[color=a187be][center][h1]Eudaxia[/h1][/center][/color]

Eudaxia's awareness returned gradually. First there was the throbbing. It felt as if her heart had decided to squeeze itself into her head to try and awaken her with its pounding beat. Then a sharper pain in her leg as feeling returned to her extremities. She made a feeble attempt to move, but couldn't do more than wriggle. She was locked in a stock. She hung limply on her knees in the rough wood's grasp, her entire body aching with the strain of the position. She could feel swelling in beftween her horns where she must have been knocked out by the guard.

Groggily opening her eyes to slits, she turned her attention externally, taking in the dim light of her surroundings. The first thing she noticed was that the chamber she was in was far from quiet. Opposite her were cells crammed to the brim with rowdy people emanating a stench of sweat and filth, which overflowed their contents onto chains that hung from the walls. She wasn't alone in the stocks either. She turned her head, hearing the clinking of the irons around her ankles behind her as she struggled. A fiery haired dwarf was constrained on her left, and she could make out the distinctive ears of a half-elf on the prisoner to her right. Both hung limply like she did.

A slow fear began to creep into her chest as she processed her situation. She was at the keep. In the belly of its dungeon. Crackling torches lit its dark walls, and she could spot a wrought iron door out of the corner of her eye on the left. Other than that there was no exit. The walls of interlocking stone were bare save for where they were draped in rusty iron chains. Despite her discordant lifestyle, she had never been dragged back to prison before, and every narrow escape and mad scramble through the streets had been fuelled by a secret dread of ending up in this place.

Now she was finally here. She supressed the feeling. It was useful on the outside, but not anymore. She had no idea what awaited her. She needed to weigh her options, but first she needed information.

"How long... have I been out?" she rasped towards the other prisoners. Her tongue felt thick and dry like sandpaper in her mouth. The dwarf turned to look at her, but said nothing. She tried again, her foggy mind beginning to tick, asking about how often the guard passed and her belongings. There was a chance he knew where they would be taken.

The Dwarf growled beside her. "Who the fuck knows, tiefling. The guards come when they feel like it. They can come anytime as far as I'm concerned and open this bloody stock!"

She lapsed into silence. Escape was impossible in her current state, even without the stock, she was too weak. But maybe there was a chance she could talk her way out of this. She ran over what had happened in the square again in her mind. If she could convince them she wasn't a magic user, there was a slim chance they would listen.

"What's the point. We're all going to die." The half elf beside her muttered. She could see he had a scar above one of his eyes now, which were wild, his gaze making her uncomfortable. Even restrained in his stock, he seemed jumpy and skittish.

"If they were going to kill us, they wouldn't have bothered with the stocks" she said firmly... but not entirely convinced. She shouldn't hang, not for stall pinching. But who knew what they would do to her. she was half surprised the brutes from the watch hadn't just thrown her into a gutter to bleed out. Just the thought of being at their mercy made her want to thrash and squirm in her stock until she was free, no matter the damage she would do to herself.

The sound of keys jingling came from the iron door at the end of the room. "Nerull is coming. He swallows the world. His shadow calls." The elf sobbed.

[i]what the hell[/i]. "Quiet" she hissed. Though his words gave her goosebumps. There had been much mentioning of demons this night. "get a grip man. what are you in for anyway?"

Only the iron door replied, its hinges complaining as they were swung open. A grey bearded man in a white robe strode in with a bad at his side, a guard lounging behind him. A relative silence came over the chamber as he approached the stockade, observing his three prisoners.

"Salutations. I am Wilo and I shall be your host during your stay. As you can see we are exceedingly busy for Founders Day, so you may be here for some time before the Lord's magistrate can hear your case. Until that time, be on your best behaviour and we will get along just fine." he said. There was something discomforting about the man, and it took Eudaxia a moment to put her finger on it. It wasn't that he spoke as if he were simply an innkeeper explaining the house rules. It was that he was very clean. Freakishly so. Despite working in a filthy dungeon, no grime soiled his white robe. His nails were neat and free of dirt. Even his long beard was combed and had no food in it. 

This was a man from a different world than Eudaxia, she thought. If she was lucky, he would also be free of its prejudices. "Please" she said. "I shouldn't be here. I was haggling with a merchant. They used me as a scapegoat!"

"Save it for the magistrate." Wilo replied coolly.

She hesitated, then changed tack. "The case... what will it involve?" she asked. She needed to know what chance she had. On the streets, few would trust a tiefling's word. She was trash. Nobles saw her as even more so. But from experience she knew some in higher society could be so sanctimonious it could override even that.

"First, let's see to your wounds." The man approached, kneeling down beside Eudaxia and pulling a small bottle from his bag. She could feel her leg sting painfully as he poured a clear liquid over it, wiping it away afterwards with a cloth, but the pain brought a kind of relief, and clarity. "An account will be given by the arresting officers and witnesses. The magistrate may or may not ask for your testimony. He will then determine your guilt."

"Shaemus, the Larethian Priest... he would vouch for me... He was with me that evening..." she said weakly. It was a gamble, since he knew she could do magic, but he might speak out for her.

The old man rolled up his sleeves, pulling out a needle and thread. He began stitching her wound. "I shall make a note of it."

"So how long will I need to rot here for?" she asked as he worked.

"Until the magistrate can see you. Likely until after Founder's Day" he replied, beginning to bandage her leg.

She couldn't wait that long. Founder's Day was too good a chance to make money. "But this guy won't stop going on about the shadow of Nerull... and I was just buying a walking stick for my friend... please..." she did her best to give him a pleading look.

he peered into her eyes, appearing to reach a decision. "We will get to the bottom of it, my dear. Do not fret. "he turned to the lethargic guard, wrapping the leg tight with bandages. "We will question her next. Fix her upon the rack in the morning." the old man said standing up, moving back towards the door and missing Eudaxia's expression of horror. "Good night one and all." he said as they disappeared behind the door, locking it with a resonating, final click.

[hr]

The night passed in slow agony. She tried to sleep, but between the half elf whispering his disturbing mantra to her right, and the accumulating pain of her bonds, she could not rest. The fate that awaited her come morning hanging over her, she spent the time in a kind of daze. Alternately raging and despairing over her predicament within the confines of her mind, as she went over the events of the night over and over. How it had all gone so wrong. The ones in the crowd who'd attacked her. The one who'd tackled her had used her magic. She was sure of it. What did that mean? What had he wanted from her? Her thoughts tumbled into confusion as she finally entered some parody of sleep.

The reprise of the door's hinges roused her from her stupor. She felt exhausted and afraid, but part of her was happy the wait was over. She managed to stand up as the two guards unlocked her stock, snatching the brief of moment to stretch and bring some relief to her protesting muscles. They weren't a pretty couple. One was short with a lazy eye. The other's face was almost entirely covered by a badly done tattoo. She didn't need to put much weight on her injured leg, as the guards then began to practically drag her from the room.

"Hope you had a good rest tiefling" Lazy eye said.

"Aye," tattoo smirked. "Wilo has a taxing morning in store for you, I'm sure." Eudaxia didn't reply, instead steeling herself for the trial ahead. Beyond the iron door lay a collection of empty cells, probably for more permanent residents. They went past these, through another door. This chamber somehow seemed darker. An old rack, also of iron, dominated the centre with the weight of its history.

Wilo was waiting for them. Both he and the room were unusually clean. "Strap her to the rack" he ordered, his face grim.

Eudaxia regarded the rack. "You don't even care about the truth do you?" she asked, afraid. If this man wasn't interested in her innocence, if he just wanted to hear a confession, then she didn't stand a chance.

The guards pushed her forward, tattoo gripping her horns with the same smug smirk as he pushed her backward onto the rack as lazy eye strapped in her limbs and waist. Wilo shook his head. "My dear, the truth is [i]all[/i] I care for. I take no pleasure in this, really."

"And I wonder how many poor souls have screamed confessions to things they haven't done in this room, to end their pain." she said, letting her anger surface to try and hide her fear. She regarded him defiantly. "Know however that I will not be one of them."

The gaoler sighed as he watched her being tied. "Torture serves two purposes, both as a deterrent to crime, and to surmise the truth. My methods are honed, I assure you. I can decipher the panicked cries of the desperate from that of the truth. I fear your confidence is ill placed. I've seen many a stout heart cave to my methods."

The bonds tightened. Eudaxia could feel her body being pressed against the cold iron, and her heart beating furiously in her chest. She could make only the tiniest of movements. [i]This is really happening.[/i] Wilo checked the bindings, pulling on them and checking for slack. He nodded to the guards, and they took their leave, the door slammed closed, sealing her in with Wilo. He sighed, his tone no less grim. "Alone at last."

The silence that followed was too much for her to bear. "Well?" she said. "Let's get this mockery of justice over with."

The jailer regarded her seriously. "I give you this one last chance to confess, my dear.... Did you attempt thievery upon the merchants of Hero's Square?"

Uncertainty filled her. Was this really worth getting tortured over? She couldn't know how they would punish her. She could end up a slave. But there was more than that. She didn't want to prove them right about her. "No." she said obstinately. "I was buying a gift for my friend."

His eyes narrowed. "Are you proficient with the use of magic?"

The question was unexpected so soon, but the one she wanted. He had looked into her case. The urchin gave a condescending laugh. "Do I look like a descendant of Godsbane's?"

The old man stroked his scraggly beard. "No, I suppose not." he said finally. "Yet there was some trickery you employed, according to witnesses. I will get to the bottom of it." She lost sight of him as he retreated into a dark corner of the room. [i]This is it, he's going to pull a lever and pull me apart on the rack.[/i] But that's not what happened.

It was far worse.

A collection of fine silver instruments gleamed from the case Wilo brought on his return. Knives, needles, screws and tiny saws. All very sharp and of course, all impeccably clean. He selected a long thin needle, its point reflecting the small amount of light in the room, and gazed down at her with what looked like pity, his gaze shifting to her hands. Her fingernails. "I really do wish this wasn't necessary". He said.

she sneered. "Admit it. It doesn't matter what I say. You're just as bad as the rest."

"I am but a servant of Haven, my dear. Not long ago I would have taken your hands. You should consider yourself lucky." he admonished. 

Then he got to work.

And Eudaxia discovered she could move vigorously on the rack after all.

Leaving the needle in its place, Wilo pulled out another. "Its okay to scream, my dear, in fact it may help to cope with the pain." He said exercising his dark craft one needle at a time.

"taken the hands... of an innocent... without evidence..." she pressed on stubbornly once he paused. "Just because nobody trusts my kind. Haven was supposed to be just for all... or do your gods hate tieflings too?" she finished with shaky breaths, holding on to the act. But it was only partly an act. This was the resentment she'd carried since childhood.

"Your kind are the spawn of unholy mingling of demons and mortals, tiefling" he said without mercy. "but I know your will is your own, and have a capacity to do good or harm... A shame you've chosen the latter. What is your name?"

"Eu...daxia" she whispered. He had spoken dispassionately. She believed him. He really took no pleasure in doing this to her. She hated him anyway for what he represented.

"Where were you born, Eudaxia?"

She shook her head against the pain. "I don't know... I was abandoned... I've lived in Haven all my life..." she answered in part honesty. Painful memories of her parents filling her mind, almost worse than the needles themselves in her vulnerable state. "this is none of your business! It doesn't have anything to do with anything!"

"Perhaps you're right. I am merely trying to get to know you, Eudaxia. The real you, that is. Even now, you're far too wilful. You will break. They always do." He shook his head. "You mentioned your Gods...." Pain exploded in her hands as Wilo began to twist his instruments free. "Tell me, what Gods do you worship?"

"I worship nothing!" she screamed, pain mixing with contempt. Even as she spoke, fear of the one from her dreams shot through her mind, but she kept the denial out of her voice. "The gods have done nothing for me. I still remember the light of the sun they took. I've been born the form of a monster... and those who follow their ideals have shown nothing but hypocrisy to me."

"Bitter and resentful of the Gods... Such was the way in Haven for a long time, but no more. Look where such an outlook has landed you, my dear Eudaxia!" The old man shook his head sorrowfully.

she managed to muster a sneer. "yet you torture me so piously. You're blinded by self-righteousness like all the rest." A morbid part of her told her she would never win, because the bastard would never have it in him to admit he was wrong about her.

"The truth lights my way, my dear. Gives me sight." The old man disposed of the needles in a clay bowl upon a table, looking back at Eudaxia, his eyes lingering upon her shaking thigh. "Let us see how your wound is faring." He kneeled down, gingerly unwrapping the bandages. "I am pleased to see its a clean wound."

she looked down at her leg. "I don't regret running." she said. "I'm no fool. Those guards would not have stopped to ask questions and find out what happened."

The old man moved back to the table, pulling a small knife and pincer from his case. "But you are a fool, or guilty, or both! For only they would flee if innocent." He kneeled down, griping the stitching thread with the pincer, and slowly undoing the stitch, opening the wound.

"Then you are deluded." she said scornfully. "The city watch are no paragons of justice. At least not to my kind."

Wilo paused in his work. "You're right. That I cannot deny... I still intend to get to the bottom of this."

"Tell me..." she egged on, sensing a chance. "How much coin did the watch turn over from me? I had 10 gold pieces to my name. and 250 silver from the very watch themselves. For crawling for rats in the sewers."

"I will ask the questions here." He punctuated the point with his knife, and she howled as it entered the wound. "Are you gifted with the use of arcana, Eudaxia?"

She reeled. She could resist the pain, but it made thinking so hard. "Well?" he said, twisting the knife deeper. "Can you wield magic?"

"I am no arcanist... I have no power... or education. I have only the tiny power all Tieflings have. To change the colour of their eyes or make their voice boom." she said, letting helplessness into her voice.

The old man scratched his beard... "So the mere unholy gifts you were born with, hmm? Perhaps." The old man retrieved more needles, and Eudaxia felt them all in her leg. One explosion of pain after another, making her body shake and shudder.

It was too much. She thrashed and screamed without restraint. [i]No. Please no. God. Stop. I can't take it any more.[/i]

Wilo struck, sensing weakness. "Did you attempt to rob the merchant?" he shouted.

Of course she had. She was guilty. But she had been innocent, once. It was this city that taken that from her and made her into what she was. And now it pinned her down, filling her with pain, punishing her for just trying to survive. She hated it. She [i]hated[/i] that tyranny. The little girl inside her that had been abandoned cried out for justice. Even if she really was a liar and a thief, she couldn't let them see her as one, just to prove those bastards wrong about tieflings, even if it was a sham.

"I wanted to buy a stick for my friend... in the sewers... he was kind to me..." she moaned.

Wilo sighed. "I believe there is truth in what you say... Yet you are holding something back. I know it." He pulled the pins free and closed up the wound before bandaging it. Eudaxia lay limply. She heard a banging on the door seconds later. "I'm done here!" It opened, and the two guards step inside, moving over to the rack and unfastening the straps.

Wilo's sharp eyes pierced into Eudaxia's hazy ones. "The magistrate will get a full report." I doubt you attempted any thievery, nor that you wield any arcana beyond that of your tiefling heritage. The magistrate will take it as he may. May justice prevail, and may you find the Gods yet, Eudaxia."

She made no response as she was carried away. She'd done it. She hadn't broken. She'd proved them wrong about her. It was a victory. It mattered.

That's what she told herself.