Look around you; the Kingdom of Xeconia is truly a land of endless opportunity! Whether you are a farmer, adventurer, or any other profession, you know you have the ability to be prosperous. Even our criminals are treated well, being sent to one of our Redemption Districts to be given the ability to live a good life. Yes, the Royal Family has made this continent the best place to live for everyone!

The reality for those in the Northern Redemption District is quite different though; it is a miserable place. The terrain consists of gray rocks as far as the eye could see, both inside and beyond the four walls made of the same material, with similarly-colored mountains visible in the distance. This rock is used for all of the builds there, with the staff buildings distinguished by signs and more care into their design. Those unfortunate enough to be here spend their days waking up before dawn, mining for gold for hours, eating a single meal of soup and bread, and sleeping, only to repeat the same routine the next day.

Now, it was true that nobody wanted to be sent there, but for those who were clever enough, there were minor comforts to be had in this place. One person lucky enough to fit this category was Titus, a thief and alchemist sent here after failing to steal from the government. It was the skills he learned in the latter trade that led the man to be where he was that afternoon; the Guard House.

In that building, one of the guards of the facility was sitting in a wooden chair, taking his break. Zachary was tired today and deep in thought.

It's been a long week. Maybe I shouldn't have taken the overtime; I feel like I'm going to mess something up. But what could I do? The Warden asked me personally! The Divine Blood doesn't lie. If the boss thinks I have potential, maybe I should stop-

"Hey Zach, what's going on?"

The resting man was startled out of his thoughts, but relaxed when he saw the stupid face of Cletus, his fellow worker. The man was wide and short, dim but a good fellow, always finding amusing ways to mess with the slav-er, penitents.

"Oh, not much. Just resting and still kind of worried; it's been a long week."

"Quit that already! Don't you know, tonight's the big day!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Zachary shook his head, a slight grin appearing on his face.

"Ya hear the Warden got us the good booze for the party? Not that cheap shit like last year!"

…

On and on their conversation went. Vito, leaning against a wall in the Guard House, just wanted Cletus to shut the fuck up. By the King was that bastard fucking annoying, and it made it hard to listen to the man who was talking to him. Titus had good information and better tobacco (made with some alchemal process he was unfamiliar with), so he was actually worth paying attention to. 

Unbeknownst to Vito, the thief was quite interested in what the guard's younger coworkers had to say. A party and booze meant drunk guards, and that meant…

-----

Later on in the day, the usual dinner was being held at the mine's "cafeteria." It was a generous name for a sparse building with its furniture consisting of rocks used as chairs and larger, relatively flatter rocks used as tables, but the prisoners were usually more focused on eating than on the place's naming conventions. This evening, however, the focus of a small group of people was on the resident alchemist, describing in low tones what he had heard and why it mattered.

"...so if they're drunk, that means they'll be less attentive, and that's our chance to get it; the master map." The man continued talking about more specific details related to the Guard House, but the others realized the significance of what had just been said immediately. 

Just by working there long enough, even the lowliest of slaves knew the layout of the District, but the master map was the only one in the complex with the location of the key on it. And this wasn't just an ordinary key; this one was capable of unlocking the cuff each prisoner wore around their ankle that blocked their ability to use magic. The appropriately-named magic key could be used to give the group their spellcasting abilities back, then they could use that power to escape. And it wasn't like there was another way to get this information, so if the group didn't take advantage of this opportunity, another one like it was not likely to replace it.

"With the key, we'll have a chance to finally be free," Titus concluded, "and I intend to take it. Who's with me?"

"...I know you would be sorry, if you weren't so very dead," Rizx sang under her breath, "But you never listened to a word I said."

She scooped up a spoonful of broth and a cube that might have been potato, glistening with a thin glaze of meat fat, and shoveled it into her mouth, chewing. It was pretty dismal, even by her tribe's standards. The gatherers would bring in wild onion and herbs - something, she admitted, was very hard to find around here. Even some salt would be an improvement.

Taking her chunk of bread, she dipped it into the soup to soften it, then started chewing on it, her eyes flitting back and forth.

"They all... party?" the goblin asked, hiding her mouth behind the bread. But then where was there to go?

Another fucking day in hell. Three months had she been down there with the rest of the lot…three and had made zero advances on her plan. She would be the laughing clown of the assassin’s group, that she would, she could almost hear them, mocking her with their “hey rookie! Too much for ya’?” yes, they would no doubt laugh at her face or —even worse than being their play thing— they most likely leave her down there to root, not being even worth the problem. They sure could have 100 more like her by the next full moon, why bother rescuing a nobody street urchin who didn’t make it out of a place like that? No… she wouldn’t be worth their time. She had to escape somehow.

The little paper note weighed more than ever on her secret pocket. Even when the ink had started to fade and it was smaller than before, it weighed in her mid, made her palms itch with the need to do something…anything that would get her out of there. Her face showed nothing of the chaos that was her mind, she was as stoic and unfriendly as the first time she had been mining, only this time, people around her could feel a change on her, they could almost feel the danger pouring out of her skin, maybe it had something to do with the hard unforgiving way she hit the boulders, but they could feel it. Her rage. And why shouldn’t she be angry? The Crows didn’t even give her instructions, they just “sold” her as disposable gear and gave her a pat on the back for “good luck”.

She hated the mines and the stone, and the sand, and the people there with their odors and smelly mouths. She hated it all. And as always, the day went by with only a few punches to some idiots who thought they were being funny about her ears and a mildly annoyed guard who preferred to yell than actually due anything about a bunch of slaves quarrying.

she found her self sited at a small stone on the far end of the table, where an annoying man —that looked a lot like her usual aristocrat targets did— was talking about being free, as always was the case with the “dreamers” on the mines, he had an audience of people she had worked with before, but couldn’t really put a name to. Her plate rested untouched in front of her, but she made sure to eat the brick that was supposed to be bread, as a fainting assassin was as good as a baby, when her interest was piqued….a party. Her colorful eyes swept to her right, listening to the blond man’s tale, gears already turning in her mind, even as a …. Goblin? Spoke from behind her own bread —at least, her voice seemed of a female, but it was too hard to say—.

If she could steal the map —and she could— she would be out of that place in no time.

-You know…- she finally spoke, not really talking to anyone in particular, her eyes still fixating on the bread, her long lashes casting shadows on her unmatching eyes -a smaller group might be…wiser than a larger one- if she was going to get out of there and had a chance at taking the key, she needed numbers, not that they would be much help, but people were pieces to move and use, so why not?

Before writing the letter for Kruger...

Stood in the Guard House, not for the first time, Titus handed over the satchel of tobacco. It sure was a fortunate coincidence to find Solanaceae moss growing in abundance around all over the grounds. Solanaceae moss AKA 'Nightshade moss;' a perfect subsitute for tobacco if one could extract and seperate the poison from the pulp and then make it smokable. Not an easy task, but such a problem-solving exercise was a nice way to stave off the boredom and monotony of prison life. Making tobacco-substitute would most certainly have made him a rich and influential man in the prison... that is, if the so-called Redemption District was as advertised. In reality, the place was nothing more than a slave camp. The prisoners had not enough things of value to make a tobacco trade worthwhile. And so he found himself simply handing the fruits of his labour over to the guards for a few minor comforts and favours. It was the best he could do, for now.

"There's a lot more there this time," Vito noted.

"I had the materials, tools and the space required to prepare more, this time around," was the explanation from Titus. In truth, he'd never wanted to make so much for Vito. He'd purposefully been making smaller batches to keep himself needed - keep his value high. But this time around, he had the materials and tools to make something else too - Something that required a large quantity of the poison he'd been seperating out of the Nightshade moss. "As for information: On the fourth sub-level, in the south-western corner of the mine, there's a hideaway where some of the miners are taking extra breaks."

"Is that so?" Vito put the satchel aside and was sufficently distracted by the snitching. Good.

"If you don't mind, wait a few days before you bust them. I'd rather not be, in any way, linked to it."

"You giving me orders, you little shit?" Vito leaned in toward Titus threateningly. Titus didn't even blink. For some reason, fear or doubt rarely showed on his face. The young man was seemingly unshakable, with a piercing glassy gaze to boot. It was one of the reasons his old gang called him 'The Snake.' That and the poison antics. If they'd seen him now, casually snitching on others, this would be yet another reason for his nickname. "I could make your life a living hell. Know your place."

"Of course," Titus agreed. "I only wish to be valuable, so that our current relationship might continue."

"Anything else?" Titus shook his head. "What about other prisoners? Like that Mortika woman. She seems up to no good."

"She's fine," Titus said quickly. Mort was one of the few people Titus actually enjoyed talking to, in this shit hole. He'd do his best to protect her at any cost. "I've..." he searched for the right words. "...seen her around. She causes no trouble. Gets on with her work. You won't find anything untoward with her."

"You seem certain of that," Vito said, a suspicious look on his face. These fucking guards and their first instinct to be suspicious. It was correct. But annoying as hell.

"She is strange," Titus relented. "A cult leader, so I hear." Vito nodded in agreement. "I'll keep a closer eye on her, and quickly report anything worthy of note. Such a savage must be hiding something."

Misdirection complete. It was not out of pure altruism that Titus felt loyalty to her. It was not just that he respected and even admired her as an intellect and conversationalist. Mortika d'Arce had a unique set of skills and knowledge that made her a crucial piece in a potential prison break. She had to be protected. For the good of the small group of allies that were forming - allies who might seriously consider an escape attempt. Allies who might just be able to execute one too.

And speaking of prison breaks; did the guards in the Guard House just let slip the mother of all intel...!

After writing the letter for Kruger...

"They all... party?"

Titus looked in the eyes of the tiny goblin girl and gave her a couple of very purposeful nods. This one would also be as crucial a cog as Mort. She was small and she was a little thief, with goblin instincts. Heist gangs would call her a 'grease guy.' She could fit through small gaps, climb and scramble, with finesse in her hands too. Her type of team player was often someone sent into a building to unlock it from the inside. Coaxing her to talk was not easy, she was distrustful and bullied in a similar way that Titus had been when he first arrived, but finally she had spoken to their group. Good.

"Yes," he said to her, then echoed her words. "All party."

-You know…- Titus' attention was drawn to another who was hard to coax, but for completely different reasons. Nobody bullied Mhin. The elvish-looking woman was a certified badass. -a smaller group might be…wiser than a larger one-

"True enough," was the alchemist's response. "But we need the right combination of skills too. Nobody here is dead weight. We are all going to be needed if this is going to work.

Mhin was like the big guy, Maxim: Two people who did not need magic to be extremely effective at incapacitating any potential obstacles. Titus also found the play on words of 'Min and Max' to be amusing, although he'd never dare mention that for fear of offending them (particularly Mhin. Maxim had a decent sense of humour.)

"I appreciate your enthusiasm, Titus, but..." Kristo began to trail off. "The only plan I am hearing is retrieving the key, unlocking ourselves, and abra kadabra ~" Kristo got really quiet but really enthusiastic about this last part, "We are free!" He whispered but raised his voice at the same time while dancing hands.

"I understand your concerns, Kristo." Titus wished the fool would sit down and be normal. "Unfortunately, without the map, we have limited intel to work with. And once we have the map, we have to move quickly before it's absence is noted. This means, we have a small window in which we can put a plan together and execute. Unortunate, I know. But there's no other way. All we can do is be as prepared as possible, with the right collection of skills to problem-solve in real time."

Speaking of dead weight - someone who didn't know any better might think that Kristo was such. The man had no obvious talents other than having the gift of the gab. But, after arriving in the big city as a teenager, Titus had quickly managed to learn the lesson: It's who you know, not what you know. An old adage that rang truer than most would like to think. Nepotism ran in all circles, and a good friend in the right place could take you where talent alone couldn't. The more Kristo told stories about his former life (never to Titus, but Titus was always listening) the more Titus realised that this man seemed to 'know a guy' in just about every city on the fucking continent. Where hadn't Kristo 'Silver Tongue' Vosu been? Once the team had broke free of the prison, they would become fugitives, and help would be hard to come by. That's when, hopefully, Kristo's knowledge and connections would shine.

"I suppose I am in,"

Titus suppressed his urge to let out a breath of relief, and simply nodded.

---

---

Another day done, another meal to be had. The giant of a man Maxim, nicknamed “the bear” by the other penitents, let out a heavy sigh and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Man, this sure was another busy day. Not that they all were much different. Always the same task, over and over again. Just how long has it been? Months, maybe years? Maxim wouldn’t know. He wasn’t very great at numbers. Not that it mattered anyway, he’ll simply keep on doing his best here. There wasn’t much of a choice in the matter. If it meant keeping the kingdom off his village, he’ll die mining gold.

The bear looked at the pickaxe he used today. He brought it closer to his face, examining the tool. It was a rather nice one they gave him today, but he could already see the splinters in the handle. And what’s that? It felt like the iron was starting to bend slightly backwards. Shouldn’t take long until the head gives up and breaks off from the shaft. He’ll have to be careful tomorrow, make sure nobody works too close to him. Last time they gave him a shoddy pickaxe, someone nearly got impaled from the pick flying off after striking a gold vein.

Such a thing probably wouldn’t happen if they actually made use of his blacksmith skills to repair the overused equipment around here. But could he really blame them? Maxim was probably just as more efficient eating through the rocks with his powerful swings. There really weren't a lot of people of his build around here. Most of the large guys had a rebellious streak and were quickly put down.

And so there he was today again, eating at one table with a group of friends he made during his time here. Or at least he imagined they were his friends. After all, they were in the same boat, sharing the same food, lodging and misery, why wouldn’t they be comrades. Company sure made this life less dull, and he was intent on making everyone’s time less miserable if he could help it. There were some gloomy gals in their group that sure seemed like they could use a little cheer. And then there were some guys who were funny to listen to their antics.

He sat at one end of the table, on the floor. The Bear was so tall that even on the floor, he was reaching the same height as some of his smaller comrades sitting at the table. Plus, there was a time he sat at one of the tables and the stool just gave up under his weight. Ever since that time, he never bothered using a chair again.

Max listened to the plans unfolding. Was escape really a possibility? He recently started daydreaming so often about taking naps under the shade of a tree, overlooking fields of wheat. How he misses these days…

“You can count me in! I’ll help any way I can!”

Rizx glances down at her fingers, rubbing her right hand on her top. She'd tried to pick the lock for her cuff once, but it bit her. Still she felt an ache in her fingers, like the shadow of an itch.

"Hide us in wagons, we no see way. We no see how far, or see water. We leave, we no know road. Meybe do big circle? Supply wagon waits when we all in mines," Rizx sighs, "No one see it. But big people glah, no hold back."

She raises her head, holding each of there eyes for a long moment.

"When go, cuff guards, cuff chief, no cry help. Take sword, take horse. Find wagon, food, water," Rizx added, then took a nibble of her bread. "Time gift. Cannot spend much."

Rizx smiled, remembering the joey in his painted face to said that. She glanced up, wondering if they understood her? Big people always rushing, barely hearing, barely seeing. Always looking down at her.

But even if they got out of the mines, could they find the wagon? If this was forest, wagon would be easy to find. But all around them was stone, she couldn't be sure of right direction. They would not last long without water or shelter. Or if the guards found them first.

The Northern Redemption District was laid out in a relatively narrow row on a declining slope, designed for efficient use of the space within the walls. At the very north end of the camp at the bottom of the incline was the shaft, leading into the mine below, the whole reason this place existed. The gold extracted here was valuable to the Kingdom and everyone there knew it. The prisoner's barracks were placed near the mine entrance so they could be rushed to work as efficiently as possible. The only building closer to the slave's workplace was the cafeteria so the miners would have no reason to go beyond the barracks. Beyond that, just gray rock along with the occasional crucifix for anyone foolish enough to break major District rules.

The Guard House was placed just south of the barracks, close enough to be able to respond to any emergencies. The guards worked on shifts, so having a place where they could take their breaks was important. What else would they do, talk to the slaves? Yeah, right. The main floor of the building was one big room with many tables and chairs, designed to be a relaxing place. The ever-present gray stone was there, but more minimal compared to the prisoner's quarters.

A single staircase, located in the back of the building, would take anyone interested upstairs. This was mainly space for paperwork and the guard's personal items (but never weapons; anyone who placed them here lost their job), along with tables laid out in rows for new hire orientation. However, for potential escapers, the most important thing there was the document located in the top drawer of the desk at the front of the tables; the master map. The storage space was unlocked because why would a slave be up there? Who would purposely go into a house full of guards? It was for those reasons that the guards felt they could have their party tonight. And why they could operate with only one of them patrolling the barracks that night and one of them guarding the entrance to the building, probably the annoying ones that nobody wanted around. 

South of the party's location were buildings not meant for people; food storage, equipment maintenance, that sort of thing. The most imposing building though was at the southernmost point of the District; the Warden's headquarters. This was a five story building of gray rock that no prisoner wanted to be near. It was also a largely unknown layout, except for the fact that the man in charge slept there out of dedication to his job.

Titus had done a good job of gathering much of this intelligence, and with proper planning, it wouldn't be for nothing. Him and the others had spent the rest of the evening thinking and discussing how they would take advantage of this chance at freedom. It would take bravery and intelligence to see any plan of theirs through. Now it was time to see if they would succeed.

---

How much could they all “plan” in such a short notice? So many things could go wrong even with all the man’s planning and yet, maybe it was better that way. If they had somehow managed to find each other inside the tunnels, it would have been suspicious to hide in dark corners—heck it was suspicious enough that Mhin, of all people, was actually engaging with her fellow prisoners, but to have all of them in one place… Titus —as the other guy would call him— had been smart enough to find the perfect time to talk about something like that. How long had he waited for the opportunity to do so?

Before she could even articulate a response, she heard her headache before she felt it, a cheerful voice that shouted from a considerable distance from their table and made every pair of eyes close to them, turn their attention to the red haired elf, who now was considering the cons of killing someone in plain sight; Where Mhin was darkness and shadows, the feyling was sunshine and blue summer skies, which made Mhin uncomfortable. She hatted attention, being invisible was all she had been doing so far, but for some reason, the blond guy would just love to be with her, and that, was a special kind of torture. You know, like the little cubs that everyone find cute but no one can stand for too long -If you dare to shout my name one more time- she murmured, once the feyling was seated near her -…I’ll cut your tongue out…- giving one of her death stares to mark her words, before returning her attention to the matter at hand.

Two things she noticed were: people —regardless of species, always seemed to think they were better in numbers, team work and all that, something that only worked if at least half of the team was actually worth it. Which lead to the other point: so far, there were only two people, —maybe three— worth the trouble…which meant she would be fucked if this improvised plan went bad, and of course if Titus decided to play the double agent, they would all be knee-deep in it already, so she didn’t trust him as there was only one way a person would have so much intel on things in a place like the prison… and she doubted he was the play thing of some guard.

But the truth was still there, she needed something as the previous attempts she had made to escape on her own, clearly didn’t work. So, she would play her part, actually putting in the work and even follow whatever plan they came up with. She turned her head slightly to glance at the elf woman, her fiery hair hiding the orange color of her eye -oh don’t worry, if corpses is what you need, you’ll get as many as you want- her voice was as serene and cold as the chilly air surrounding her, a small curve at the corner of her lips —barely noticeable to the ones with keen eyes— was all the emotion she was showing at the prospect of actually doing that on which she was good for, something that got her complete attention. And maybe half of them would perish —the smelly brunet guy, Kristo, most likely— but if she had a chance to get out of the shithole, she would take it… she would worry about discarding the excess weight later.

The little goblin had made a point, but distractions were simple enough, noise would be your typical plan in the kind of situations where things could get ugly, at this, her eyes traveled again to the “peace lover” and the feyling, before speaking again -I think, we can all agree we have the “distraction” covered- she spoke uninterested as she usually would, returning to her usual self -should we need it, I don’t think the guards would expect a hug from a friendly prisoner, and maybe if he gave them one, we would be gone in no time- she nodded in direction to the big guy sitting on the floor.

---------

Later that night, Mhin was keeping to the shadows, keeping an eye on the guards that were louder than ever. Laughing amongst themselves, barely even noticing the change on a small group of slaves. Each had an air of excitement to them through the rest of the day, but now they were even more annoying than usual, a party was a rare occurrence and this made them careless, weak. Once the rest of the guards would leave their post to attend this party, there was no turning back and if everything went according to plan, she would be free by sunrise.

She kept an eye out for the signal, ignoring the other inmates who were just turning in to the slave quarters for the night.

Feylings can see in the dark pretty well, Titus thought as his mind tried to justify bringing Erith into the fold. The truth was, pushing him away now was likely to cause more problems for them, especially seeing as he was in the same cell with some of them. When Rizx continued to talk about the plan in front of little mischief-maker, it was decided. In for a penny...

Rizx was talking sense and Titus didn't disagree with anything she'd said, (especially regarding taking supplies,) but Mort's idea to leave an undead prison riot in their wake was preferable to dealing with and cuffing every guard themselves. Mihn's response to the idea of creating corpses made the hairs on the back of Titus' neck stand up. It was not that he was adverse to murder, but the lilt of her voice - the juxtaposition of cute and deadly - was rather unnerving, to say the least. Funny that he mirrored her facial expression to Mort when addressed, the barest trace of a smile for the necromancer who's compliment to The Snake flared his pride.

Titus looked at the big guy who was at the end of the table, his massive size having him eye level with them all even though he was sat on the floor. It was a good job for many that Maxim was a nice guy. Had the friendly giant shared the mindset of someone like Kruger or other vagabonds in this place, no one would be able to stop him.

Maxim, Erith, Kristo, Mihn and Rizx all shared a cell.

"The patrols will be light, tonight. We need to disable the few guards about. Maxim and Mihn being in the same cell should make this simpler," he explained. "In fact, Kristo and Erith will help a lot too." He interlocked his fingers and placed his elbows on the table. "If you two," looking at the loudmouths, "can draw the closest guards attention. Somehow get him to open the cell door. Then you two," looking at the powerful Min-Max duo, "disable him - kill him - whatever works, so long as it's quiet. That gives us the cell key and a guard's uniform."

And he went on to offer the idea of himself being escorted by 'prison guard Kristo' up to the Guard House, where he could get the master map. Before that, everyone else would be freed and, once the area was clear, Titus would let off the sleep gas bomb he'd made from the Nightshade moss - that would fill the prison barracks and make sure that no other prisoners could interfere and mess up their plans.

"We must wait some hours into the evening before we start. The guards must have time to get drunk." He took a breath and paused, letting all the information sink in as he shared his gaze among his comrades, left to right. "Once I have the master map, we descend on the key location together, relying on the our wits and our skills. Mihn and Rizx in the shadows, Max our muscle, and so on. Once the magic cuffs are off, I believe things will go a lot more smoothly." His eyes couldn't help but go to Mort as he said this. She might be more powerful than all of them. "This night belongs to us, comrades. I am certain of it."

...

As the evening began to settle in, Titus pictured, in his mind's eye, the guards getting hammered. He visualised himself and Kristo succeeding in obtaining the map. He saw their merry band of misfits escaping beyond the prison limits.

Victory.

Blinking back to reality, he spoke aloud to Mort who he shared a cell with. "I've been thinking about this concept of Utilitarianism you were telling me about last month," he told her. It had taken him this long to bring it up again as he wanted to be sure he thought exactly what he thought before speaking. Precision was important in philosiphy, as the necromancer had shown him countless times by making him sound like an idiot with seemingly simple responses and questions to his statements. "I'm still not sure how I feel about it, but I've realised that in almost every storybook I ever read, growing up - the Utilitarian was the villain. That is strange to me; we are taught as children to steer clear from such a moral compass, without even realising it."

Just some words to pass the time. He was also acutely aware that while she'd taught him about the concept with rather long-winded soliloquys, she'd never actually stated whether or not she subscribed to the idea herself.

Another hour into the darkness and Titus walked to the cell door, made eye contact with Mihn and nodded. It was time to go.

In the corner, the scrap of blanket ripples as Rizx stirs, wincing and softly hissing as she tried to loosen up her back despite all the scars that crisscrossed it and the cold stone that drew her heat away. Her brown eyes took everything in, the darkness revealing all its secrets to the goblin. Quickly, she adjusted the blanket so that it looked like she still slept in it.

Turning, the goblin flashed her pointed teeth in a fierce grin, then carefully made her way across the cell, her feet making no sound on the cold stone. She then fumbles with the drawstring of her pants, producing two wires she'd shaped into crude lock picks, and pressed her side into the cell door as she slips the picks into the key hole. In truth, she and this lock were old, familiar friends.

She glances back at the others, then coughs deeply, a common complaint among many of the prisoners so hardly remarkable, as she twists the mechanism inside, hoping to hide the sound of the bolt retracting, assuming she managed to pick it....

---

---

The big man went to his cell and laid down in a corner, just as any of the previous day since he arrived in this prison. All part of the plan, he was told. All he had to do was keep up the act that this was just another day ending. He could feel the unease however, something different about him and the others. What was it, hope maybe? Maxim never paid much thought about escaping out of the mines up until now, only dreamt of the world outside, of his old life and maybe what could have been.

All this worrying was keeping him eyes wide open. Everyone had their part to play, even him. He was hopeful it didn't have to come to this. Unlike Mhin and Mortika, he wasn't confident in his ability to physically assault a guard. Sure, he was much bigger than anyone else but the Warden, but he never fought anyone before. The thought of killing someone in cold bold made him all queasy inside. He was no butcher, even less a murderer. But for the sake of his comrades, Maxim would not fail them. When the time would come, he would gather up the strength and the courage to do what needs to be done.

Until then, The Bear had shuffled to his side and settled on watching Kristo knitting a hat. It brought him a semblance of comfort, taking his mind away from the worries. He was quite fascinated, reminiscent of his own mother's craft. Wool blankets, hats, sweaters, mum had kept her family quite warm during the harsh winter days. He had a lot of respect for people who could use their two hands to create useful items.

"Impressive!" He grinned widely to his crafty friend, full of enthusiasm. The next words were however much quieter, or at least as quiet as possible for the huge man with a usually loud voice. _{"Have you thought of bein' a seamster once we get out of here?"}

---

@Zora

Rizx frowns, not hearing the expected 'thunk' of the bolt retracting.

“A-are you supposed to be doing that?” Kristo asked.
"To escape?" Rizx retorted softly, glancing his way. "Yes."

She re-inserted her lock picks and got back to work, maneuvering her tools into the right spot past the wards and began probing.

What was wrong with her? She sighs, silently. Was it the eyes on her, watching her do this? Was it the stress of knowing it was up to her to get them past this door, and possibly others?

This was just the worst, thought the prison guard. While everyone else is having fun and getting drunk, I'm stuck guarding the slaves! Mess with them and nobody cares, but replace the ketchup in the employee kitchen with hot sauce one or twelve times and you're the bad guy. Life just isn't fair. And there aren't even any prisoners to-

The guard's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a bolt in motion. "Always assume the worst from the penitents" was the official line during training, though the guy thought it was probably just faulty equipment. Still, if someone did escape while he was the only one there, it would be bad news, so the guard slowly drew his sword and advanced towards the source of the noise. Shoot, maybe it would even wake up a slave and he'd get to have some fun tonight after all.

---

-It’s time- the women murmured to nobody, before watching the little goblin make her way to the door. If Titus was right, there should be only one guard on duty at the time, one unfortunate man. Easy target.

But —as expected by the elf, things were getting behind squelched. The goblin was taking too long, the noise was surely to make it to the guards’ ears and if they didn’t do something, he would be at their noses before she could even get out of there. Mhin bit a corner of her mouth, thinking, before turning to the stinky man and the blond feyling. What else could they do? It was apparent the goblin wasn’t going to make it in time, and she would NOT be punished for the mistakes of some child.

Determined, she walked towards Kristo, snatching up the project he was knitting with force, and started to take it apart as messy as she could, still not uttering a single word. Tossing the mess on Erith’s lap before watching both of them with clear annoyance -Make your self’s useful distractions- she ordered in a hushed voice, hoping the two would be smart enough to catch her meaning. She made her way back, graving the sad excuse of cover they were given —which was what looked like an old sack of potatoes— and pretended to sleep on the floor next to the cell bars, not before nodding to the goblin to make her hurry.

If the goblin couldn’t get the door open in time, the guard would come and be forced to open the door him self to beat two quarrying slaves, this would give her enough time to strike. If the guard was a newbie, he wouldn’t have heard the rumors about herself, thus a sleeping elf wouldn’t be the target of his attention. She could work with that.