Damage warnings flooded my senses, and thoughts flowed like viscous slime through my head. I wasn't rational, but I was awake. On reflex I let out a groan, or perhaps it was more of a scream, I couldn't tell because my ears weren't working properly. My whole body felt like I had been thrown down a hill while I was out, and as I moved around the pain faded, only to be replaced with an intolerable itching and chills. I scratched at myself but the itching wouldn't stop, and I curled in on myself to try to conserve heat but only felt colder.

Everything was so bright that I was squinting without even trying to, and my ears began to thump with such ferocity that it felt like the room was shaking. I let out another sound but stopped once my rational mind started to rouse from its own slumber. I was... in the village, I thought with a series of deep breaths, something hit my back and now I'm... where am I?

Once that I was more in control of myself I did my best to calm my overloaded senses and figure out what was going on. It took a while for my eyes to stop trying to tell me that they were being burned by the light, but eventually they began to return to their previous level of focus. A flickering light hung behind some bars, a torch of some sort which had been mounted on the wall. I pushed myself up into a kneeling position and caused another wave of pain to erupt inside my forehead. Looking around, I could see that I was surrounded by roughly hewn stone on four sides, with wooden boards above me and a dirt floor below me.

In a panic I searched my body and found that my gear was gone. All I had been left with was my lower covering, all of my weapons and cordage had been taken from me. I got to my feet and walked towards the bars only to almost fall on my face when a force tugged against my left ankle. I looked down and let my eyes focus, seeing a manacle wrapped around my leg with a thick iron chain attached. The chain bound me to the back wall of the cell and wouldn't let me get closer than one and a half meters from the bars in front of me. So they threw me in the cell, I thought with a scowl, I guess it was too dark to see the chain.

Some time passed and I paced around my cell, trying to think of some kind of escape plan. Tugging on the chain made it quite obvious that my strength was not sufficient to break it. Even if I yanked on this as hard as I could, I doubt I would do more damage to the bindings than to myself, I thought. I examined my manacle's locking mechanism and found it similar to the one I had seen on the front of the building I was now standing under. Key shaft diameter is just over half a centimeter, with teeth extending for two centimeters, I thought as I bent myself around into uncomfortable positions to get the light to shine on the mechanism, Looks like the key needs to go to at least a depth of five centimeters. It's pretty unlikely I could pick it without a specialized tool.

I also examined my back as well as I could, searching for the points of the impacts I had felt. I realized they were impacts upon reviewing my memories, and that what had most likely happened was that I was struck with their some kind of electrical or chemical dart weapon. I've never heard of an electric blowgun before, I thought to myself, but I suppose there's a first time for everything. They must have hit one of the transfer cables in my spine. I couldn't find any raised bumps on my back at all, so either the darts were very thin or I had been unconscious for a few days. Well, now all I need to do is wait, I supposed. I sat down in the rough center of my cell, made myself comfortable, and did my best to use my thoughts productively until someone came down to speak to me.

I could hear noise outside the cell occasionally bleeding in through the trapdoor. Most of it was speech in various tones, some being so high that I had to assume it was coming from children. A few times there were banging noises on the trapdoor but no indication that it would open. I really hope they aren't just going to leave me down here, I thought, it would be shameful to end a mission with a failure like this. As if to reply to me, I heard the trapdoor open soon after I finished my thought.

The sound of boots on wooden stairs changed to boots on stone, and a man rounded the corner to face my cell. Like the one I had encountered in the forest, this man's hair was a shade of blonde and his eyes were red. Unlike that man, however, this one was shorter and wider by around five percent in each dimension, and his face was visibly shaven. He wore woven pants and a leather tunic, both in shades of brown with the darker shade belonging to the pants. When he saw me his eyebrows raised in surprise and he had to steady his hold on the platter in his hands.

“Spaot sehpeyzm yaal,” the man said. “Taalawm ngoyvaor shao eykiht ehvpahjhao.” I watched him, meeting his gaze from my seated position, looking for some indication as to his meaning. “Taon zaeveylm, ler sowjh,” he said in a stern voice. As he said it he looked towards the platter in his hand, so I could only assume that he was talking about the food. We stared each other down for another little while, then the man shrugged and turned around to walk away.

“What, you just came down here to taunt me?” I asked aloud. The man froze and looked back at me, once again almost dropping his platter. At first he looked fearful, but then his face changed into curiosity.

“Zer gow taal znaot,” he snorted, walking up to the door of the cell. He picked up something from the platter he was holding and reached inside the cell, dangling it in front of me with a smile on his face. “Kawlm sowjh?” he asked, “Ae ler gow sheydhwpao.” I took a closer look and saw that he was holding a cooked piece of the bulbous tuber roots which had made me sick some few nights ago between his fingers. Trying to poison me? I thought with a small derisive laugh, Try harder. The man saw my laugh and responded to it by sticking the food in his mouth.

“I sincerely hope you aren't as stupid as I think you are,” I said with my calculated taunting smile. The man looked at me with confusion, then made a humming noise and rubbed his belly. Is he trying to convince me that it's good food? I wondered. The man picked up another one of the bulbs and threw it into the cell towards me. I caught it out of the air and examined it, finding that it was covered in some sort of fatty liquid as well as spices. My stomach made its best effort to rumble. I suppose a small amount might not hurt, I thought as I popped it into my mouth.

“Gahz, wiyjh sowjh,” the man said with a wide smile, his tone dripping with condescension. I had to admit, the food tasted quite good. Much like the venison I had pilfered it had many different flavors which indicated nutrients. I stood up and walked over to the door, stopping just short of the chain's length. The man's eyes grew wide as I towered over him by a head. He looked down at the chain on my leg, then back up to me, and I could see his free hand slowly moving towards a dagger at his waist.

“The food is for me, right?” I asked. “Then give it here.” I gestured at the platter, then to the floor in front of me. He might have to unlock the door to slide it in, I thought, if he does then I can use that opportunity to grab him. He might have a key on him for these manacles. The man reached into a pocket on his tunic and took out a long key, sliding it into the lock for the door. With a forceful twist he unlocked the door, swinging it outwards towards him. I kept my feet planted in place but readied myself. One step and he's in my grasp, I thought.

The man placed the platter on the ground and, with a push of his foot, slid it inside the cell before swinging the door closed and hastily locking it. Some of the tubers, of which there were nearly two dozen, rolled off of the platter and into the dirt. The man was breathing heavily once the door was shut, and sweat dripped from his brow. “Ztahpao npoyt,” he muttered to himself. I bent down and put the dirty food back on the platter, then set it aside.

“What is npoyt?” I asked him, staring directly into his eyes. I had heard the term several times and knew it was likely something rude, but if I was going to be trapped I figured it would be best to start picking up the language. The man paused, unsure of what to say.

“Wattiz npoyt?” he mimicked, trying to repeat what I said to him. “Gow tehvoydh yao npoyt?” His tone grew angrier as he spoke, his confidence renewed by the bars between us. Well it's certainly not something polite then, I thought, knowing an insult could be useful if they're all as hot-tempered as him. Compared to the icy warbreed personalities I was used to this man was almost comically easy to anger.

“What is sehpeyzm yaal?” I asked, trying my luck again. I figured that the phrase was two words from the way it was spoken, having a slight pause between the zm and ya sounds. The man sneered at me and drew his knife, pointing it at me through the bars.

“Sehpeyzm yaal oyb npoyt,” he hissed, “zmowneyjh aaleyyeyv.” I squatted down and began eating some of the tubers since my mouth was watering at the smell of them. The whole time I kept my eyes on the man, wanting him to know that our conversation had not yet ended. So is sehpeyzm yaal a challenge of some kind? I asked myself as I went back through my memories to remember other times I had heard the phrase and the context I had heard it in. I suppose not, unless that prisoner was challenging me to a fight before I had even begun torturing him. Maybe a noun or a title? I don't know enough about the grammar to make that determination. Looking up at the man, I pointed to myself.

“Sehpeyzm yaal,” I said firmly. The man cocked his head at me. I pointed to him, then repeated “Sehpeyzm yaal.” He scoffed in apparent disgust and put his knife away, turning around and walking back up the stairs before I could try to stop him. Now I'm just confused, I thought, could it be another insult? Just how many do these people have? I continued to eat, brushing dirt off of the tubers as I shoved them into my mouth until nothing was left. I could have used some water, I grumbled as I reached down and began trying to split apart the wooden platter.

For the rest of what felt like a day I worked on trying to create a wooden key for my manacles out of the remnants of the platter. I managed to probe the lock and found that its internal dimensions were about what I expected, but all of my efforts to make a key which could turn the mechanism failed. I had a moment of panic when the teeth from one of my dummy keys broke off inside the lock, but I managed to fish them out with another piece of wood. Even if I can't get it off right now I'd rather not make it inoperable, I thought, I would hate to have to rip off my foot to get out of this.