A dungeon.

You wake to find yourself hanging against a wall from your hands that are in manacles. Sadly this is only a guess based on feeling as your head is also in a a thick sack. You twitch and quickly realize your ankles are similarly bound. By the feel of it you are still dressed at least, and you are still female. Which has you wondering, has it been so little time, did someone put the belt back on you, or is it actually permanent. Your face demands the most attention and as your wits fully return the pain in your face is all you can really think about. Concentrating to set aside the pain you summon your magic and try to cast a healing spell on yourself. Thankfully it works and you continue to channel magic till your pain is gone.

“Help.” You say quietly.

Someone coughs, “I see I have company. Why are you here?” The voice is rough and full of pain.

“I have no idea, I don’t even know where here is.”

“You are in the Kings dungeon. I am to be executed in three days. I wonder if you will last longer.” The strained voice says slowly.

“Shit, really. I need to get out of here.”

The sound of a heavy door opening breaks the silence. Several sets of heavy boot steps get closer and closer. A second metal door opens with a creak. A heavy hand is on your head, then the bag is pulled off. Two men that are so big they don’t even seem human. Each is easily 8’ tall with leathery brown skin. They wear studded leather armor and have swords at their waists. A third figure looks at you from under the hood of a thick black cloak. He is tall, well over 6’, but thin and between the two veritable giants he seems tiny. He speaks with a familiar lisp, “Where is she?”

“I don’t know who you are talking about.” Your answer gets you punched in the stomach hard enough to knock the wind out of you.

While you are gasping for air he demands, “You will tell me where you have hidden the princess or you will die a most painful ****.”

When you catch your breath you say, “You have the wrong girl. I swear I have no idea what you are talking about.”

One of them grabs your face. “Someone healed her look.” He says with thick gravel in his voice.

The robed figure steps up and looks closely at you revealing his scaled snake like head, “Who? Who has healed you?” He hisses.

“I.” Is all you get out before the big ones hand clamps your mouth shut.

The snake man casts a spell that grips your mind, but only for an instant, “Now you will tell me who has healed you.”