Summanus
Summanus lay there on the cold stone floor. His eyes grew heavy and his sight dimmed. The expenditure of continuous torture performed its debilitating effect on his body. He knew unconsciousness would soon take him and the next he would awaken will probably be before his hour of execution. This was not the first time he faced death or even torture. The life of a mercenary is not without its charm. The only difference was he traveled with a group, not of hardened killers, but idealists seeking change. The only one he could consider a killer was Mydnyte, and of course, Blue. That much evident to him even before the fire revealed the dried blood upon her fur.
Whose blood it was he did not know or was even concerned with knowing. All he does know is that Blue, despite her cryptic language, seems to have some doubts. He's not sure how doubtful she is, but it's certainly not enough to dissuade her from her current course of action. Summanus could only let out a breath. She was gone as soon as she came. Summanus could only hope that whatever happens to him nothing will come about it. The others better keep away, far away. He knows his life is not worth the risk of breaking into this place to rescue him. He was content to die here. A violent life deserves a violent end.
"An interesting 'friend' you've got there." A voice spoke out. Summanus hadn't the energy to lift his head to turn to address the stranger. He could only assume that it's one of the other prisoners locked up here. "The only thing just as interesting is yourself." The voice spoke again. "Thinking of others rather than yourself. It seems Prometheus has some predisposition against honest wolves." He chuckles. Summanus wasn't sure who was speaking to him, but he had no reason to oblige in conversation. He only wished to rest and perhaps dream one last time. "Life isn't a curse you know? But a gift." Another voice chimes. Summanus remains unresponsive. "It seems our stoic cellmate has little time or energy for simple conversation. I shouldn't be surprised. The Prometheans really worked you over. They must despise you most of all." The First Voice concludes.
"Well anyone who has earned the ire of Prometheus sounds like a friend to me." Says the second voice. "Let's allow him to rest, for now, we can reserve what we wish to say for a later time." The first voice decides. "Agreed." Concours the second. The voices grew inaudible by this point as the Borak drifts into unconsciousness.