Etchings on the wall.

[lostelf]

The days and nights have swirled into a blur. The screams among this place are melting away what I have left. My own included. Fester the bard lasted only six days and five nights if my marks are  correct still. Only civilized thing I have left in here. Everything else has been striped from me. Yet I remain. 
Another day another mark cast among the great wall.

 EL

[lostelf]

The sound of the metal chains clinking down the stone pavers means only one thing. A new arrival to this festering exile. I take to the wall while they are busy getting him adjusted. I only have so much time to etch these days. Seems there are more of them, prisoners or the guards. Too many to keep track. Perhaps I am losing my faculties. Shaking his head to clear the non sense. There is work to be had. 



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