The echoes of demented laughter rang throughout the cold, stone jail on the outskirts of Lut Gholein. The opinions and thoughts of the insane were spoken aloud, shouted and shrieked at the uncaring walls. Unintelligible oaths and slurs were hurled back from the other side, emphasizing the pure madness kept alive in this cruel, forsaken prison.
There was a creak of rusting hinges as the gate swung open and a shadowy figure entered silently, clad in a long, dark robe. Walking phantom-like down the corridor, the figure approached a broad, wooden door.
Inside the desolate cell, the old man lay forlornly, face down on the floor, tracing a line across the stone flags. He took up the rectangle of wan sunlight streaming in through the barred window, and was dressed in the simple, ragged garments of a long-term inmate. There was a sharp click as the heavy, ancient door opened and the sudden draft disturbed the dust motes floating down in the wide sunbeam. The silhouette of the robed man was cast into stark contrast against the white light outside, standing side-on before the portal. As the figure moved into the room, the old man rolled onto his back and struggled away, pushing his tin food dish aside with a metallic crash.
The tall man sat, the wooden chair creaking slightly and the sun helping to hide his face within the confines of his hood. There was a moment of silence as the two figures contemplated the other, the old man backing up against the far wall, his withered legs withdrawn against his body.
'So, Marius,' the cowled wraith began, 'at last I've found you.'
There was a flash and the prisoner's gaunt eyes blinked with recognition.
'Tyrael, yes…yes now I recognise you…I should have known you'd travel in disguise. They're always watching.'
'I've been searching for you a long time, Marius,' the stranger continued. 'I was rather beginning to think you didn't want to be found.'
'Oh forgive me, Tyrael,' Marius sobbed. 'It…it wasn't my fault.'
'Not your fault? Tell me, Marius, how was it not your fault?'
The old man sighed, with great resignation.
'The Wanderer…yes…it was the Wanderer…'