Correction Officers

{March 3rd, open to all interested in being a part of the prison staff. I added the map so I figured it would be good to take a tour.}

The female let out a violent, loud roar. Her ear folded back as she let loose the insane noise. She was calling whoever wanted to come. She stood at the entrance of the prison mound. This was her pride, her magnum opus. She wanted the cells to be full of tortured heroes and human villains. Listening to their lovely screams, their wails of despair. However she needed help. She needed guards. Her thick limbs paced her body back and forth, waiting for the recruits to arrive. She sent a hyena around to spread the news about her prison recruitment meeting.

She'd give a tour, instructions and assign roles like some kind of morbid play. A play where she was the director.

She tapped her foot on the ground, waiting, wondering where they were. She almost went inside until she saw lovely silhouettes and shadows creep over the landscape illuminated by the torchlight. She'd hung torches crudely at each side of the entrance of the prison.

The "officers" wouldn't know her real plans for them. She'd have them stay...but that didn't mean she was going to...

Waffle, for all intents and purposes, only showed his face because he had nothing better to do. Oh sure, he could have been hunting. Oh sure, he could have been honing his non-existent battle techniques. Oh sure, he could have been spouting off awful puns to anyone who would listen. Actually, that last one was more of a reflex than a chore. Bad puns or not, Waffle was never huge on the whole “work” thing. Which made it all the more unusual when his red eyes first peered out from the gloom.

The off-red color of his pelt was intensified by the orange glow from the torches. He wasn’t quite the right shade of vermilion that he would be mistaken for a little devil, but he was close enough. To the blissfully ignorant, the male hyena might have looked intimidating. To those aware of his clownish personality, they might think, “Oh, it’s just that weirdo”. Waffle stopped a distance before the entrance.

Lifting his head, he took a moment to look around. A loose smile tugged the corner of his mouth. Oooooh yeah – what was he supposed to be doing?

“You rang?” he asked.

The large shadow of the lion slid across the wall, dancing from the flicking light of the torches. A low, rumbling chuff answered Zira's call as the red-eyed lion crept forward towards his queen. "What can I do for you, Queen Zira?" he asked, voice gravelly and deep. The same one that would scare his opponents in the Roman arena. Even though Claudius would never go back there, he still had blood-lust flowing through his veins. He shook his dark-colored and took a seat in front of Zira, waiting patiently for the other soldiers to arrive. He assumed others would hear the queen's call, no one could've missed it.

Unbeknownst to Zira, she had been followed to the prison before she had even sent up her call. The ginger tom had mastered the art of slipping silently through the shadows after the Outlands royalty. His desire for them to view him favourably had made them a target of his interest and so he had been keeping secret watch over both of them. Any additional information he picked up could easily be turned to his advantage.

And Zira seemed to have particular interest in the makeshift prison that had been fashioned from the tallest of the termite mounds.

Choosing to wait until others had arrived before revealing himself, (because arriving too quickly would look very suspicious) the tom slunk from the shadows to sit himself in front of Zira. Only a hyena and another lion had appeared but they would do for cover for the moment. His main focus would always be the queen. Her and Scar's good graces were what mattered to him at that moment.

"My queen." he purred, a calm smile spreading across his muzzle but not quite reaching his eyes. 

"Ugh...you've got to be kidding me..."

Zira placed her face in her palm as the scraggly group walked up. Though she already had Sly-Eye set as her warden of sorts, these things didn't seem to be the ones she was looking for. Claudius maybe. Lions were always better than nothing. "Fiiiine," she whined, "If I must have just you then I must just have you. If anyone else straggles along behind, they'll straggle along behind." She raised her paw to her masterpiece.

"THIS is a prison of the highest order," she hissed, "I have taken good care to make this as uncomfortable for our prisoners as possible. I'm hoping these cells will be filled by the month's end. Hopefully." It was a thought that would probably go in vain, she knew that. She shrugged her shoulders and looked down.

"And what makes you all qualified to run my prison?" She asked with a snarl on her tongue.

"You must walk proud and noble," those were the words his mother had told him when he was a fawn. It was one of the few times he had actually listened to his mother, as a fawn he was a spoiled little brat, often getting his way whether it be getting more playtime with his whining and whinging or getting to stay up later than any of the other fawns, including Bambi and his mate. But now as an adult, Ronno had finally stopped acting like a baby and acted his age. He was an adult and after all, adults didn't bitch and cry about petty reasons like getting to stay up late and the latter. Silently, Ronno struted forward, proudly towards Zira, Waffle and the white chimpanze, awaiting the Queen's order.

Upon entering the crudely decorated termite mound Zira had seemingly managed to fashion into a form of make-shift prison, the best circumstances and surroundings could provide at least, the tiger soon found himself regretting such a decision. Fur bristling in what appeared to be agitation as his gaze flickered towards the blazing torches that simply added even more of a primitive vibe to the slanted and thus far unoccupied 'cells', the vague faces he found himself among did little to improve his strained patience, for he stumbled upon the recruitment without the intention of doing so, mistaking her violent outcry for one of usually merciless anger and trailing it in the hopes of witnessing the execution of the unfortunate soul stupid enough to provoke her.

Not that he'd have come at her beck and call if he had in fact understood what it meant, for regardless of the War at hand he intended to preserve his dignity, what was left of it at least and as far as the majority of his species were concerned, a tiger did not answer to the likes of a lion or any other animal besides it's own blood. 'Prison?' Echoed he in his usual monotone drawl, making an effort to appear somewhat at ease despite the spluttering flames that provided the necessary light 'And here I thought we were at war. The art of war is rather simple, you kill and move elsewhere, what use have we of braking the foolish, fragile spirits of man's many cubs?' The words were on the very tip of his tongue, for a few brief moments he even dared to consider voicing them, before of course thinking better of it. They'd probably think his tactical words weakness, and if not that then that the blood-lust had begun to settle upon him. Features portraying a mixture of attentiveness and partial amusement, it was only after reconsidering his words to a more harmless remark he would allow his silken voice to rebound off of the crevice-filled walls, 'How... Interesting.' 

So what if he was a little late to the party, so to speak? Toulouse was just as dedicated to the cause as anyone else, and he fully intended to prove his worth to Zira as some sort of officer of the... Prison? He'd heard her correctly, it seemed, as that was what had been said when he came padding up through the darkness. Green eyes flickered in the dark and he looked around at everything that he already could see. The prison didn't appear to be all that comfortable. He supposed that was the point, though. If it was comfortable then it wouldn't be a prison. The young feline looked over the others present, too, and he had to suppress the urge to groan when he saw Oliver. The other tom had given him and his family nothing but grief the whole while he'd known them. Well... That wasn't true. He'd at least been nice to Marie in some part. Even so, Toulouse wasn't exactly leaping for joy when he saw him. But that hardly mattered. He had to prove that he could handle the task at hand.

"I can't speak for anyone else," Toulouse said, "but I feel I'm qualified because I'm willing to do whatever I have to to make sure things go right here." It was a little ironic, considering that he had broken his brother out of a prison some time ago, but there he was getting ready to put himself in service to Zira being a prison warden of sorts. His tail flicked from side to side and he gave the prison another look. Yes... He could make this work. He could envision the possibilities of prisoners being kept there... Particularly prisoners that he felt deserved to suffer for their crimes.

"I could do whatever you asked of me," he told her. He'd already demonstrated his loyalty to Zira in the past when that blasted cocker spaniel, the one who had been so high and mighty, had been a guest in the Outlands. Toulouse was willing to prove that same loyalty again if he had to.

"Oh thank you for your offered wisdom, Shere khan, it was most welcome."

Her tongue was thick with sarcasm. She rolled her eyes and pointed to the complex. "Imagine the leverage we'd have over the heroes or human villains if we kept their people prisoner? This was is no longer so simple, my friend. No. It's grown beyond our control. I'm just trying to even the playing field."

Which kitten was this one? Oh, the loyal one. She nodded at his words. He was little but she knew not to underestimate the small. "Indeed," she said, "Seems you and Oliver are the only ones who show any enthusiasm here." She rolled her golden eyes and lept down from the rock. "Follow me. And stick close."

She walked into the prison, the animal fat lights flickering. She'd had Kerchek hang torches and such. Helpful hands were helpful. "What do you think?" She snickered. As if she cared what they thought. It was glorious in her eyes.