Bhathig woke up, her head groggy. A thick iron collar around her neck, shackles around her wrists and ankles chained her to the wall. Her superior darkvision was able to pick up details in the shrouded room, the sole illumination a candle burning fitfully on a small table just outside the bars of her cell. She tried to remember how she had arrived in the cell, but her memory was fuzzy. The last thing she remembered were glass globes being dropped from holes in a ceiling... and then nothing. She stared down at her body. At least she was still wearing her armor, a boiled leather cuirass along with leather greaves. She narrowed her eyes, spotting her axe leaning against the wall, outside of the bars. There was no sign of her comrades, the elfin bladesinger Daschia and the human thief, Lanex Sin. Maybe they had escaped? Then she recalled the trap that Lanex had fallen through and she closed her eyes. Maybe they were dead then, or captured or... She shook her head, banishing those thoughts. Worrying about what might be would get her nowhere. She had to focus on what she could control.
She strained against the chains binding her, but they were well bolted into the walls. She felt around the collar, but could feel no lock, no clasp to release it. The shackles too looked like they had been welded on, with no sign of how to remove them. She slumped down against the wall, breathing heavily, exhausted from her effort but not having anything to show for it.
After a while a goblin entered the cell area. He was carrying a tray and what looked like food and a cup.
"Heh heh, looks like org girlie is awake now. You like those chains?" The goblin chortled to himself as she set the tray down, pushing it through a slot in the cells. "Goblin smiths make good chains. Hold even orc sluts well."
Bhathig glared at the short humanoid, feeling her anger rising. She decided to save her anger and try diplomacy instead.
"Why not let me go?" Bhathig asked. She wished she possessed the charm of Lanex, though she wondered if the silver tongued thief would be able to talk herself out of this mess. "Goblins and orcs... we're not so different, are we?"
Orcs and goblins, though often conflated by those less academically inclined, actually had very little in common, being two distinct races. Goblins were short, bandy legged, and known for digging burrows and taking over ruins when and where they could. Orcs, however, tended to tower over humans, were broadly muscular and, at least in their recorded history, tended to live a nomadic lifestyle. About the only thing they did have in common was that the more "civilized" races held a general distrust of both. Still, it was not unheard of for an orc or a goblin to join with a group of adventurers at least for a short period of time.
The goblin jailor laughed at Bhathig. "Heh, not so different. Bet you'd love to get your hands on my neck, wring it good, yes?"
Bhathig frowned briefly, for such a thought had crossed her mind. "N-no, of course not. I just thought you could maybe see to letting me go."
The goblin laughed to himself. "You came with the human and the elf, didn't you? Hoping to find treasure maybe?" He pushed the tray closer to her. "Go on, eat, eat. You must be hungry, thirsty."
Bhathig's heart dropped when she heard the goblin mention the elf and the human. Did that mean that Daschia and Lanex had been captured after all? Her stomach growled, betraying her hunger and she ran her tongue over her cracked, dry lips.
"What did you poison it with, you little green toad?" Bhathig asked. The chains gave her just enough slack to reach the plate. There was some kind of overcooked meat on the tray, along with a hard slab of bread. The rough clay mug seemed to just contain water.
"Poison?" The goblin almost looked like he was offended by the insinuation. "Goblins don't poison guests."
"So I'm a guest then am I?" Bhathig asked with some venom. "Not exactly the most hospitable quarters I've been in."
The goblin spat on the stone floor. "Unwelcome guest. Didn't invite you. Didn't tell you to come here. Go on, eat, eat. Drink. Then introduce you to Korrak."
Bhathig started to ask who or what Korrak was but decided to bide her time instead. She pulled the tray closer. She tasted the meat. It was tough and burnt, but mostly edible. She sniffed the water and sipped it. Nothing seemed amiss so she finished the meal and the drink. The jailor sat at the table. He picked up her axe with some effort and studied it.
"So this Korrak, is he your chief?"
"Hmm? No, Korrak not chief. Korrak... what you say? Ally. Friend."
"Why would I want to meet this Korrak of yours?" she asked. As she spoke, she felt her thoughts go fuzzy, like it was hard to hold onto them. Her vision blurred slightly, and she felt thirsty. She reached for the cup, but it was already empty. When did she finish the drink?
The goblin shrugged. "You don't. But he want to meet you. Korrak not like goblin women. Too small for Korrak. You... still small. But might be good."
"W-what?" Bhathig asked. She tried to get to her feet, but stumbled. She started giggling, and couldn't figure out why. Something in the water?
"Heh heh," the goblin started laughing. He walked over to the cell and unlocked it with a heavy iron key.
"You put something in the water." Bhathig giggled again. Why was it so funny? And why did her head feel so fuzzy?
"No, not in water. Seasoning on meat. Make you feel good," The jailor said.
Bhathig watched the jailor approach with heavy lidded eyes. He said something and touched the collar, the shackles. They glowedd briefly, and then the chains dropped away. Bhathig thought she should fight, she should run, but a pink haze descended over her mind and she giggled again. Why would she want to run?
