You are Corvo: Introduction.
The light bounced off the water like a thousand diamonds strewn across a bed of blue linen, the waves swayed like a beast turning; gripped in the midst of a disturbed slumber. The sky was painted in broad strokes with an ominous red, it looked as if the gods were bleeding, as you put on your mask you could not help but consider how apt that was.
In his usual place sat Sam, he seemed to feel at home on his boat, more so than he ever looked on land. Sam’s face looked like the edge of a cliff, weather beaten, with deep crags defining his features. His expression told the tale of a life fraught with pain and sorrow, but he still found the time to obsess over the width of his sideburns.
“So you’re ready?”, said Sam, “this job won’t be easy, I know you already broke out of one, but breaking into a prison? That will be something else”. You nodded your head; you always were a man of few words. You knew that killing the warden of Dunwall prison was going to be no easy task, but since the Outsider had summoned you to his ethereal dreamscape you had become very proficient at achieving the implausible.
Midway through the journey the red sky opened and a heavy rain whipped against the surface of the ocean, lashing against your mask and obscuring your view, but more importantly masking your approach to the prison. Sam sat silently, vigilantly guiding your small vessel away from the countless whale trawlers, constantly wary of somebody raising the alarm.
The prison was built into the side of a cliff thrusting out of the ocean like a tumour, inviting prisoners to try and escape by smashing their skulls on the rocks below. “Good luck”, said Sam as he docked the boat, “I will await your swift return”. Tilting your head in approval you made your way to the foot of the looming structure.
Protruding from the base of the cliff was a sewage tunnel, the bars protecting it not quite wide enough for even your nimble frame, although the rats had free reign it seemed. It felt as though your bones were crushing as you used your possession power to take control of one of the rats, the pain excruciating, almost every fiber in your body crying out for release. Then it came. Your perspective shifted and you were now inhabiting the body of one of the rodents. Strangely your head felt wider than normal as your whiskers brushed against the bars and your nose twitched at the stench all around you. The waste smelled even more pungent now that you were closer, you could taste it on your tongue as your claws tapped along the repulsive floor.
The tunnel seemed to stretch for an eternity from a rodents perspective, until eventually you came upon a shaft of light penetrating the void above. You could hear a clinking sound, the rats natural instinct making you feel afraid as shadows danced all around. Suddenly you felt very vulnerable, so quickly you changed form, and came face to face with the disturbance. A hanging chain. You couldn’t help but smirk at the irony: you a phantom, a deadly shadow, suddenly spooked by phantoms and shadows.
Your time as the Empresses bodyguard had made your muscles iron, making the ascent easy. The chain led to the courtyard which was just off from the main cell-block, beyond there was the wardens office and your target. The chain was tied to a grate, so, bracing your legs on the wall you slowly pushed it aside. As you clambered to solid ground you noticed two guards deep in conversation, you caught the glint of metal, as a searchlight bounced off something hanging from the guards hip. Keys. You closed your eyes, willing your body to blink behind a pillar near the guards, then the whispers came. Life slipped away for what seemed like an eternity, and then you were there; close enough to smell their fear.
The pillar you were using as cover seemed to be holding up one of the many walkways honeycombing the sky above you, doubtless placed for the guards to watch the inmates during their ten minute, monthly exercise. When you turned back to the guards they had parted ways and the nearest one seemed to be heading for the door. The keys were critical for you to remain stealthy. You squeezed your eyes tightly shut, bending time to your will. When your eyes opened everything was moving in slow motion, there air was still and your nerves were calm. The sound came out distorted as you sprinted at him with the haste of a lion, you couldn’t help but muse over what that must have sounded like to the guards, a firing squad most likely you pondered. His head only managed to turn forty-five degrees towards the disturbance when were upon him, your arm quickly snaking around his throat and dragging him into the darkness as time was restored
“Lucius?” Shouted his friend from across the yard, “was that you making that racket? I’m not playing your stupid games again!” He skulked his way towards the spot where his friend once was, his face contorted in fear. Your options were many, but you decided now was the time to test your new toy. Piero was a master craftsman and these crossbow bolts were works of art, cased in silver and soaked in a sleeping salve; they could probably fell a Whale. It slid perfectly into the mechanism of your bow and when fired it slid into the neck of the approaching guard with a satisfying thud. You scooped up the unconscious guard and placed him neatly into a loving embrace with his comatose friend.
Before using the key on the cell-block door you thought it best to check for guards on the other side. You shut out the world and a tear of blood rolled down your left cheek. When your eyes opened you could see the silhouettes of three guards patrolling the corridor beyond, two below and one on the walkway next to the cells above. There were also a handful of prisoners: one seemingly eating clumps of his own excrement, another pacing his cell and striking his own face in a fit of rage, the rest were either asleep or dead. Ten eyes, you thought to yourself.
Silently you turned the key as the guard patrolled away from the door, quietly slipping through and closing the door silently behind you. The enraged inmate barked an insult at the guard as he passed his cell, causing the guard to hit his protruding fingers with the flat of his blade. This seemed to enrage the prisoner more and he started smashing his face off the bars in a frenzy, the other guard came running over, not to help but to watch the macabre entertainment. That was your chance. Quickly you chained together a series of blinks: the railing above, directly behind the two voyeurs and finally straight to the door at the end of the room, closing it behind you.
There it was plain as day, the sign above the door stated “WARDENS OFFICE”, this was the place. Using your dark vision allowed you to see the warden sat behind his desk, oblivious to your presence. The desk was facing the door and as if sensing your predicament a rat appeared at your feet, hungrily licking the drop of blood that rolled down your cheek and onto your filth-ridden boots. Upon possessing the rat you had the distinct taste of metal in your mouth, but you put it to the back of your mind and searched the rooms perimeter, it didn’t take long to find a rat-chewed entry point and make your way inside. Scurrying across the floor you shot in-between his legs, materializing behind him like a shadow, sliding your arm under his chin and squeezing him to sleep.
You returned through the cell block the way you came, only this time with the warden slumped over your shoulder, taking the high route, as the guards were busy below trying to pry a prisoners squashed head from the bars it was lodged in. You snaked through the room, blinking around the edge away from the guards, eventually to the door to the courtyard. Returning to the grate, you kicked it aside and used your blink power to return to the grimy depths. Instead of heading towards the route that was barred you thought it best to try another route, so you head through the adjacent pipe, this pipe spilled waste out into the ocean below, the smell of waste was penetrated by the aroma of the salty brine. Of home.
