Figures huddled in the shadows of the cell, mixed in with the mounds of rotten and fetid hay. Rats and lice leaped and squirmed from mound to mound, their squeaks piercing the silence. Water dripped in the distance and thunder roared in the distance, echoing in from the tiny hole on the wall near the ceiling. The only light in the prison was a single torch down the hallway, which bathed the corridor and front of the cell in a red light. Flickering shadows danced on the walls of the cell, making it hard to count the actual amount of people held in the cell, but there was at least ten.
Heavy metal footsteps echoed from further down the corridor, quickly becoming louder. Voices became louder and turned into vicious and gruff laughs that bounced down the corridor, filling the cell with fear.
"Nash gark! Nash gark you scum!"
An evil face jeered through the bars, jangling some keys and holding a wicked looking axe in it's other hand. The tusks on the face screamed orc but the intelligence in its eye whispered something else. It slid open the jail cell door and three other orcs strode in, covered in black chainmail and curved swords on their backs.
"Take the old and young. Goshak nyar kaz!"
Six heavily muscled, tattooed, scarred, and hairy arms grabbed the weakest of the prisoners, pulling out six of them. A little boy, dirty and sick, two little girls, both of them crying, a mother with a shattered arm, an old man missing an eye, and an old woman who coughed up blood, were all led out of the cell by the orcs and taken away.
"Don't worry, garks, we'll be back for you soon!"