Your head throbs painfully as you awaken. Despite the heavy fog in your groggy mind, you hear several people talking.

”We’re as good as dead no matter what we do. Why bother?”

”Hold your tongue, Teromil, for our companion wakes. We should not make his return to the living unpleasant.”

You slowly open your eyes. Even the dim gray light of the room hurts at first, but your eyes soon adjust to the lighting. As you look about the room, you see you are locked in an underground cell with three others from the caravan. The floor of the cell is littered with the grime of several years.

A portly, balding man walks over to you. “I am called Roderick, stranger. This is Teromil, and the elf is named Salamdros,” he says, waving his hand toward the others. You recognize Salamdros as one of the guards who captured you earlier. All of you have been stripped of your possessions, even your cloaks and boots.

Roderick kneels beside you and skillfully prods your skull. “Hold still. Tilt your head.” He pokes a swollen lump on your temple and you flinch. “Nasty lumps you have here, but you will live.” He bows his head and whispers to himself for a moment, then looks up and says, “I have some powers of healing. If you find yourself in need, tell me. But I warn you, I can heal you only once.” Go to page 56 when you decide to accept Roderick’s offer (you may find it useful to note this on a piece of scratch paper). Roderick will not heal you while your party is engaged in combat, for he will be too busy fighting to cast a spell.

You crawl to the bars of the cell. They appear to be wood, but seem unusually strong. You test them and find they are quite solid. The door is locked by a rusty padlock and chain.

”Forget it, murderer,” the elf says. “One cannot escape that way. We are doomed to die in this cell.”

The room beyond the cell is lit by a sputtering lamp on a scarred table. The crumbling walls of the chamber glisten with moisture. You hear faint echoes of dripping water behind two worn furs hanging on the chamber walls.

Teromil sits beside you. “We’re in a nasty fix, we are. Those little men’ve got us good, and I can’t say it’ll be an easy death when they do us in.” Teromil pauses, then renews his conversation, “How’d they nab you? Took five of them to pull me down. Popped off two or three more, I did. I suppose they’ll remember me for that, I do.” When you do not answer, he continues thoughtfully, “Sure was funny, the way that storm popped up, don’t you think?”

You nod in agreement and study the rest of your companions. The elf sits in the corner with his knees drawn up to his chin. Roderick continues to whisper, oblivious to the exterior world.

You hear a gruff voice humming some dark and gloomy tune as it approaches the chamber. The curtain parts and a small, scaly, dog-faced creature steps into the room. It comes to the cage and prods Teromil with a long stick. “Not much f-f-fat on you,” it stutters in Common. “B-b-b-big f-fat man there!” It points at Roderick. “M-make good d-d-dinner! Eat soon!”

It chuckles, then jabs Teromil with the stick. “You m-m-make good dessert, nice and j-j-j-juicy!”

Teromil lets out a terrific sigh and collapses to the ground. The creature chuckles, then leaves the room. You must escape soon! Will you examine the padlock (15), or search the cell (16)?