Imprisonment

Pain, pain is all I know. The cursed Hobgoblins have likely done me in. I don't think I can survive another bout of their questioning. I've lost too much blood to endure further. The best I can hope for now is to die with my dignity intact. Six take every last of these foul creatures for I don't understand their motives. Their questions lack purpose and direction. They seemed to only want to torture me for the sake of it. They thrive on the pain they cause. Six take them!

The cold of this cell leaches into my body. I shift to find a more comfortable position only to find I have another unknown bruise. The smell of my own refuse assaults my senses, I'm careful to avoid that area of the cell.

I begin to loose track of how much time has passed. I realize that no one is coming for me and that I will likely die in this cell. I hear noise from above, it isn't the typical sounds the Hobgoblins make. No I hear the sounds of battle, perhaps I'm not to die down here after all.

The battle that raged above has ended and yet no one comes. All is silent and now faint traces of light descend down the stairs. As the light grows brighter a figure detaches from the shadows and stands to it's full height. The figure appears to be human, with long hair. A wicked dagger is clutched in his hand. He says nothing as he enters further into the room. His eyes taking everything in, searching for hidden enemies. Satisfied he waves his hand briefly.

I hear a commotion at the top of the stairs, within short order several other figures enter into the room. A burly dwarf in heavy armour. His axe gleaming in the light. He looks dour, perhaps the most taciturn looking dwarf I've ever seen. He is followed by a half-elf, standing tall and proud, the symbol of the Silver Flame gleaming on his chest. Next is a Warforged, his sentinel eyes absorb everything. He seems to be calculating odds as he strategically positions himself at the base of the stairs. Finally, a rare beauty. Another human and judging from her robes she practices the arcane arts. Perhaps I and the others who were taken stand a chance after all.

The first human approaches my cell. He gives me a look over and deciding I'm not a threat to him turns his attention to the lock on the door. Before I'm even aware of it I hear a click and he's opened the door to the cell. With the briefest of nods he beckons me out of the cell and moves towards the back of the room.

The others move forward and begin to question me. They've obviously been sent from the village to find me and the others. They question me about the hobgoblins asking for numbers and why we might have been taken. I answer them, but my attention is diverted by the rogue. He doesn't seem to care why we've been taken. He takes no part in the questioning, he doesn't even appear to be listening.

Instead he is studying the table on the far wall. The table with all those devices of torture. I watch his eyes move from implement to implement. He appears to be cataloguing them. Slowly he begins to pick them up, one at a time. He studies their blades, prongs and curves. He tests how sharp they are. As I watch him work with these weapons I am overcome with a sense of dread. This man is no hero come to save us. He is a killer. His hands seem much more familiar with the devices than the hobgoblin brutes.

I begin to shake and tremble. The others assume it is due to my imprisonment, the reality is I am afraid of this man. Ethan, I hear one of them call him. He looks up, his eyes intent, it's time to move onwards. He quietly climbs the staircase, silent as a ghost. I look at the others a pleading look in my eyes. Do they not know they associate with a killer? Host save me, I pray I live to see the sunlight.