Escape from Cragpoint

Escape from Cragpoint

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A tickle on your face wakes you, and after brushing away a spindly spider you sit up and let your eyes focus. Your head throbs in pain, blurred memories of combat returning as you look around the cobblestone cell.

Dark and damp, the only illumination is from a handful of glowcap mushrooms, their soft blue luminescence giving shape to the square room. A crude iron door sits closed before you, and to your back a tiny window that only a malnourished rat could squeeze through. A bucket sits in the corner, and a wet burlap sack lies beneath you.

Patting yourself down, you notice that all your gear, weapons, potions and sundries have been taken. In fact even your clothes are gone, and you now sit naked with nothing to hide your shame. Thankfully the poor excuse for a bed was left with a drawstring, and after ripping two holes in the bottom, you make yourself a very simple pair of shorts.

It hurts to finally stand, all your muscles aching painfully as you push yourself up. It's practically a fight just to overcome your own weight, and it occurs to you that you have no idea how much time has passed since you were last awake.

Limping to the barred iron door, you grab the cold metal and lean into it, helping to reduce the strain of standing. Wherever you are it's eerily quiet, with little more than faint drops of water and the scurrying of mice. Beyond the locked door leaves little to see, as there are no torches or light sources down the long black corridor.

You resist the urge to speak, unsure who has captured you and what their intent is. Typical human dungeon's have guards, lights and patrols, but this place is absent of all. Adjusting your stance against the door, it's only as you lean back do you notice a wobble and squeak to the iron.

Pulling and pushing the bars, you hear the faint patter of crumbling stone at your feet. The more you wiggle the bars, the more they move, and after plucking a glowcap for a better look, you find the cobblestone mortar chipping away from the frame.

You're still weak, but it wouldn't take much to dislodge a couple bars, letting you squeeze through to freedom. Having a distinct feeling that no good can come from staying, you gather the rest of the glowcaps for a light source as you begin pushing and pulling the bars.

The activity helps warm your muscles, and after several minutes you manage to break away enough mortar for the first bar to flex wide. The one directly beside it is next, and so again you begin rocking the bar back and forth to weaken its foundation. Surprisingly this one seems weaker, and after a few minutes the bar starts to actually bend.

While difficult to see in the dark, the metal is clearly in worse shape than you thought, with some spots rusted or damaged. The bar you continue rocking soon gets easier to move, and with its bending point growing weaker with each push it finally snaps free. Heavy and blunt, you give the darkness a satisfied grin as you grip the iron like a weapon.