Storm of the Usurper
In the distance, you hear someone calling out, rousing you from…this. What is… this? Nothing here is familiar, in fact all that is around you is a thick, impenetrable fog with the occasional shadow. Frantically you stumble towards the voice that seems so dire. It pleads with you to come to it, but it’s as if the fog is slowly devouring you. As you struggle the voice becomes more urgent, and at last you break free from the gloom.
Slowly, your eyes focus. Where am I? Looking around you realize that you’re in a large cell among others. Groggily, you try to piece together the situation and realize you have no knowledge of how you’ve come to be here or who the others are. In fact, you’re not entirely certain who you are- not entirely. You can’t help but feel part of you is missing…
Getting your bearings, you see others here. A few stirring much as you are, but most are strangely animated? Some repeatedly do the same thing over and over. One is banging on a wall, creating a rhythmic drum that almost lulls you. Another claw at the bars, to how long you can only imagine as their fingers are ground down to the bone from the sharpened barbs running along the bars. Some sit fixated on a point in space to which you can only imagine. It’s as if a single impulse has become their only semblance of life for the lot.
In a relieved tone, the voice speaks again.
“There is much to explain, but that must wait. I am only able to speak in this way for a short time before I am found out. There is one here who will aid you. Help her to free me so we might escape!”