The first thing you notice is the smell. It's not the overripe smell of unwashed bodies or the damp earth of a flooded river. It's ammonia and feces, like you've woken up in a port-a-potty. You open your eyes and see stone walls and a floor covered in straw. The one light source comes through a barred window. You're in a dungeon. Who put's the dead in a dungeon?

The heavy wooden door, aka the only exit, opens and a small head pops in. The height at which it appears suggests it should belong to a three year old child. What, or who, steps in is perfectly in proportion for an adult that just happens to stand only three feet tall. She, very evidently a she with that body, is scowling at you but you're more fascinated by the bright blue hair. That's not a color that appears in nature, not even on flowers. She squeaks something at you in that language everyone was speaking at the gate. You shake your head.

"Nope, even your high pitched voice I don't speak whatever that is," you say and start to push yourself from the ground. A crossbow appears from no where (seriously, where was she hiding it?) and she grins.

"Merreh kin," she says gleefully and shoots you. She has good aim. You know what is going to happen.

How many times are you going to kill me for being stubborn?!