The Planes are Broken

Life In Prison

Waking up is hard to do.

A small cold, damp and gray cell greets your opening eyes. A thin beam of light cuts through a window set at the end of a sharply angled 3′ × 7″ tunnel in the upper wall of the room. The cell is about 6’ across. It looks to be constructed from ancient gray cobblestone brick. In one wall is a massive steel door with a thin slits at the top and bottom which appear to slide open and shut from the outside.

As your eyes become accustom to the half light you realize that you are not alone. Scattered across the floor (and indeed atop of one another) are several other humanoid shapes. It is difficult in this light to determine their races or genders.

A cold plate of mushy gruel lays at the foot of the door, slopily spilled across the hard packed dirt of the floor.

You are starving, naked, and very very cold..


waggonernathaniel waggonernathaniel

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