Prisoner Three Hundred and Sixteen

The stale taste of stagnant water and old bland hardtack linger upon my tongue from the “meal” I had hours ago.  As I lay in my blanketless bunk and stare at the featureless gray stone ceiling above me, my mind drifts.  Memories of the lust of battle, the desires to allow chaos to flow through you and become the monster of the battlefield, the lamentation of the women of my foes, and similar flood through my mind as sleep would not visit me.  One thought slips from my mind to my lips, 'How the fuck did I end up here...?”

~Some unknown amount of time before~

The air thickens with an electrical presence before an eruption of flames born of magic appears and slams into the flank of a battalion of charging Gold Dwarves.  Some are instantaneously burnt alive in their armor as they are flung back into their fellows whilst more others suffer slower deaths.  This of course disrupts a portion of the charge's might – however, surviving scorched and untouched continue with renewed purpose toward our front lines.  The roars of their battlecries bellow forth and are met with our own as we brace with shield and spear.  With a deafening clash akin to thunder echoes throughout the battlefield and darkness that surrounds us in this forsaken land as the two forces collide with one another.  Foe impaled and friend trampled, the battle quickly spirals into a pandemonious melee.

Explosions of flame and magic erupted across the field of battle as the melee begins to engulf the remaining forces on both armies.  Spearheading through the shattered front lines, a small group of Grey Dwarves begin to carve through lead by a small squad of the blood drunken wearing little in way of armor and wielding axes, spears, and mauls.  Roaring as if possessed or beasts of battle themselves, these berzerkers hack and smash any that stand before them, spreading death as they act vanguard to a battalion.  These creatures of war fought nearly mindlessly as they cut down and gored whoever stood infront them, their rage filled their bodies with motion and power as even the dead among them didn't know it yet and continued to battle.  I counted myself among these monsters and relished in this lust of carnage that filled us and employed the rage that guided my desires against the Dwarves.  These fools came to reclaim something that no longer was theirs, earnt to us by our blood and sweat and now they die for their attempted theft.

As we cleaved a bloody path through with the goal to section the Dwarves from themselves, a third unidentified force joined the fray and began to tear at both our peoples.  The host of this third army was a menagerie of creatures and Humanoids and it did not matter if it was Dwarf or Duergar, they attacked and killed us both where we stood.  The battle became a clusterfuck as the two initial armies now found themselves flanked and increasingly outmanned as many were slew in the chaos.  My companions and I thrilled at the chance to kill more leap right into these new foes and slaughtered forth.  While it is true that the Duergar do not know true joy or pride, it could be argued in those moments we did as our weapons drunk deeply of our enemies and those among us that fell did so in glorious battle.

The masterminds of the third army's attack could finally be seen on the edges of the battle as Illithids came to direct their troops more directly and intricately.   Withdrawing their forces to muster up another massive assault.  This lull would be the downfall of these mindfulness.  Seeing as there was no other alternative to survival and winning, the Dwarves of the Gold Army and the Duergar of the Steel Army agreed to join forces.  The surviving numbers would only equate to roughly the size of one of the initial armies, but together they stood a snowball's chance in the nine Hells opposed to none at all.

During these quick restructuring, my squad began to come off their battle high.  The dead among us fell flat to the ground to never move again, whilst others grumbled and slammed their weapons against the nearby carcass in annoyance that they were back to the stale reality that they fled from.  Our commander barked orders to behave and be ready for the next offensive, but that did little to alleviate the tension and anxiety flooding my companions' minds.  More seasoned than my fellows, I sat and sharpened the faces of my axe and focused on controlling the last moments of rage fleeing my body.  That is when I heard it.

At first it was a distant dull ringing of a large bell, such as a temple's.  I looked about but none other seemed to notice it, my mind wondered if the damned Illithids were playing tricks but another ringing sounded yet this time closer.  With a narrowing of my eyes I stood with axe in hand and prowled about looking, my commander shouting at me to calm down and sit.  One of my fellows roared back at him and hurled a goblin corpse at him, causing the two to fight with more jumping to stop them.  Meanwhile, ignoring them I sought out this bell – which sounded again but this time it was so loud that it seemed ontop of me.  With a roar of pain I fell to my knees and held the sides of my head, my axe slamming against the ground next to me.  The painful ringing continued until all drew black.

Water falling on me stirred me wake and I rose to my feet.  Bewildered I looked about, water falling from the sky....green stuff growing under my feet, where in the Hells am I – I thought.  Making my way up across the green stuff and rocks I reached the peak of this hill or mountain, I knew not, and saw a vast sea of black before me.  Was this still the Underdark or is this what the surface looks like?  How did I get here?  These thoughts and more flooded my mind until the sky began to erupt with electricity and lightning struck about, something I had only seen from the actions of wizardry and sorcery. Amazed by the displays, thinking them magical, I warily glanced about for the source of these spells.  Then something in the water moved.

Gaining my undivided attention, I beheld the massive beast arise from the dark waters.  As I watched a smile began to form on my face, something not familiar to me and I could feel the tension in my face's muscles.  Laughing, I knew now that I was in the afterlife and this was my reward, I was given a great beast to battle – life or death mattered not in this moment, just the thrill of the bloodlust.  With a roar I charged forth and dived toward the black water.

With a stinging jerk to my head, I awoke with a mask staring at me in the face.  Soon I realized I was chained and with a roar I tried to break free to have the action answered with a crack across the back by something stiff, a metallic edged punch to the gut, and a backhand to the face.  Once more darkness crept back into my mind and I awoke in a room made of gray featureless stone that hosted a series of bunks.  I was not alone, various people of various race, gender, and size were kept here – many showing signs of bruises, bloodied lashes, or scars of such.  Each bore a brand, a slave mark, upon their face – something I knew I could look forward too and likely soon.  Unlike the majority, I remained chained.

A brand was placed upon my face over my left eye, just shy of my nose, and down to my chin – singeing my beard hair for a bit.  I would not forgive that sin against my beard.  I was given a number, “Prisoner Three Hundred and Sixteen,” not that my name meant anything here either way.  My purpose was to mine for metal, or “shiny bits” as I was told and if I found any, I would be rewarded with actual meat.

For tendays if not months I toiled in the hard labor camp of this slaver.  Biding my time, learning patterns, and who might be of worth to join me – I labored with little resistance.  I knew my time was limited overall as we were fed meagerly with hardtacks and small bits of leftover stewed meat, if any at all, and water.  Extra meat for the rare finding of metal or gems, but rare indeed – these fools did not have any mind to the validity of the mine.  If I waited too long I would not be of strength to fight.  Finally the day came, the majority of the slavers were out leaving only a handful of guards.

With the sign given, my weak allies with tools in hand waited for my freedom to initiate their own and for the battle to come.  I threw my tool to ground and demanded food, the guards came to do as they would always with a disobedient slave and readied their clubs to punish me.  Roaring with all my might as I unleashed my rage, I managed to break links of the chain holding me down.  Now freed I whipped the chains at a guard, lashing him across the face and sending him to the ground.  As the other guards moved to attack, my allies freed of their own chains began to hurl stones and tools at them.  Lifting up my pickax I rushed our wardens.  Grabbing the only Dwarf guard by his beard, I ripped a handful out before braining him.  My beard avenged.  They were not well-trained and could not stand against someone actually capable of fighting, lest one bloodlusted.  Their lifeless corpses laid to the testament of that as I rushed forward bashing at the gates holding us in, whilst the others freed the remaining slaves.

Our force rushed out into the Underdark, though something didn't feel right – as if it was not the same one I had dwelt in all my life.  Nonetheless, freedom was had and the slaves scattered into all directions seeking refuge.  I ran and kept running into the direction that felt right.  Hours, even days later I eventually came upon a settlement and thankfully so – hunger and thirst was about to take me and I passed out upon reaching the gates.

A Drow named Maw Maw would nurse me to health and vigor, a debt owed.  Otherwise I am now in this “Undervillage” or so it is referred to.  Purposeless and bored.  Perhaps I will seek to adventure.