"Drip…drop…drip...
The sound echoes throughout the small room. Vanier's eyelids weakly tremble before reluctantly parting, his vision blurred and heavy until it settles at the rough expanse of rocks on the ceiling, a dark liquid frees itself through a small crack in between the rocky ceiling, looking down, a small puddle of this liquid had settled down and made its home in the conor of the room.
Vanier groggly mutters,
"Where the hell am I?...
Without giving much concern to the very prevalent black liquid, Vanier lazily turned his head towards from which he felt a slight warmth from, after a slow turn his eyes landed upon the source of the slight warmth he felt, he was not able to make out what the source of light was at that mere instant due his eyes still being a bit sensitive.
Finally after some time spend on focusing on the light he was able to make out what the source of light was, but just as soon as his mind understood what the source of light was, something in between Vanier and the light drew his immediate attention,
Iron bars, rusted and withered from years of abuse by time and ill tempered prisoners alike, behind which stood a single lit wooden torch dimly burning and often wavering at the smallest burst of wind, for a moment Vanier remained silent even a bit confused.
Then it hit him,
"...A jail cell.." he muttered under his breath
Then a silence followed. Quickly interrupted by Vanier unending sarcasm,
"Just great."
It does seem that the jail has only taken his sense of freedom. Vanier still laying on the rough floor of the jail cell, he blankly stares at the bars while being completely lost in thought,
"Wait…"
His eyes narrowed at the bars of the jail cell,
"What if this is the trail ... .Then escape might be the clear condition..."
Against his tired body's pleas Vanier forces his body up and approaches the iron bars, he grips two adjacent iron bars and pulls with all his might,
No give. Even though they look like they might crumble at any moment, the bars are insanely strong or Vanier is that weak.
"Well i really didn't expect it to be this easy but still i kinda hoped….
With his botched effort at trying to pry the iron bars apart with his bare hands behind him, Vanier tries to take a thorough observation of his surroundings, bare, painfully bare. No bed, no furniture, hell not even the courtesy of a floor- just rough stone all around.
"This place is even worse than the slums."
Vanier leaned his face against the rusted bars,
"HELLO? ANYONE THERE?"
His voice echoes outward, but his hopes are met with an oppressive silence. pulling back,
"This day can not get any better…well even if someone did come, i don't think they would let someone in a jail cell walk out to freedom that easily"
Thinking to himself,
"What to do?....what to do?.....
Then a sudden primal fear appears in his eyes, instinctively Vanier grabs his stomach, gripping it tightly. Pain…. He vividly remembers the memory of pain gripping his entire body, a sharp pain that radiated out from his bleeding stomach.
But when he looked down, nothing, no blood, no wound , no pain.
His fear struck fingers timidly pulls back his torn shirt, He stared blankly at the place where once his life had been draining out from, not even a scar was present. A small sense of relief and happiness spreads through his body,
"Well at least I am not going to bleed to death….
He glances around,
"Might starve to death though…"
After a couple hours of trying and mainly thinking, with to no avail.. All that effort and thinking had made him thirsty, He looked at the black liquid with both desperation of thirst and escape…
"Well I have heard of people consuming things in the rifts and being blessed with status effects like strength and speed… and I mean the rifts are so very cruel and twisted, maybe this vile looking liquid is my way out of here…"
Vanier says to himself trying to justify what he is about to do. Vanier kneels down before the mysterious liquid, and cups a bit of the liquid in his hands and brings it to his mouth and gives it small and measured sniff,
"At least it doesn't smell bad…
He pours the liquid into his mouth and quickly realizes that the absence of a putrid smell did not correlate to the absence of a putrid taste. The taste was so revolting and putrid that he gagged immediately, but through pure will power he swallowed it.
He collapses to the side gagging after ingesting the vile liquid. while gagging an angelic voice cuts through the sounds of him gagging,
[You have acquired a temporary status effect…
Vanier's eyes glow with hope, a faint smile appearing on his face…
….STATUS EFFECT: POISONED]
"Fuck…
Vanier proceeds to violently vomit out the black liquid, After some long exasperated gasping,
"Point to self, Don't drink random ass liquids .."
[Status effect has been cleared]
"Hm, I do feel better, but what if that liquid did something to me….Ehh, I will deal with that later..Regardless, I have to focus on getting out of here.."
Vanier walks to the right side wall of his own jail cell and stretches his hand between the iron bars, He tries to feel something like a button or lever on the adjacent wall hid from his sight, he desperately searches for something that would help him escape,
He lowers his hand , he feels something, something metallic. he tries to feel it out,
'Huh? What is that it feels like smooth polished metal but also it has some irregular shape to it..
Then his hand touches something similar to skin, to his horror its a human face, he pulls his hand back in fear. Vanier after some deep breathes composes himself and taps on the armor of the person,
"HEY WAKE UP, IF YOUR A PRISON GUARD, I WILL FOR SURE SEND A STRONGLY WORDED LETTER TO THE PRISON WARDEN!"
But his taunts are not given any response. Vanier getting annoyed pulls the person… the person flops down in view of Vanier. The person looked like a guard which confirmed Vanier suspicion that it was the person mean't to guard the cell. The guard was a tall older gentleman. He was wearing just a shiny iron chestplate and the rest of his uniform was made of leather tunic.
The man had gray hair and a large scar on his right eye.But his most prominent feature was that he was .... Dead. He looked so pale and lifeless that it would be more accurate to say that his soul was taken from his body before his death. A quickened panic appeared on Vanier's face,
"Wait, what if the other guards find him, they might think I killed him... Oh then I completely fucked. I need to get out of here as soon as possible.."
On the right side of the guard's waist, a sheathed sword was proudly displaced,with the sheath having intricate engravings throughout, the engravings look painfuly craved with such detail that it would make one wonder what great feats has this man done to be given this.
Vanier peered at the sword with great exuberance. Vanier reaches out and snatches the sword from the man as if he did not care about the man and or his story, well in truth Vanier really didn't care,
[You have received RADULFUS' SWORD]
[ Item description:
A beautifully crafted sword made for a man of great conviction and virtue. ]
"I kind of expected a long description…
[ Weapon Ability:
Mighty Strike:
The sword will reach temperatures of intense heat and glow in a white radiance. A singular
Attack of immense devastation can be done.but after the use of the ability the sword must
Not be used again within a span of 10 minutes, if the sword is used again before it can cool
Down it will shatter. ]
Vanier look at the rusty iron bars again,
"Intense heat huh?....
Vanier removes the blade from its sheath, the blade itself quite simplistic in its design as compared to its sheath, Only unique to its appearance is a gold midrib that runs till the end of the blade. But the blade was indeed quite polished, it could even be used as a mirror if one desires it.
Vanier grips the sword and the sword begins to shine with a blinding light, using all his strength Vanier swings the blade with a parabolic curve perpendicular to the bars, in its wake, a semi-circle is cut out with detached glowing red iron bars at the surface of the shape.
Vanier lifts the red hot blade above his head just far enough to admire it but not close enough that if the sword melts from the intense heat, it would fall on his face and he observes it,
"Damn.. it looks like i actually got something useful or maybe I could sell this for a lot of money…
Vanier thinks of how comfortablely he could live if he sold the blade, but after some thought he decides against it, well how could he not, there was no guarentee he would not be scamed and its not like the money would last forever. He lowers the still hot blade into its sheath and with a slight smile of victory on his face,
"Well time to clear this rift and get my rewards"
Vanier walks out through the jail cell and awaits the angelic voice..
Vanier original assumption that escaping the jail cell was the main goal of the rift was partially true, It is true that sometimes very rarely the enlightenment rifts are not combat focused and requires a different clear condition. Till this much, Vanier's chain of thought was accurate but however he did get one small detail wrong,
The fact that he had not gotten such a lucky break.