I awoke with a splitting headache, 70 meters up in the air, disarmed and bound. I wriggled to get in a more comfortable position, and was swiftly warned to "not try anything funny". I continued to survey the area and loosen the ropes that bound my cuffs to my shackles. Before I could escape seriously, we began our descent into the heavily guarded fortress of Scardale. We landed before a council of magi, obviously followers of Bane and other foul gods.
They escorted us to the commander who first singled out Air-o-dill (magic users and elves have a fancy for unspellable names), and ordered her unbound. He mocked her shouting "her god has no power here". I felt obliged to mock back "I managed to slay seven of your men, perhaps you are in need of a swordsmanship tutor?" "Throw them in the dungeons, make sure the smart-ass is in the deepest cell and left to rot. We can't have them acting up when Bane arrives." A grin spread across my face, trembling with anticipation and glee "Will he visit me? I await his arrival, teeth bared." "Away with them!" he barked, and into darkness we descended.
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