Pyke Dungeon

[lordbalorgreyjoy]

Halon whistled cheerfully as he made his way through the bowels of the castle, towards the small cells set into the cliffs. They were virtually unoccupied, justice being a swift and usually merciless thing here in the Iron Islands. Nodding to the jailor, he walked up to a cell in the middle and peered inside.
"Eaten has he?" he enquired of the jailor, who shrugged and picked at his ear, looking at surprise at the contents. Halon looked away and rolled his eyes. "Give me the keys" he demanded. He unlocked the door and grabbed a torch from the wall, illuminating the cell.

It was a cramped, barely 10 feet long and only 5 feet high. In the far corner, holding his hands up against the light, was Derrick Mallister, still wearing the ragged remains of his purple tabard. He had an empty bowl in from of him and a cup full of murky water. "Ah! There you are, milord Mallister" Halon said happily. I was wondering how you were keeping. The jailor is not the most talkative person in Pyke I'm afraid". Motioning to the jailor, he got a fresh cup of water and gave it gingerly to Derrick who slurped greedily at it.
Frowning at the jailor, Halon carried on "Balor will see you now" talking to the jailor he said "Clean him up and fetch him to Lord Balor's solar".

[lordbalorgreyjoy]

Foster Redwyne is dragged down the steps and placed in a cell adjacent to Derrick Mallister.
Balor has the jailor replaced with someone of more wit and loyalty and has two guards present at all times.

[Fel]

Harras Botley and his priests are brought in, they are all put into seperate cells apart from each other.

[shacklock]

Harras sits silently in his cell. Looking disheveled. He had spoken little in the last few days, offering the occasional encouragement to his clergymen and offering prayers of forgiveness to the Drowned God.

[Fel]

Somewhere in a distant part of the dungeon, Harras can hear the faint sound of a man wailing, "the shadow! The shadoooow!" He calls out in a pained voice before he is silenced.

[Fel]

Felryn descends down to the dungeon. A small, uncomfortable seat is placed for him outside Harras Botley's chamber. He sits looking in at the priest.

[shacklock]

Botley lifts his head up after sometime, noticing Felryn.
“You, what do you want Harlaw?”

[Fel]

"How are you, Harras?" Felryn asked, ignoring the question, his tone was both comforting and sinister.

[shacklock]

The Drowned Priest spits. Standing up unsteadily, his bones visible through his skin now.
“How would you expect me to be. You leave me and mine clergymen here to rot, an affront to the God.”

[Fel]

"It's an affront the Drowned God to lie to His people and claim He says things to you that He does not truely." Felryn says, his black eyes looking at Harras.

[shacklock]

“I believe what I saw, yet…” trailing off, Harras looks uncertain, the weeks languishing in the cold, damp dungeon of Pyke having sapped his fanatical belief.
He sits back down heavily upon the cold floor.

[Fel]

Felryn nodded, "a man can get swept up in his emotions sometimes, get carried away even."

[shacklock]

Harras replies only with a glum nod of defeat, shivering suddenly. Looking not at all well.

[Fel]

"Unfortunate that you should see that now, Harras, for a man must pay for his mistakes. But there is still time for redemption. For your crimes, you and your men will be sentenced to death, but the manner of your death is still for you to decide."

"You and your clergymen may be drowned in honour and sent to feast in the Drowned God's halls for all time, or you will be hung, your bodies cut up into pieces and incased in the highest tower of Pyke, so you may always feel the Storm God's clutch.

"It all depends on whether you decide to publically declare your guilt, renounce your previous statements and encourage all godly men to support me, or not."

[shacklock]

Botley raises his head once more, locking a hate filled gaze with Felryn.
“Fine, you will have your statement of guilt, cretin.”