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Rain drizzled down onto the city of Stormwind, a fortress of hard stone and iron willed humans. There was a eerie and melancholic mood across the city and the kingdoms. King Wyrnns war against the Blood Elf's in the North have lead to constant attempts at sabotage. The most cunning of rogues invaded the city, poisoning water sources, causing uprisings and disturbing the greater war effort of the humans. A city wide curfew was imposed with neighbors distrustful of each other, calling each other traitors and accusing one another of being sympathetic towards the Elves. The war took a lot from the people and it being so evident in the city. The city guard commanders grew paranoid and it exploded into a small reign of terror. Innocent people were dragged to the Stockades. A well fortified dungeon at the heart of the city it stood a legend. Riots and risings that were started within were quickly crushed. Deep within new cells were constructed along with the new infamous interrogation room.
In one of these rotten cells sat a rather handsome man. His hands were chained above his head as he sat with his legs crossed. Crimson black hair sprung from his head with two weary warm hazelnut eyes. He was only covered by the tight black trousers and brown boots he had on. His torso was well defined. Like a sculpture. Though this master piece carried a few scars, most of which fresh. He carried a cheeky smile that bordered sarcastic. His head was quickly raised as two black cloaked guards carried in a new captive, only this one was strangely quiet. Syddrick looked on as a female figure passed. She was too defined to be human. "Blood elf?" he asked himself as he could not see her face due to a cotton back being placed over her head. "Poor soul...fresh meet for the interrogators" He muttered to himself. Syddrick had clearly been in the dungeon for a while judging by the cuts and bruised that littered his body. He sat in silence as the moon passed through the night with screams coming from the room down the way, the infamous interrogation room.
(Syddrick)
In one of these rotten cells sat a rather handsome man. His hands were chained above his head as he sat with his legs crossed. Crimson black hair sprung from his head with two weary warm hazelnut eyes. He was only covered by the tight black trousers and brown boots he had on. His torso was well defined. Like a sculpture. Though this master piece carried a few scars, most of which fresh. He carried a cheeky smile that bordered sarcastic. His head was quickly raised as two black cloaked guards carried in a new captive, only this one was strangely quiet. Syddrick looked on as a female figure passed. She was too defined to be human. "Blood elf?" he asked himself as he could not see her face due to a cotton back being placed over her head. "Poor soul...fresh meet for the interrogators" He muttered to himself. Syddrick had clearly been in the dungeon for a while judging by the cuts and bruised that littered his body. He sat in silence as the moon passed through the night with screams coming from the room down the way, the infamous interrogation room.
(Syddrick)
