S
sageridder
Guest
Deep in a long ago depleted mine is the prison city of the doomed. Long ago left the harmonious work songs of the dwarves that dug the tunnels to only be replaced by the dread and futility of those incarcerated here. In other prisons you might even pass the time with the mindless work assignments you had thrust upon you. This is a prison exclusively for thieves and tools of any sort could lead to escape so the occupants sat like caged animals. They were the twelve most infamous thieves in the land. There was not a one in the lot that would not slit someone’s throat for coin of the realm. Although kept separate, there seemed to be one prisoner that was a leader of sorts. His name was Soloman. This night was a night like any other; quiet, dreary and hopeless. That was all broken by the sudden excitement going on. None of the prisoners had a clue as to what was going on. Guards were hollering and running about. Then all went silent. All too silent. Rumors started to spread among the prisoners. Soloman bellowed, “They have left us to rot as they go to war with the dragons. I will not live on my knees any longer. I would rather die on my feet”.
Soloman had a lock pick embedded in his left forearm. He could have used it years ago, but knew the time wasn’t right until now …
Soloman had a lock pick embedded in his left forearm. He could have used it years ago, but knew the time wasn’t right until now …