The Dungeons of Numnige

The bastards that lowered me into this place at least had the courtesy of removing my shackles. I suppose that was done so that they could keep their irons. I'd be a bloody fool to believe that they did it for my sake. I turned my gaze upward at the small man-sized hole in the ceiling. It was so far from my reach that it appeared like the sun, though it was dwindling; setting. Gentle light flickered in from above as a grate was sat atop it. I heard the sound echo through this chamber as the door above creaked shut. And then. Silence.
Time began to pass as I realized that the only noises I heard were the dripping of something from above and the ringing within my ears. There was no promise of light. My eyes spent what seemed to be centuries trying to affix to something - anything at all. Lingering in the black were indescribable dancing colors like those one would see after squeezing their eyes shut for too long. This was simply a mistake. The courts will find that I'm not guilty of any of those charges. They will surely realize that I'm not to blame for all of this. I began to call for a guard, hoping they would hear me in this pit. Unsurprisingly, the echo of the chamber was all that acknowledged me. Well played, Burgomaster. I will forever bind myself to you, finding joy in your eternal suffering.
My feel begins to grow accustomed to the refuse and straw between my toes. Squish, squish, squish. Beyond the ringing in my ears, that was all I could hear. My thoughts were something that I'd rather not listen to anyway. I yearned for the faint screams of pain from the other poor souls above. Perhaps that would give me hope that I'm still alive. The deprivation of sight and the stench of rot molested my other senses. I reached my arms out. The rough pads of my fingers met cool, jagged rock. I felt as though I was throw down a well as though I was a practitioner of dark magic. My lips were cracked and my need for food began to cripple my abdomen with pain as my stomach ate away at everything around it. The wall was damp. I began to lap at any bit of condensation I could find across the stones. It tasted rancid, like old meat, but I had to abide.
I smashed my knuckles into the curved, rough stones within the wall as though I thought they'd move. Those bloody mongrels that threw me in here. I pray they hear me snapping the strings of my throat as I cry out. I beg the Gods that those who put me here will know such a fate when they breathe their last. A warm, stinging feeling breaks me from my rage. I raise my hand to observe it, forgetting for a faint moment that I have no way of seeing it, yet through the filth below me, I now smell copper. Running my tongue over my knuckles, I taste the slick, metallic liquid. Somehow, despite it all, it tasted bitter.
Digging. Perhaps a way out. I flung what seemed to be several feet of thickened waste. My arms grew sore and my back felt as though it would break when I finally hit stone. For a long time, I sat entirely still. For how long, I don't know. I remember mashing what was left of my hand into the stone. I began to laugh as it became nothing more than mush at the end of a stump. I felt my face turn up into a smile as I began to scream. Nothing came out. Only that horrible ringing in my ears.

Purpose / Function

The dungeons within the walls of Numnige were specifically created to assure that not a soul could ever escape, for if they were to get away, they'd tell the tales of the horrible things that happen to people there.

Architecture

The dungeons are deep beneath the keep to assure that no one other than the torturers and the burgomaster can access them.

History

Originally created to throw away the evilest of people, a recent ushering of martial law has caused the dungeons to become filled for the first time since the witch-hunts decades ago. A wicked soul, the Burgomaster is always happy to work with his torturer to create new ways to cause suffering.

Founding Date

276 PGS

Parent Location

Ulvad

Owner

Burgomaster Loricke Cel Batan