds
as their drawn hands of playing cards decided and tapped at
smoldering cigarettes while clinking bits into play. A lazy
clack drew attention to a solo and dreary eyed stallion at a
pool table knocking about the billiard balls with no apparent
goal. In the corner was a record player crackling jazz while a
mare sat snuggled up on a comfy looking chair flipping through a
book. Aside from all this there was a couch, a small bookshelf
and what looked like cupboards set on a wall behind a counter
towards the back. The wall on the right caught Charybdis’ eye as
well as she noticed it didn’t reach all the way across the room
and instead ended some two meters or so short.
Deciding to investigate, Charybdis would break from Thunder here
while he would only give the rec room a quick glance and move on
in hopes of finding the canteen. Stepping inside, Charybdis
immediately drew the attention of all those inside, activity
ceasing for several seconds as they stared then exchanged
glances. Apparently trying to play it off, the ponies inside
would go back to what they were doing while not so subtly side
glancing her and anyone else’s way with poorly masked suspicion.
Ignoring the occupants, Charybdis confidently strode forward,
tossing a quick look over towards the back corners of the room
as she went to check for anything she missed. Reaching the gap
in the wall Charybdis found it indeed led to more room. Another
room entirely in fact. A locker room, the state of which caused
her to raise an eyebrow. Several long rows of lockers lined and
filled the room as anyone would expect, but the lockers
themselves were left looking like their contents were
haphazardly stuffed inside. Numerous examples had their doors
hanging wide open, and pieces of armor and various items
decorated the benches and floor.
Tilting her head, Charybdis spotted a door on the back wall
leading even further as well as a canvas laundry cart
overflowing with laundry just beside it. Squinting, she thought
for a moment that some of the clothes looked a little too rigid
to be fabrics as they sported hard angles and corners. She’d
would need to get closer to learn more, but she was reluctant to
do so given her inexperience with the area. Instead she looked
back into the rec room, the new position she was in allowing her
to see behind the counter towards the back. There she could see
a garbage can, again looking to be overflowing, this time with
what looked to be snack wrappers and junk.
She gave a soft hum just before noticing that everyone in the
room was looking at her. They did so from the edges of their
vision, but as soon as she spotted them, they all quickly looked
away. Well all but one of the ponies at the card table who
instead continued to stare her down staring her down.
“… What?” she demanded to know.
“Are you lost?” the stallion asked her, the rest of the table
watching her, “Do you need help finding something?”
Charybdis narrowed her eyes at the stallion then glanced at the
table, the bits in play, and his current hand.
“I’m fine,” she harrumphed as began walking towards the door,
“Just focus on losing your money.”
“Wha-I-hehe… I-I don’t know what she’s talking about…” The
stallion attempted to save while his friends grinned like
sharks.
---
Meanwhile, Thunder had kept on truckin’ along in search of his
promised lunch. Trotting down the hallway he’d continued to give
vacant glances toward the hung images and art up until he neared
the end of the hall entirely and without any meals found.
Worried he’d been duped and that there was in fact no food, he’d
struggled to not show his brief panic attack just as the smell
of something cookin’ caught his nose. The nearest door sported a
small hand-crafted sign above it that simply read “Eats!” and
had been decorated with an absolutely overjoyed little cartoon
face next to a sandwich. Thunder had never felt a connection
with anything else in his life more than he did with this sign.
“Oh, thank Celestia!” he said with an exaggerated sigh, speaking
as if he’d just survived a trek through a desert with no water
and had just spotted an oasis, “Praise the sun! Glory be! The
goddesses provide and such!”
He grinned back at the others then looked down at the remaining
length of hallway. There wasn’t much left, the remainder so
short that he could see around the coming corner from where he
was standing. There he saw a stallion like those he’d seen at
the door, fully armed and presumably on duty. Thunder’s ears
swiveled towards the stranger as he heard a muffled voice and
noticed that they had been holding a hoof near to their lips.
Assuming it was a comment about him (because who ELSE could they
POSSIBLY be talking about when HE was around?) he struggled to
listen for a follow up but was disappointed when the stallion
lowered his hoof to a satchel on his belt without a word. There
he seemed to drop some small object inside the satchel before
leaning against the walls and crossing his front hooves. Thunder
only saw it for a split second but would have bet at least half
of the sandwich on the sign that it had been giving off some
kind of light. For a moment he wanted to ask about it, but the
stone-cold stare he was getting from the stallion was starting
to make him uncomfortable, so he instead decided to head into
the “eat” room.
Thunder was happy to find that the cartoon face outside hadn’t
been lying and that this was indeed the food room. The room
opened into a cafeteria with the serving tables being to the far
left followed by a wide window and open door leading to what
Thunder assumed would be the kitchen. Benches and tables were
placed around the room to allow maximum capacity without getting
in the way, and a few ponies sat here and there with trays both
empty and occupied. A lot of trays actually. Too many trays. Why
were there so many trays? And why were they dirty? Thunder would
never pretend like he was the kind of person to wash his dishes
regularly, but even he was surprised to find that some tables
were cluttered with abandoned trays and utensils like dumping
grounds for dishes.
Nearest the door was a stallion munching on what looked like
roasted vegetables, the smell Thunder had no doubt noticed in
the hall, and Thunder tilted his head at how it looked like he’d
simply pushed aside the cluttered refuse and dishes to make room
for himself.
“Hey, uh…” Thunder approached him and tried to spark an
exchange, the stallion looking in his direction with obvious
boredom followed by mild surprise when he failed to recognize
the pony speaking, “What’s, uh… What’s cookin today?” Thunder
asked with a jerk of his head towards the serving tables on the
far left of the room. Being this close, Thunder noticed a number
of the trays looked not only dirty, but dry, like they’d been
there for a while.
Without speaking, the stallion looked at Thunder like he was an
alien asking what food was entirely. He shrugged and pointed
towards the kitchen then slowly resumed his chewing. Thunder
gave a forced smile then backed away slow. Spinning on his
hooves, he beelined for the kitchen as his tummy loudly demanded
to be satiated. Reaching the serving tables, Thunder saw that
they were on but empty and, like with he trays, in need of a
good wash. Disappointed, but not deterred, he passed them and
headed for the kitchen itself.
He didn’t notice the smell until he was already several strides
into the kitchen. It wasn’t horrible, but it was noticeable. A
mix of garbage and old food left out far too long. He’d been
blind to it when he trotted directly for the cupboards but there
were numerous bags serving as the sources of this smell. Piled
in a corner and ignored, they sunk into each other and leaned
against the walls furthest from the entrance. With a few slams
of wooden cupboard doors, Thunder eventually was heard giving
long sad sigh.
“This place is tapped!” he said, going from reaching up into a
cupboard to falling back onto his rump, a small bag of peanuts
being ripped open and poured directly into his mouth. He munched
them down and tossed the bag over his shoulder with a pout.
“Where are all the cookies, potato chips, fruit, bread, candy,
cakes, drinks, and… and… Man, I never realized how beautiful the
castle’s lunch room was until now…” He sounded legit depressed
as his mind ran with the thoughts of all the foods back home, “I
guess what they say is right. You really don’t know what you got
until its gone.” Being hit with a second wind, Thunder sprung to
his hooves and rushed to the window overlooking the cafeteria.
‘Where’s all the food!?” he shouted at the scattering of
occupants. They exchanged looks before one answered.
“There’s probably still a bunch of rice and potatoes in the
pantry! Maybe some hay?”
“Wheres all the GOOD food!? And where did he get carrots!?”
Thunder shouted more questions.
“These were the last ones!” The carrot muncher replied.
“How could you!? I’m going to starve here!”
---
“If you would just follow me then,” the stallion from the door
said, motioning for Mana and Foxtrot to follow him down the left
hall while the rest took the right. Mana nodded and followed,
both he and Foxtrot being led further inside the first level of
the prison and passing the occasional other pony who would side
eye them as they went by. It was explained to them by the
stallion that this area was the section of the level reserved
for offices and administrative work, the doors they passed often
being accompanied by a nameplate to make it clear which office
belonged to who and the general décor being a mark better than
what the rest of the group would have found on their end. Nicer
paintings, better landscapes, and stuff that looked like it was
worth something made the walls feel far less spartan. Honest to
whatever god you favor, they even found a vase set on a pedestal
and a couple of statues decorating an area cut wider into the
surrounding stone than the rest of the hall. It was a sort of
entryway that led to a library if the stallion was to be
believed and Mana had to fight the urge to detour as his
curiosity demanded to make time for a peek at least before he
left.
A couple minutes of casual walking later and they closed in on
the warden’s office. A larger more ornate door befitting the
entrance to the room of the one in charge was the first
giveaway. A deep brown in color, the doors were trimmed in gold
and decorated with images of creatures and people carved
directly into their face with an almost silly attention to
detail as they carried out a scene of struggle and co-operation
as the characters involved worked together to hold up what
appeared to be pillars supporting the cavern above them. The
doors looked heavy, expensive, and made of some kind of wood
that Mana could not immediately recognize. Despite being in a
prison, he couldn’t help but feel like he was about to enter
into some kind of fancy mansion or noble’s foyer.
“Wow,” he commented with a whistle, “Those look expensive. How
old are they, do you know?”
“Huh? Oh,” as if he’d not even noticed them, the stallion looked
up at the doors then back at Mana with a shrug, “No idea.
They’ve, uh… Heh… Been here longer than me. That’s all I know… I
guess they do look expensive, don’t they…?” He hummed and seemed
to appreciate the doors while Mana noticed that there was no
nameplate beside this door. He considered asking the stallion
the name of the warden, but they were already literally at his
door, so he decided instead to just wait until he could meet the
stallion himself.
“Anyway, this here is the main guy’s room,” the stallion said,
shaking himself from his distraction and returning his focus to
the ones following him, “just a word of warning that he can
sometimes have a temper and that he doesn’t like to share so
don’t ask. Seriously, don’t.”
“I don’t follow,” Mana said, confused as to what he meant. All
he got was another shrug as the stallion’s interest seemed to be
rapidly waning.
“You shouldn’t keep him waiting.” He informed both Mana and
Foxtrot, Mana glancing back at Foxtrot with a raised eyebrow
before realizing, several seconds later, that they apparently
were meant to let themselves into the office. Feeling they’d
wasted enough time as it is, Mana looked mildly annoyed as he
took it upon himself to push the doors open and stepped up for
the job. As heavy as they looked but not as difficult to move as
he’d expected, the doors slowly swung open to reveal the room
beyond.
Sizeable. Furnished. Luxurious compared to the rest of the
prison they’d seen so far. And surprisingly messy. The room
opened up wide with the ceiling reaching twice as high as that
of the hallway outside. Boasting fine carpet and walls of
paneling to imitate a wooden interior, the almost dome shaped
room was going for and succeeding in a warm and welcoming
atmosphere. Large bookcases were situated against both the
eastern and western walls. Areas for sitting and reading were
evident with sperate furniture taking up space in a quit spot
away from the door. A cabinet was proudly displayed with the
tray, bottles and glasses set atop making its purpose – and
recent use – clear. A large and fancy desk was situated on a rug
towards the center of the room. Before it were two armchairs and
behind it was one that put the others to shame. Even further
beyond was something Mana was not expecting at all.
The back wall of the room looked like it had three very large
windows stretching from the floor to the ceiling. The view was
gorgeous. It had to have been magic - it obviously had to have
been considering where they were - but the sweeping view of
hills, grassland, edges of forest and a very clear river gave
the impression of seeing a very real landscape from a high
vista. “Natural” light flooded the room and lit everything fully
and clearly, from the furniture, to the earth pony stallion
sitting in front of the center window, a file splayed out on an
end table beside him as he appreciated the view.
His coat was a dark brown while his mane, very short as if it
had been buzzed into a crew cut several weeks prior, was a very
dark green edging close to full on black. He wore a light olive
colored jacket with the frayed fabric indicating a loss of the
sleeves that used to be present and on one side of his body hung
a satchel bag while something metal on the other side glinted in
the light of the windows.
Entering further into the room, Mana approached the desk and
could hear the stallion speaking. Noticing that one of his
hooves was raised near his face, Mana’s ears strained to pick up
what was being said.
“…tychick. Keep watch on the rest,” the voice was rough and
raspy, like someone who gave orders frequently and loudly,
“Double up on the stairs. Wide berth. No tours. No noise. No
exceptions.” That seemed to be it for now. The stallion lowered
his hoof afterwards and Mana saw him fiddle with his satchel
bag. The light of the window kept him from spotting exactly what
he had done with it, but whatever it was took a mere second or
two to complete. Then he closed the file he’d been reading and
got up to turn and face his guests.
He looked mean. That was the first thought that came to Mana’s
mind when he saw the stallions face. It was harsh and seemed
creased in a way that suggested scowling came easy to him. A
scar stretched from the left side of his jaw down near his
throat and his hazel eyes seemed to look right through you and
at something else inside. Mana’s eyes flicked from the stallion
to the file on the end table near the window then down at the
desk where he noticed many more, some open and scattered and the
rest organized into three separate stacks. Papers, sketches and
photos mixed on the table and a sweating glass of amber liquid
and ice rested atop a hopefully unimportant page where it left a
wet ring.
“This is rare,” the stallion spoke in the same rough voice and
carried it across the room with ease as he drew nearer, a soft
jingle type sound catching Mana’s ear as he walked, “Getting
visitors has always been unusual for us here given how tricky it
can be pinning down our location, and Guardsmen are even fewer
since most of you seem to go out of your way to avoid us.
Normally its family we deal with coming to visit inmates. The
wealthy ones anyway. Seeing you guys tends to make us nervous,
to be honest. It usually means something is wrong.”
“While it isn’t our intention to make you or your men nervous,”
Mana replied, craning his neck enough to see a box of yet more
papers and envelopes on the carpet around the corner of the
desk, “I’m afraid that, if what you say is true, our visit may
be more routine then I expected.”
“That’s a shame,” the stallion said, reaching the chair opposite
the pair and taking a seat, the windows framing him with a sky
that shouldn’t be there. Now that he was so near, Mana could see
what had made the jingling and the glinting from earlier. A coil
of chain was secured to the hip of the stallion, a metal ball
dangling from the center and lightly brushing against the chain
as it settled from the stallions movements. Beneath the coil
Mana spotted something else, a short but viciously curved blade
arcing from a wooden handle. To see the warden armed, and with a
chain and sickle no less, caused the corner of Mana’s mouth to
raise in confusion. “I was hoping this would be a mere check to
make sure we were still kicking. I was willing to host and maybe
even break out a game or two. I’m sure there’s a chessboard
around here somewhere.”
“Sorry, not today,” Mana apologized, shaking off what he’d seen
for the time being and moving on, “You already know this I’m
sure, but my name is Mana Burn, and this is Foxtrot,” he
introduced himself and his friend with a nod, “Royal Guardsmen,
here on business. Urgent business.”
“Uh-oh,” the stallion picked up the glass that had been staining
the papers and swirled its contents as he leaned back in his
chair, “Urgent sounds bad. Well, Mana Burn and Foxtrot, my name
is Bushwhacker, and I am the acting Warden of Tartarus.
Welcome,” he casually swept his free hoof outwards, “to my
prison.” He sipped his drink and watched his guests for a moment
before continuing.
“Now… What can I do for you?”
#Post#: 3749--------------------------------------------------
Re: Tartarus
By: Foxtrot Date: November 7, 2018, 8:59 pm
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Foxtrot gazes around the office once the two enter. The layout
was impressive, the background in the window was certainly a
nice touch. However, they're here for business, not a tour. When
asked why they were here, the stallion steps forward. "Sir, we
just traveled from Weaver; a small town on the outskirts of
Equestria. Weaver... was attacked, by a giant cyclops. The whole
town was destroyed before it was taken down. This beast was
teleported right into the town square. After we've pacified it,
we found it was supposed to be locked up here, in this prison."
He pauses to think about how to resume, "We're hunting down the
group responsible. Since this creature was imprisoned here, we
want to know if there was any recent incidents you or your
troops may have run into. If not, maybe any changes in staff,
routine, anything that sticks out?" Foxtrot did want to suggest
that there may be foul play, but since there is no proof,
there's no reason to bring it up... yet.
#Post#: 3750--------------------------------------------------
Re: Tartarus
By: Nivalia Date: November 11, 2018, 8:23 pm
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When Nivalia follows the others to the mess hall, she's taken
aback. The filth! The trays! Everything! She nearly reels back
at the sight of it all. "Sweet Luna..." Trotting in, she eyes up
the crusty trays, messy kitchen, and overall squalor of it all.
That... and there's no food. There was rice and potatoes; a bit
bare bones, but it is something she could work with. Not asking
for permission, she joins Thunder and pats his shoulder, "Don't
worry dear. I can whip up something for you. But first, I gotta
clean this place." Her horn glows, Thunder is lifted through the
window and sat down at one of the tables.
A rubber band is pulled from her bag, which is settled in the
corner. Mane tied up, the real work begins. Hot water blasts
down the sinks as drawers are slammed open. They're shut closed
except those with soap and cleaning supplies. The trays, all the
trays, lift up in a greenish glow and flow one by one over to
her. Each one is then soaked in the steaming water, spun at
incredible speeds as a scrub firmly presses down on them with
soap before finally stacked on a counter that itself was wiped
clean. Nivalia herself hums and sings to herself as she pulls
out the rice and potatoes. The coming is done by hoof as the
cleaning is all automatically done with her magic.
Spices, seasonings, salt, pepper, and even a few herbs from her
bag are scooped up and placed on the counter in front of her. By
now, half of the mountain of trays are already done. The
remaining hay is tossed in a boiling pot and set to simmer. The
kitchen, and dining area by now, smells of fresh cooking.
Nivalia at this point is outright singing, though the language
certainly isn't ponish. Another few minutes and the last tray is
done; wiped dry and warm, it sits in front of the hungry guard.
"Almost done, sweetie. I'm getting the hay glaze ready for the
potatoes. I was able to find some beans in the lower counter.
Don't know why they're next to the bleach. Still good though!"
With a swish, a fresh, warm tray slides over to Thunder.
Seasoned rice and beans are topped with oven baked potato
wedges. The wedges glisten with a sweetened hay glaze. Nivalia
herself walks out with a tray. There's still enough for a few
more hungry mouths if they want. "I've had more than a few
nights working with bare bones for a meal. Just gotta do what ya
can." Sitting down, she digs in and enjoys.
#Post#: 3751--------------------------------------------------
Re: Tartarus
By: Faded Glory Date: November 18, 2018, 8:02 pm
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Glory hangs back as they head off through the halls, stopping to
examine a few of the pictures and keepsakes before hurrying to
catch up. The doors Charybdis snoops in don't hold much
interest, and Glory can't help but feel this is all just a bit
mundane for a place like Tartarus. The rec room proved to be
much the same as any she'd ever been in herself, once Charybdis
finds it. She follows Charybdis in as the others continue on,
wrinkling her nose at the smell of cigarette hanging in the air.
Things seem fine here, but there are at least three
monster-summoning terrorists running around in here somewhere
and it seems prudent to give the griffin some backup. Even if
Glory doesn't really trust her much. She wanders over to the
record player while Charybdis goes to investigate whatever's
behind the wall partition. Seems like they have decent taste in
music at least. She'd have liked to take a look at whatever's
behind that wall herself, but it'd be even weirder than it
already is if two strangers were snooping around. She waits a
few moments as Charybdis heads for the door, then follows her
back out into the corridor. "Find anything interesting? Glory
asks once they're out. "What are you looking for anyway?"
#Post#: 3752--------------------------------------------------
Re: Tartarus
By: Equilibrium Date: November 24, 2018, 4:47 pm
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Equilibrium followed the rest of the group to the kitchen area,
trying her best to make mental notes of her surroundings, but so
far, there wasn't much to note on. Getting to see this high
security prison's feeding area didn't raise any hopes for things
to get better, as the mess was bad. Really bad. She gave way to
the seemingly work-a-holic changeling, who barged into the
kitchen, and instead began to munch on some rations she had with
her, keeping her ears perked for any juicy details the guards
might slip out.
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