With a gasp you open your eyes and find you're not in the forest anymore. Stone walls surround you and molded, musty straw cushions the ground. It smells strongly of ammonia and you wrinkle your nose. The only light in the room comes through the iron barred window in the thick, heavy door and that light is faint. You don't need to try the door to know it's locked but you do anyway. Taking time to look beyond the window you see one of the guards counting coins into the Amish looking man's hand. None look your way. You're in a prison or dungeon and, a quick pat of your clothing proves, have only your shirt and pants. The apron, shoes, socks, keys... they've all been removed. You slump back down onto the soiled straw and consider you're situation.
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There's not much to consider. You're not MacGyver and can't get yourself out of this with a shoelace and a lighter, not that you have either of those. Besides, the guard is approaching the cell door; you can hear his footsteps and the jingle of the keys. A guard or the like is coming towards your cell, if you're lucky you can ambush him and get away.

You take up position on the inside of the door just and wait while the key enters the lock and turns. The door swings open and the guards sticks his head in. He looks the other direction first and you use this opportunity to attack. You jump on his head and began pounding away but this guard is large and strong. He shrugs you off and scowls before grabbing your arm and dragging you from the cell. He doesn't bother chains as he points another crossbow at your back and encourages you to climb the stairs. After several flights you're escorted outside into the blinding sun. A hooded man with arms the size of your head and a heavy axe in one hand stands next to a wooden block a wooden platform. Stone walls surround the courtyard this platform is in and a small crowd gathers on the ramparts. They cheer as you are encouraged up the stairs.

You're still not bound and the only thing keeping you going in the right direction is the pointy bit of wood that pokes into your back. You could run. Maybe even reach that locked door before the guard could aim properly and shoot you again. But that would only delay the inevitable so you kneel at the wooden block like the guard wants you to. You close you eyes, give a silent but desperate prayer that this is all a dream, and await the executioner's axe. The thunk of metal into hard wood is the last sound you hear.

You know what happens next