Breakout
The dungeon cell was a fairly standard model. Narg had been in cells before, a hazard of the adventuring profession, and this was very little different from any other. Stout door, chamber pot in one corner, a rat here and there. Bugs scuttling up the walls. An obligatory skeleton manacled to the wall. All the usual. Perhaps this one was a little cleaner than most. He sighed and felt around in his Pouch of Gigantic Holding. The trouble with these sorts of magical pouches, as Narg had quickly found out, was that although the thing could hold tons of stuff, it nearly always needed two hours of rummaging around to find what you needed. He was still searching when a noise came from the door. It sounded like ‘pssst’. He looked up. “Narg,” came the voice in a low whisper, “is that you in
- Writer
