Gang pressed
Kingdom of Salos - Orb
3 months before Landfall in Arcadia
The large and heavy iron bars locked behind him as he limped to one of the corners of the cramped cell casting an eye on the other men chained like him.
The wooden walls had been etched with tally marks from other felons and prisoners before this latest batch. The rust on the window bars resembled the last moment of a summer sunset. Fittingly, outside the dim light of the summer sun filtered barely filtered through into the musky cell.
On the corner of the room opposite to where he sat a bull of a man looked at the newcomer intently as if appraising his next meal. He was a large dark-skinned man. His face scowled with hatred and contempt for the world around him. His body was riddled with scars. The scars on his back were thick and raised. Their red hue made one think they were recent. The guards probably had a bit too much fun inflicnting pain on this one.
"What did they do ya for?" He asked right away.
"Vagrancy." Came the newcomers reply.
"You know where we headed right?" He asked again louder this time so that everyone in the cell could hear his words.
The newcomer shook his head.
Outside the sounds of raised voices, moving crates and the groan of hulls lullying in the port filtered inside the confined space.
"Ya been gang pressed, pale man." he grinned. "They sending us to die out there in the Sea o' Storms..."
He looked down at his feet for a moment. He put his hands out and began to look at them as if he was looking for somethinng he had lost. They were calloused like stones. His voice trembled, " I have been out there before, ya know. The waters turns to ice druing Winter. Huge floating mountains of the stuff that can snap a boat into kindle in the blink of an eye."
One of the other man, a young blonde boy, whispered "Cambena is a cruel mistress."
The dark-skinned man sneered and spat on the floor.
"A pox on the Pillars." he growled. "The guards are saying the expedition is travelling to find a lost continent to the West." he looked around the other prisoners. "And guess who is going along for the ride, to unfurl their sails, scrub their decks and wipe their royal arses?" he laughed bitterly. ""And when they run out of food and water with no land in sight, they will turn to us and feed on our bodies, offering our souls to their gods."
The newcomer saw near the entrance the dried blood from the prisoners who refused to work that day, turning black in the fading daylight. His vision blurred for a a few heartbeats. "We will not die at sea..." he said ominously.
"Look here boys." The dark skin man said laughing. "We're saved! Pale man here is going to deliver us to newfoundland."
"Not me. But my God." came the confident reply. The newcomer seemed to grow in stature as he spoke.
"Fuck the Pillars and those that speak for them." the scarred man said getting ready to get up, spoiling for a fight.
The newcomer pulled the shirt from his body and all eyes fell on the tattoo on his chest.
"I speak for the one true God. The first. The one that makes the seasons turn and whispers life into the world every Winter." he said locking his eyes with the dark skinned man, he hesitated at the steel in the man's words and gaze."
"I speak for Slivikhi, the Boar of Winter..."