Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-25389303-20190127200805

The winding mountain road to Frostbite Asylum was a long and treacherous journey - and purposefully so. Only the desperate or the lost would venture this far north-east of Vale without good reason. Unfortunately for Arthur Hartest, he was one such person.

It had not been the promises of wealth that had spurred the vagabond on to accept this foolhardy contract. Instead, it had been the rumours. For months now, countless whispered tales of unspeakably inhumane acts of torture and experimentation had began flooding the local settlements, and now the fabled prison's name was beginning to be heard even in the most distant of Remnant's continents. For a moral idealist like Arthur, this could not-- no, this would not stand.

The adventurer rocked in his seat as his transport's tires rumbled across the uneven road, sliding slightly across its icy surface. As he climbed higher and higher, he watched as the surrounding environment slowly began to wither and freeze as the summer gave way to the peak's endless winter. Until finally, the armoured truck he drove crested the final height, and the barren wastes revealed a large metal cube nestled snuggly in between three adjacent mountain peaks, ringed by a tall barbed-wire fence littered with countless watchtowers, from which dozens of armed guards could be seen keeping a constant vigil over both the surrounding area and the facility they protected.

"We're approaching our destination," Arthur spoke into his radio, as he guided the truck down the winding path to the large checkpoint. As they approached Arthur could see four armed guards rise from their seats and advance towards him, motioning for the vehicle to stop before the automated gate to the compound. Donning his full-visored helmet, Arthur wound down the driver-side window as the first guard neared.

"You're late, 435. We were expecting you half an hour ago," the female guard told him, as two of her companions made their way to the back of the truck.

"Dangerous terrain. Had to take a detour," Arthur lied, memories of him ambushing the isolated transport several hours before flashing briefly in his mind. He promptly handed over his newly-acquired documentation and badge for the guard to inspect.

"Eleven this time, correct?" she eventually asked, handing back the misplaced documents with a reassuring nod as she referenced Arthur's unfortunate cargo.

"Yes ma'am. Word is the Doc's got something special planned for this lot," Arthur replied, eyes flicking to the wingview mirror as the two other guards threw open the truck's rear doors - rifles loaded and at the ready. A few unsettling moments of inspection passed, until finally the doors closed and one of the guards gave a thumbs-up signal to their commander.

"Alright, everything checks out. Hurry up to the facility, 435," the woman replied, nodding to the final guard, who opened the reinforced gates with the press of a button. With a curt nod of thanks, Arthur pulled away, allowing a brief sense of satisfaction as the first step in the plan proceeded unhindered.

The snow-covered asylum began to fill the adventurer's entire view as they approached the cubic structure. An entire prison, officer barracks and hospital in one, Frostbite Asylum was a towering testament to the resources and manpower required to contain the world's greatest and most terrible criminals, whose superhuman abilities made their simple existence a threat to the fragile peace that had held the four kingdoms together. As soon as the cube's metal gates slammed shut behind them, a sense of dread and uncertainty washed over Arthur. This was not a place people often walked away from.

Arthur passed many more prison officers as he was escorted into the main courtyard. Everywhere he looked, he saw metal. The walls, floors and ceilings were all made of the same dark, ice-covered material, with the prison's every possible requirement being contained in single giant structure. Eventually he was brought to a stop in the middle of what looked similar to an underground parking lot, only instead of civilian vehicles it was filled with rifle-wielding prison guards and an assortment of patrol jeeps.

Flexing his arms in anticipation, Arthur opened the driver-side door and stepped out. Immediately he felt the deathly cold air bite deep into his flesh, completely ignoring the thick guardsman's uniform he had disguised himself in. Somehow, the interior of the prison was even colder than the snow-capped mountain peaks outside, as if the ventilation intentionally pumped hot air out and cold air ''in. ''With chattering teeth, Arthur reached back and retrieved his standard-issue rifle from his passenger seat, before slinging a large duffle bag containing his person effects over his shoulder.

"This the fresh meat?" a male voice suddenly spoke at Arthur's side. Turning quickly, the adventurer found himself face-to-face with a grey-haired man of similar age to Arthur. Similarly dressed in grey ballistic armour, the man regarded Arthur with eyes as cold as the air around them.

"Yes sir," Arthur replied unevenly, unsure of the identity of this newcomer.

"Good, bring them this way," the man replied, a large silver jaw moving as he spoke, motioning for a pair of guards to assist. Nodding, Arthur turned and unlocked the transport's rear doors, letting them open with the groan of metal.

"Rise and shine, people," Arthur shouted, rapping his armoured knuckles against one of the walls to create a loud echo. "Everyone exit the vehicle. And no sudden movements! Anybody who tries anything funny gets shot on the spot!"

With the jerk of his head, Arthur watched as the first of the asylum's newest occupants exited the vehicle. Chained together at the wrists and ankles, they shuffled out of the back of the truck with downcast eyes and slumped shoulders, grimacing as the biting cold gripped them. Arthur watched in chilling fascination as something as simple as the cold turned Remnant's most fearsome and psychotic criminals into shivering, whimpering children. No doubt they knew that this was the place evil came to die.

Eleven downtrodden inmates were escorted away by a group of stern-faced guards and their iron-jawed leader, but Arthur lingered by the truck until they were out of sight. Several prison officers remained dotted around the courtyard, but none were within earshot. Satisfied, Arthur turned and looked back into the truck, peering into the darkest corner where the faintest outline of a man could be seen seated. As he stared, he saw the man's head turn in his direction, patiently awaiting Arthur's signal.

"Coast is clear, boss," Arthur told him, checking behind him to confirm that statement. "For now, at least. We had better get moving." 