Tic opened his eyes slowly, head hanging limply forward. He was sitting, his back was against a freezing wall; the feeling mixed with a cold film of sweat about his body and cool temperature of the room. His clothes clung to him loosely, damply. He stared down to his shirt through the dimness of his blurred eyes, blinking them softly to clear his vision. For a brief moment, he was reminded of the small Sink chamber he inhabited, and was sure he'd fallen asleep while at work... but the feeling wasn't right; it was unwelcoming and alien.

He began moving his arms out before him, intent on stretching their aching muscles, but found them unable to move past his chest. The dull sound of chained steel rustled, and an immediate pressure was put against his wrists. He thrust his head up, suddenly void of all thought, and looked around; his body jerked with shock... his heart dropped out of his chest with an icy plummet that rippled through out his entire body, leaving his head with the familiar feeling of a numb pressure closing in.

Trapped. Chained. Caught. The words sped through his mind, slapped him painfully in the face, and rested uneasily in his stomach. His breathing became harsh as he stifled the urge to throw up, thinking of what was to become of him. His suddenly wet eyes darted over the room, no -- the dungeon. It was dark, still nighttime. The moons' light just barely reached the tiny window, casting long columns of moonlight upon the dungeon floor, and grimly void of light where the bars were silhouetted. He was alone.

But soon not to be. Low voices reached his ears and were gradually getting closer. Stifling his fear slightly, he listened.

"And he was the only one caught? All the rest were slaves?" a male voiced questioned.
"Aye. The rest fled into their hole before the collapse, unfortunately," another man responded.
"Ah, well. Larkin will have something to play with, 'less it be one of us."

The two men chuckled just outside the dungeon door. One of the men bid farewell, and a pair of footsteps moved away. Tic turned his face away from the door, glancing away into a dark corner, as the clinks of keys jangled. The door creaked open slowly and heavy feet entered the chamber. Tic kept his head turned away, chest heaving gently, not daring to look at the man.

The steps came closer and soon, a pair of bulky, armored legs could be seen out of the corner of his eye, standing just beside him. Something was placed on the dungeon floor, which was followed by a pregnant pause.

A rough hand suddenly caught Tic's chin, forcing him to turn and face the man. A thrill of fear ran down his spine as their eyes met. The man's eyes shined just a foot from Tic's face; hateful, dark, and full of malice. They glared at Tic, squinting and judging. An absolute feeling of terror and fear struck him as thoughts of what could happen to him began to infest his mind once more. He wanted to turn away from the man, his eyes watering at the prospect of his own horrific fate, but felt their gazes were locked.

"You're scum," the man growled, seemingly preparing to release all anger on Tic. He spit at Tic, tightening his grip on his chin. For another moment, they stared, and Tic suddenly felt all his feeling, all his emotion surface before him. It wasn't the numb sort of shock; it was a sharp and clear manifestation of fear, and he could barely contain it. But before he could let out a long-awaited wail of despair, the man threw his chin away from him, grasping his own face with a yelp of agony. He tore at his skin, falling to his knees, letting out gasps and screams of pain. The platter of food was spilled across the floor as a flailing arm hit it.

Tic gaped. The man's pain had abruptly stopped as it had started, but he laid on the ground, face shielded with his thick arms. Distant footsteps approached, responding to the man's yells. Tic felt, strangely, drained of some energy. He watched on with wide eyes as the steel door creaked open.