Beginnings, part 2

Your impromptu conversation is interrupted by the sound of metal scraping at one end of your stone cell. There is a brief silence, and then a rusty squeal as something slides into or out of place and the iron door is shoved open. Torchlight blinds you. Around you, the other prisoners groan and stir. You hear the tromp of mailed feet on stone, and as your eyes adjust to new light, you discern the silhouettes of several guards, two of whom set a large, wooden trough on the floor. "Alright, eat," one says, and both step back. Almost before he has finished speaking, several of the emaciated bodies around you have risen and shuffled forward. The first plunges its hands into the trough and scoops up a mass of gray gruel. The rest follow suit and begin to gulp down the gobs of sticky substance.

Note
The cell around you is larger than you thought: perhaps four by five meters, crammed with near-naked, pale bodies. There are maybe fifteen other slaves in the space, including those with whom you've been speaking. The walls and ceiling are of hewn granite. There is but one entrance, the iron door through which the guards entered, and it is built into a short recess in the center of one of the narrower walls.