39: The Donjon
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The unconscious debuff faded slowly, letting my bruised body revert back into an awakened state. I came to confused and half alert, grunting in annoyance as water dripped down on my head from the ceiling. The light scratching of rats scuttling in the walls told me the {Guards} had dumped me in some unkept part of the keep.

My face was pressed into a damp pillow, inhaling the faint scent of mold and other, less pleasant odors I couldn't identify. Groaning, I rolled onto my back, shivering as a chilly breeze brushed against my bare arms-

Wait.

My armor! It was gone!

I jolted upright, moving so fast I tumbled out of the too-small cot I'd been placed in. I hit the ground with a thud, groaning as my bruised shoulder slammed against the packed dirt floor. Seeing as I hadn't fully healed from trying to break down that wooden door earlier, I must not have been knocked out for long.

They'd taken the time to strip me down to my trousers - the arses had even taken my socks! - and dump me to wherever here was. By the look of the poorly maintained cot, the vandalized walls, and the bars blocking my escape from the room, I gathered I was in the donjon. Rella had told me it's where there kept rowdy visitors and the odd {Thief}. Sometimes, she said, she'd catch a Player trying to sneak into a vault. The trail of bodies they left behind was easy enough to follow.

"Great," I muttered, rubbing my arms. "I'm being treated like an invader for telling off some stupid sloth man."

The incessant wind coming from the barred window in the top corner of my cell was enough to make my situation a thousand times worse. With my height, I could reach the window easily enough so I stuffed the pillow - it wasn't useful anyway, given how wet and smelly it was - in front of it. Then, I dragged the cot away from the leak in the ceiling pushing it horizontal to the cell bars. I didn't know how long I was going to be imprisoned and I didn't want a damp cot to ruin my stay any further.

That taken care of, I stepped up the cell bars. The rusted metal was thick and firmly bolted in place. I wouldn't have been able to force my escape even if I wanted to. Maybe with my spear...

Truly, I felt naked without my trusted weapon at my side. We'd bonded ever since I stole it off that invader some time ago. I'd even given it a name: Black Tide. I didn't actually know what a tide was, but the name resounded with me. Every time I held it in my hands, I felt invincible, like no matter what I was up against, I had the assured victory. The inevitable {Spearman} - because {Guard} didn't fit here.

And now...now I had no idea where it was. A part of me knew it was closeby - although I'm not sure how but it wasn't here and that's what mattered.

Frustrated, I banged against the bars. "Hey!" I called. "You nutty wankers wanna let me out so I can do my job? I'm not a criminal!"

"Don't bother," a gruff yet feminine voice said curtly. "The more you complain, the longer you'll rot in here."

I spun, dropping into a fighting stance and mentally priming my skills for activation. I hadn't, for some reason, noticed the short but stocky woman lying hunched on a cot I also hadn't noticed on the other side of the cell. "You...who are you?" And how come I couldn't sense you with [Lesser Radar]?!

She shrugged but didn't move to face me. "I'm just a Gnome...Here for plot purposes or whatever...Probably supposed to tell you important info about the keep and whatnot...I guess I can-"

"Bull," I interrupted. "You've got power, some skill that lets you hide from my skill and I don't like that." I stalked toward her, pressing [Battle Sense] to track her every move. The skill strained to keep up, struggling to catalog decent information on this new adversary. "So I'll ask you again," I said, halting a foot away from her cot.

"Who. Are. You?"

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