Shouting. Screaming. A blinding flash. Searing pain.
And then everything fades to black.
You try to lift your head, but it feels fogged and clouded. Your limbs feel heavy, and try as you might, you can’t seem to move them. Your throat feels parched and dry as you open your mouth to reply, and whatever you wanted to say is lost in faintest of croaks.
“I said wake up, yer good fer nothin’ slug!”
The command is emphasized with a boot applied to the small of your back, with just enough force to send you sprawling to the floor from the cot you were lying on. As pain lances through your body, you are prodded again.
“Las’ chance. Or yer gonna regret it.”
Forcing your eyes open in the gloom, the first thing you see is the stout woman looming over you with a stick raised threateningly in one hand. The second thing you notice sends a chill through your veins, even as you try to make sense of all that is happening.
The iron bars of a prison cell.
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Scenes played: 12
License: Community License