"So here I am, detained again." Talking to herself, Cassandra shakes her head as she looks over the shackles that bind her hands. The weigh of the shackle drags across the scarred table as she bends her head and scratches her nose. The guard standing at the door glared at her as she slowly scratches her nose.

Not her fault that their "friends" were killed when someone attacks the detention jail at the north gate. Ten guards and six prisoners were killed from the fire that burned the jail to the ground. The one small consolation was that the guard that beat her and spit in her food was dead. Yay! For small favors. The sad part was six prisoners were killed.

'Should have stayed in the house,' Cassandra thought. She has been waiting for the last hour for "The Baron." No clue who he is, all she heard is the Baron this, and the Baron that. "The Baron will teach you a lesson." Shaking her head as she stares at a wooden cup of water next to her, wishing it was coffee and no, H.E.L.L. NO! She is not going to touch the cup. The idea that someone could have spit in it just gross her out.

She already figured out how to get out of the shackles, figuring that it should take less than twelve seconds. Once that was figured out, she started imagining what the Baron looks like from an old fart to a fat, balding man that always stuff his face.

The door opens and in walk a young man in his early twenties with a five o'clock shadow and Tom Selleck's dimples. 'Oh god, I love those dimples.' Standing close to six-foot, with wavy hair that begs to have your fingers to comb through. He is wearing a white button shirt, black jacket, and pants with a pair of black mid-calf boot. And a strange medallion around his neck showing the scale of justice. Guess this world uses the same imagery for justice.

'Damn! He's not fat or bald!' Admiring his body and the dimples as she straightens up. Hearing a snort and laughter from a young girl behind him. She can see that the girl has blue hair and blue eyes with long pointed ears that screams elf that stood about as tall as her own five-foot frame. A dash of freckle across the bridge of her perky little nose as the laughter in her blue eyes made her eyes seem to dance. She can hear an echo of the girl laughter in her head. Cassandra panic for a second and scream in her head 'GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HEAD!' glaring at the girl.

Then she closes her eyes and started singing ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall.

The elf was stunned from the mental yell, as she almost collapsed onto the ground. If not for the man that caught her before she fell, she would have been on the floor. After sitting her on a chair, he turns his attention to the woman before him. No, not a woman but a teenage girl singing a strange song that he never heard before, what in the sevens hells is beer?

Slamming the palm of his hand on the table with a bang, the girl flinches for a second while continuing to sing under her breath. He looks at the elf and seeing her shake her head, meaning she can't get through to read the girl's mind.

Pulling a chair out to sit in, he was about to slam his palm on the table again when the girl spoke without opening her eyes.

"Careful, you might get a splinter, the table is crappy workmanship," Cassandra said, opening her right eye as the man hand stop above the table.

"What did you do to my friend?" he snaps.

Cassandra cocks her head to one side, staring at him then the elf until she turns her gaze back at him.

"You know you got cute dimples." Smirking inside, trying to throw the man off his game.

First, a slight blush creeps up his neck to his cheeks and a look of surprise, then frustration followed by anger. Cassandra blankly stares at him, waiting for him to sort himself out while silently laughing. A snort again with a suppress laughter, the elf sat up, giving her a wink.

"I will talk to you, but no mind reading, please. I have been beaten, almost killed, harassed in the last week, and I am really am getting tired. Let alone having your food spit on, and dirty water deliver for you to drink!" Cassandra complain.

The man looks at the mug of water next to her, waving her unshackle hand at the cup. "No clue if it dirty water or if someone spits in. Hell! I don't know if Chuckles there spit in it or some other guard did since they seem to blame me for their friends' deaths," nodding to the guard at the door glaring at her while sitting back with her arms cross.

He turns and glares at the guard, "you can go." Turning back to Cassandra as the guard gave her another glare before leaving.

"Okay. My name is Sandra Hope, but I prefer to be called Cassandra. I was assaulted by one of my group mates that enter the Rat Dungeon." Shivering again about the rats. "He strangles me while trying to rape me while the rest just watched and didn't help. They left me for dead when they thought he killed me. When I awaken, I then use my illusion magic. I fled the dungeon and made my way here."

Holding up her hand to stop him from speaking. "The reason I was fleeing was that a woman came back looking for me. She was pissed off at the man for killing me. She said she was going to sell me to some eastern lords to be trained or find my magic core to be put in a sex golem. All the while complaining about losing money."

He was about to open his mouth when she held up her hand again to stop him from speaking. "No. I don't read minds." Hoping she caught them off guard, so the elf was not able to read her mind.

The man frowns as he turns and looks at the elf, and Cassandra started singing under her breath, 'The Yellow Submarine.'

The elf flicks her hair back and bows her head toward Cassandra. "My name is Clare Thoughts. I am a mental mage. I am pleased to meet you, Cassandra. Your file with the Adventurer Guild does not show you have mental powers to block my telepathy." She looks down at the shackles lying on the table. Her eyes only widen slightly as the man beside her straighten up as his eyes snap to the shackles as if he had been told that Cassandra had free herself.

Cassandra smirks and shrugs, "they forgot to lock them." She was not going to tell them she escaped from them. Being a magician and an escape artist in her former life has its benefits. As for blocking her mental powers, she has no clue other than watching TV shows about repetitive lyric or math solving to keep your mind from being read. Guess it works. Maybe a math problem next, she was good at math in school and some college when she thought about becoming an Accountant. But lack of funds and running a puppet show that was just barely paying for the one-room flat she was renting. A path not taken.

As for the shackles, she has been doing that for almost twenty years in her magician's act. Doubtful that she be able to do that in this world to make a living.

He grabs the shackles and glares at her, "These are magical shackles to dampen a mage's power, how did you get out?"

With a slight smirk, she winked at Clare and said, "Magic." Checking her nails on her right hand.

Tossing the shackles down on the table and sitting down, "You're nothing like what your files said you are!" We have three witnesses that said you died in the dungeon, and it absorbs you. The same three witnesses you said tried to kill you!" Looking frustrated. "It said you are timid and have weak spellcraft, believe to be Light base with no hint of healing abilities. Yet you don't seem scared but cocky and full of yourself. So who are you!"

With full conviction, she sits up in the chair and stares straight into the man's eyes, trying hard not to melt and speak. "I am Sandra Hope that I prefer to go by Cassandra, for I feel it is a better name for me. When they attack me as Sandra Hope, I could no longer stand being bullied and step on. With a new outlook at the life of someone that wants to live. The new me that is Cassandra has been awakened, and I will decide my life, not a bunch of thugs. If you don't believe who I am. I believe a drop of my blood on the Slate card will be verified who I am. The Slate is magical and can not be falsified? Right?" Staring with a determined look at the man with her arms cross, daring him to say she is wrong!

Closing his eyes as Clare spoke into his head that the girl is speaking truth with a hint of falseness in her wording. Pulling the Slate with her name on it, he lay it on the table.

Cassandra picks it up and looks at her name on the Slate, saying she is ranked one. Nineteen mission completed. One mission failed. Thirty-one missions are needed to reach rank two. Fined for mission fail is ten silver.

"Crap, ten silver for failing that mission." Laying the Slate on the table, "That is so unfair!"

"Fair or not, we need you to put a drop of blood on the slate." he glared at her.

Shrugging, "Well, what you want me to do? Bite myself?" waving her hand over the Slate.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled out a dagger with a dragon handle and laid it on the table.

"Wow! That beautiful." Almost reaching out to pick it up and stopped. Looking up at his eyes, "May I touch it?"

He nods, and Clare tilts her head and stares at the man.

Cassandra gently picked up the ornate blade and held it in her hands, staring at it with awe. She had a collection of knives, close to a thousand of them in her apartment that she had collected over the years. None was anywhere close to this, well except a few that she had custom made, but she can feel the magic radiating from the dagger. The name Cutter came to her mind when she touches it.

"Hmm, Cutter, please be nice and not hurt me too much. I just need a drop of blood, not a pool of blood that I know you can make." tapping the point with her finger and pricking it, causing a drop of blood to appear. Touching the Slate, the Slate begins to glow green as her name Cassandra Keep appear in place of Sandra Hope below its some words appear as AKA Sandra Hope. Mission updated to twenty mission completed

and no failure.

Cassandra pet the dagger as she carefully put it on the table and sits back then looks at both of them smugly.