Decided to switch my SIFrp game night blogs over to my other site. And poor Marisily finally started getting good rolls!
Marisily’s lids fluttered open, not as heavy as they had been in the past, well, months. Sitting up did not make her head spin, and standing did not send sharp stabs of pain shooting through her legs. Two days in the upper cells were not ideal, but there were no sounds of torture, nor the lingering stench of death. Never, ever would she complain after her days in the dark below. She now had a bed, and food, and the haunting echo of Captain Garen’s heavy, injured shuffle only sounded in her dreams.
The echo of hushed whispers of prison guards trickled down from the far end of the hall. Mors was not in his seat, but Larklan remained at his post before her cell doors. Pulling a scratchy blanket around her weak, aching shoulders, Marisily made her way to the bars in attempt to better hear.
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