On the positive side the improvised prison cell they were thrown in was nice as far as improvised cells go, no rats (rats tend to make themselves scarce when the undead are involved, given that they carry no food, are rather past BEING food, and will turn you into food that was a trio of negatives from a ratty perspective.) Only itty bitty cockroaches (you know those things get in everywhere, there was a theory that if there ever was a megasqwoomph and they were at ground zero they’d probably be completely unharmed by it, except maybe.... you know... mutating to gigantic size. What? Theoretical mages are allowed their flights of fancy too, even if they include huge roaches.) Hell there was even some semblance of furniture, course said semblance had long since turned into crumbling splinters and rotten fabric, but it’s the thought that counts right?

There were of course negative sides too, like no matter how nicely it was improvised it was still an improvised prison cell, and any potential backup they had was probably a tad too big to fit in the spaces they would need to fight in (not to mention as a construct had somewhat of a conflict of interest when it came to combating necromantic constructs, when there may be potential to open up a dialogue further down the line, assuming everybody survived of course. So had excused themselves from this particular mission by volunteering to guard the carriage, and by extension the village, rather than potentially put them all in danger by hesitating at a bad time.) So they were on their own. To make matters worse given that this was a newly improvised cell it didn’t have any previous inmates to team up with to plot, and the ominous unknown undead outside made that a tad more challenging. To add insult to injury they had no ways to improvise an escape at this time, their captors (inconsiderate bastards that they were) hadn’t had the common decency to leave a lax guard, hidden exit, skeleton of a former prisoner with a clue on their person (again what part of new cell are you missing?) Beloved daughters of the warden to romance and convince to help you (like they would ever stoop so low, that was a real dick move.) Hell there wasn’t even a SPOON they could somehow use to dig their way out (are you surprised? Undead in case you missed it are not big eaters, well except zombies, but if there were any zombies in this place hey were far enough past their expiry that they had become skeletons by accident anyway, which was just as well, zombies like puppies have an annoying tendency to get nibbly when overexcited, and unlike puppies it isn’t cute, and tends to have unfortunate consequences. That and zombies weren’t cute when they chewed on you.)

They had been prepared to attempt an escape by barging out when mealtime came around, but unfortunately there was a snag there. Having a lack of a stomach tended to mean that you forgot others had that particular feature, that and the distinct shortage of potential ingredients in a place where nobody ate kind of meant meal times were treated as an optional extra, that they didn’t have the option of.

They had tried hiding in the cell to feign escape, but that hadn’t worked out so well for multiple reasons. 1. there were a distinct shortage of hiding places in a bare stone cell, and none of them really fit Sir Leeroy, who was built like the proverbial brick outhouse. He had tried his best, bless him, but the attempt to take cover behind the crumbling furniture had been about as convincing as a four year olds attempt at hide and seek (except they were allowed to find Sir Leeroy, for the four year old there’s pretty much an unwritten rule you must pretend they were harder to find than a puzzle book protagonist’s pet chameleon’s keys which they had just down put somewhere safe before wandering off to do something else.) 2. the only other cover in the room were the piles of what had once been fabric bedding, that were first off gross, and second off full of more holes than your average colander. Oh that and when they’d tried it the skeletons just poked a spear through the bars and prodded the bedding till they had to break cover. So that plan really didn’t work too well. They had even tried the age old trope of faking illness. This had caused quite a stir amongst their captors for a little while, with more gathering by the bars. But they didn’t seem to be opening the cell or particularly concerned about the outcome, just sitting round watching, and waiting for something. (Hell look at it from their perspective, they had prisoners they really sucked at looking after, and inside each and every one of them was a potential team mate just waiting to bust out of their meat prison and join the party. Until then they had an annoying set of guests who kept doing gross live-y things, like making weird grumbly noises, demanding a toilet (or at least a bucket, which some poor slob was going to have to clean out.) Trying to escape from the cell without food, useable bedding, a toilet, or even a bucket. Oh and their breathing was annoying. Seriously what was with humans and making unpleasant, and constant annoying noises? They really needed to quit that. So can you really blame them for wanting their prisoners to quit it with the respiring, and get on with the obvious process of expiring?

Mibbet and the others of course had no intentions of going along with such a thing, though it did cut off the most time honoured, and traditional method of egress for prisoners like them. (To be fair it wasn’t one they were particularly fond of as an option anyway, being somewhat terminal for them.) So all they could do was wait, and see what happened. Inside their head Rosalind stirred and scoffed, knowing their captivity would one way or another be temporary. If they were delayed too long their erstwhile captors were screwed. She really hoped they weren’t though, that was one storm she had no desire to get caught up in.