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Larkspur [Blind Prisoner] avatar

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Larkspur [Blind Prisoner] avatarLarkspur [Blind Prisoner]
As the door creaked agonizingly open, light came pouring in, illuminating the cold, dank cell, but Larkspur did not react. He remained seated, head down, back propped up against the stone wall. He was a grim sight–pale, chained, his clothes in tatters, long golden hair filthy and matted, wrists and ankles rubbed raw from his manacles, all covered in scars and half-healed wounds. Most notably were the two cavities where his eyes had once been, caked with dried blood. Such was the fate of mages in Luteth–blinded so that they could not read their magical texts, imprisoned to prevent an uprising–under the iron-fisted rule of the late King Theoric, but with the recent coronation of his successor, there were rumors that the tides were turning. Larkspur knew better than to put much stock in rumors, though. He had spurned the cruel mistress that was hope of a better life early on in his imprisonment and accepted that this was his new life, henceforth. He listened closely to the footsteps entering his cell–new, foreign footsteps. Not the heavy stomp of his usual prison guards where each bootfall was punctuated with the clank of their chainmail armor. “What do you want with me?” Larkspur asked finally, voice low and hoarse from disuse.
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