5:37 AM, Middas, 25th of First Seed, 4E 210

Everything was all a blur. The young Imperial man would struggle to lift the weight of his own throbbing head. He’d slowly inspect the confines of which he discovered his very being within. He attempted to move his arms, but to no avail, as they were cuffed against the sandstone walls of the prison. As the glaring blur had started to dissipate, the man would discover that he was not alone in his cell. To his left was a beautiful, young, brown-haired Breton woman, of who had been chained to the floor, beaten and bruised like an aging banana. To his right was a bright green Argonian man with a large, rounded snout, equipped with curved horns - of which were decorated with engraved golden rings - and  indigo-colored feathers atop his head. He had shown recent indications of having been whipped, scarlet streaks across his shirtless, scaled torso of which still oozed with relatively fresh blood. They all adorned the raggedy prisoner clothing. Each of them was a prisoner of the Alik’r. But, how? And why? The Imperial man could only grumble as the thoughts would quickly return to his memory. He had taken a blow to the head from a brute of an Alik’r warrior. He’d been on the run from the Aldmeri Dominion, of which had overrun the majority of Tamriel, capturing even the already-crumbling heartland province of Cyrodiil. But, what about the others? What were their stories? How come they were bound to the sandstone cell like he was? And even more, what was the fate that awaited them?

Abruptly, the young Breton woman and the Argonian man started to stir simultaneously. She started to groan in daze, mixed with slight traces of the pain she had endured.

“Wha… what happened?” The woman spoke in her delirium. It seemed that she was having a hard time conceiving her current circumstances as well. The Argonian man did not usher a word, grumbling slightly as the dusty air stung his whip lacerations.

“Who are you?” The Breton woman looked over to the Imperial man, addressing him.

“I’m… Cyrenius. And you are?” The Imperial man, named Cyrenius, responded.

“Aurianna Collencci. I’m a sorceress…” she responded. “What’s your story?”

Cyrenius would let out a deep sigh, looking down at his cold, bare feet upon the sandstone

floor, then back at Aurianna. “I was a legionnaire. Emphasis on the ‘was’. I was the sole surviving soldier during the Battle of Chorrol. I decided to flee to the Northwest, ended up in Hammerfell, and from there onwards, you can guess what happened.”

“I see,” Aurianna stated softly, “what about you, Argonian, who are y-”

“Don’t bother,” the Argonian interrupted with his deep, somewhat raspy voice, “there is no point getting to know each other when we’re all gonna end up with our heads rolling at the hands of these Alik’r bastards.”

There was a slight pause of silence as Cyrenius and Aurianna came to this realization. Each of them were cuffed and chained within the cell. Little to no hope remained for the prisoners of whom were encaged like helpless animals.

“So…” Aurianna broke the silence, “I guess that we should just wait for our inevitable demise?”

“There is no other option.” The Argonian bluntly stated. The silence continued on for a few minutes to follow, before Cyrenius sparked with an idea.
“Aurianna… that right?” He addressed the young Breton woman. The woman’s light, sea-blue eyes glimmered like diamonds as she looked in his direction.
“Yeah, that’s correct…” she stated timidly, “why?”

“You said you were a sorceress?”

“That’s correct.”
“I don’t know much about magic, but like… perhaps you could produce flames that could melt through the cuffs and the chains?”

Aurianna paused for a bit, looking down at the chain, connected to a cuff affixed to her throat and anchored on the floor. “I suppose I could… though that would more than likely take up quite a bit of magicka to produce flames of that temperature…”

“Well, unless you can come up with a better idea, then that might be our only plausible option.” The Argonian chimed in.

“Okay… I’ll see what I can do…” Aurianna softly responded as her hands began to spark with flames. The Breton girl would close her eyes, her face beginning to flush bright red as she tensed up, causing the flames shrouding her hands to furiously burst to larger sizes and of more potent luminosity. She’d bear her clenched teeth as she provided a large quantity of magical energy into her flames. Slowly, but certainly, the rusted cuffs would begin to glow red-orange.
“Keep going… it’s working!” Cyrenius would silently exclaim, in order to not alert any potential Alik’r prison guards. Aurianna would visibly be experiencing even more pain from the amount of effort going into her arcane flames, as her cuffs were now glowing sharply. Droplets of bright yellow, molten iron started to drip onto the sandstone floor, immediately cooling back to metal state upon contact. Hope started to spark within the eyes of Cyrenius and the Argonian. Perhaps they would manage to find their freedom afterwards? However, the possibility of her escaping by herself and leaving the two to rot in the cell - or await execution - remained. 

As the molten iron melted away from around her wrists, Aurianna would collapse forward onto the cold sandstone floor, only managing to prevent a faceplant by clutching the floor with her hands. To follow, the woman would weakly lift herself up. There was still the chain that restrained her to the floor, and she was exhausted of magicka, unable to produce as much as a spark.

“D-damn it…” Aurianna weakly uttered.

“Gods damn it all…” the Argonian murmured to himself.

“Take your time.” Cyrenius stated, with faint signs of hopelessness in his tone.

“It… it will take me awhile to recharge my magicka… give me a f-”

“Well, well, well…” a deep voice spoke from behind the cell door, “looks like the poor prisoner souls are now trying to cooperate in a jailbreak effort!”

The three would look over at the cell door to see a big brute of a dark-skinned Redguard warrior, with his bulky arms crossed. It was none other than Jaffir, one of the Alik’r commanders. The man adorned a bright crimson garb, and a thick vest plated with steel. His beard was jet-black, like the deepest reaches of the Void. A golden ring pierced through his nostrils.

“Initially, I was expecting to give that lizard pirate another whipping. But, as it appears, now I also get to give that Breton whore another beating. Perhaps reshape that pretty face of her’s?”

“N-... no… please…” Aurianna would beg as Jaffir opened up the cell door, slowly, and menacingly, approaching the Breton sorceress. The Alik’r commander would ball his hands into fists, lifting them up in order to strike Aurianna, who would shield her face with her arms in order to brace herself from the beating.
“Wait!” Cyrenius exclaimed. “It… it was my idea. Please, provide me with the punishment instead…”

Jaffir would let out a chuckle, before shifting his direction over towards the Imperial. “Saving the damsel in distress… such a heroic knight in shining armor! Hmph. Very well then, bandit lowlife scum.”

The large Redguard berserker wasted no time making his way towards Cyrenius, then striking him across the face like a lightning bolt. Blood would spurt from the Imperial’s mouth as he was struck, his vision hazing up once more. Jaffir would strike with his other fist, hitting the Imperial point-blank in the nose, causing his nostrils to inflame and leak with fresh, scarlet blood. Aurianna turned her head away, wincing at each sound of impact upon Cyrenius’ face. The Argonian grumbled, smirking, before finally speaking once more.

“For someone bound to a code of honor, you seem to be lacking in that sense.”

“Quiet, lizard. You’ll get your fair share of beatings next.”

“You’re an awful commander, Jaffir. You threw away more than a fair share of your blood-brothers’ lives all because you were too set on cuffing the oh-so-terrible swashbuckling lizard Ajul-Jei!”

The Alik’r brute would stop his arm from striking the Imperial, before exhaling in irritation, and turning towards the Argonian.

“Face it, ‘commander’. You’re corrupt. You care more for the gold and other riches than your own men. No sense of brotherhood.”

“You’re one to talk, pirate lizard trash.”

“Oh? Am I? Sure, I’m a cutthroat of the Abecean. But where were you and your Alik’r warriors when the Aldmeri Dominion launched a seafaring attack on Stros M’Kai? Hm? Nowhere. Guess which band of what you refer to as ‘pirates’ were present defending the island from those Altmer dogs, as you would call them? None other than the Seaserpent Buccaneers.”

“Keep that serpentine tongue in your mouth, lizard! Do not slander the Alik’r with your lies! We have indeed made way to Stros M’Kai during the Dominion’s raid!” Jaffir shouted.

“Really now? Then how come it was an Alik’r galleon under your command that attacked my vessel within the Iliac Bay nearly eight hours to follow the events of what happened at Stros M’Kai? You just wanted to claim the fame and glory of arresting the terrible Seaserpent captain Ajul-Jei! Fame! Glory! Fortune! Women! That is all you desired. So much so that you allowed your own Alik’r men to get slaughtered all because your wishes were blinded by greed.”

“Shut those jaws of yours’, lizard, before I tie them shut!”

“The truth has been exposed, Jaffir.” The Argonian pirate, named Ajul-Jei, expressed with a wide smirk plastered on his reptilian face. Jaffir, in visible rage, began to relentlessly beat the Argonian, as Cyrenius began to recover from his beating, his vision blurred and ears ringing.

“Ajul-Jei? The pirate captain wanted dead or alive for thirty-thousand septims?” Aurianna would whisper under her breath. Aurianna’s fear slowly progressed into anger, causing her to clench her fists, which would begin to slightly spark with electricity as she watched Jaffir ruthlessly beat the Argonian like a sadistic barbarian. She would lift her arms, preparing to blast the Alik’r commander with bolts of lightning. Hearing Ajul-Jei’s confrontational speech inspired her, regardless of whatever potential crimes he may have committed in order to stack up such a hefty bounty. Hearing that the Alik’r were not present during the raid on Stros M’Kai was more than enough to fuel her anger, which in turn, fueled her magicka levels.

Crrk... 

The crackling rumble emanated throughout the prison, ceasing the actions of the denizens within. Aurianna would inspect her surroundings, her eyes wide as saucers, and her arms still pointed outwards.

“What… what was that?” Cyrenius weakly uttered. The sounds that followed resembled that of sifting sand, but the audial occurrence hundreds of times greater.

“Do you feel that?” Aurianna asked. “It’s as if the floor is moving…”

“Shut it, superstitious whelps! It’s nothing!” Jaffir would shout out as he struck Ajul-Jei twice more.

CRRRRRRK!

The quaking crackle returned, even stronger than the previous quake. The sandstone walls had noticeably begun to show indications of cracks, alongside the sandstone floors. Aurianna’s pupils shrunk as she had come to an abrupt realization.

“This prison was built on a sinkhole… and that sinkhole is…”

CRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRACK!

The sandstone flooring would completely break apart as the prison was claimed by the sifting sands, right into the gaping jaws of the sinkhole. The poor souls trapped within the prison could only brace for impact, securing themselves to anything they could grasp their hands upon, if they weren’t already secured, as the sandstone structure tumbled down into the shadowy abyss below. They could only hope for their survival as they fell hundreds of feet downwards into the grasp of Sithis.