The first thing I noticed when I came to was the overpowering aroma of fungus. The second thing was slightly more concerning: I was stark naked, lying on a dirt floor, trapped in a cage like some wayward zoo exhibit. So, I did what any rational Dwarf would do in that situation, I dedicated all my energy to thrashing against the unrelenting bars and holler my lungs out until I passed out from the effort.

I was jolted awake by a shock of cold water hitting my naked body, my head felt as though a deranged goblin was inside, tap dancing with steel-toed boots.

Then a voice pierced through my hazy consciousness. “Wake up!”

Martha was standing on the other side of the bars, holding the ring Merlin had gone all Gollum on.

“Why did you steal it?” she gritted out, anger radiating off her like heat from a bonfire.

“I didn't,” I said, working myself back up into a seated position while covering my privates. “I found it in a Kobold dungeon. The boss had it in his chest.”

“Do you honestly think I'm dumb enough to fall for the oldest excuse in the world? Now, tell me the truth or you’ll become what you sit on.”

Two things about that statement puzzled me: Firstly, it was news to me that in Purgatory, blaming a Kobold boss for stealing was an age-old cliche. Secondly, I wondered how exactly one could become dirt. My musings were cut short as I saw flames engulfing her hand, providing at least one horrifying answer.

“I swear it's true. I found the ring in a chest. You can have it. I won't tell a soul. I don't even want that ugly thing!” My voice squeaked up an octave with each frantic sentence.

Martha slipped it onto her finger - a perfect match. “Ugly?” The fire dancing around her hand grew in intensity. “When you barged in with... Mr. Nitwit, I sensed its presence immediately. This is a beautiful and powerful heirloom from my grandmother, the great witch of the Lowlands.”

Great! Another Scottish reference.

“You’re lucky I didn’t end you the moment you entered my house. Either speak the truth or die where you sit, and don't even bother trying to escape; this cage is enchanted, and your screams won't reach a single ear. I'll grant you a few minutes to contemplate your fate.”

"I swear, I'm being honest. I just arrived in town. I truly haven't been here before. I promise, cross my heart and hope to die!"

“Don’t worry, I’ll more than respect your hopes. You have five minutes to reconsider your story," her hand returned to its normal color as she began to walk away.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Can I have my stone? It's an heirloom from my dear granny, from the uhm... Upperlands… and I always keep it with me. I made a promise to my nanna to carry it until the day I die. It's just a simple blue stone.”

Martha rifled through a pocket on her robe, which clung to her like a love-struck suitor - a stark reminder of how extraordinarily stunning my impending executioner was. Talk about a silver lining for Grugnur.

“Here!” She tossed the stone toward me after investigating it thoroughly. “I've no quarrel with your grandmother.”

She retreated into the gloom, the eerie screech of a door and the clink of a lock trailing behind her.

I looked at the stone for a long while before I mustered the courage to rub it, Merlin's words echoing in my mind: It will only last for one time, Mr. Tim.

“One, two, three!” I counted and rubbed the stone in the grandest Aladdin-lamp-style I could manage. Holding my breath, I stared at it, but nothing. I looked at the stone in my hand and attempted another rub, but after the second swipe, it disintegrated into blue dust.

“NO!!!!!” I screamed, springing to my feet and rattling the cage with all my might. It remained unfazed. I began to dig at the dirt floor like a frantic hound, but after about two inches, my hands hit an invisible barrier. She hadn't lied; the cage was enchanted.

“Light,” I commanded, and the room instantly illuminated. It appeared to be a sort of cellar, an array of barrels huddled together like a herd of wooden cattle, a collection of unfortunate rats, and a small workbench filled with an assortment of seemingly discarded items: rusty tools, odd bits of metal, and what looked like a worn-out spellbook.

On the wall hung a bow, ensconced in a faint, ethereal blue glow - a rare weapon! If only I could escape this damn cage, that rickety old door wouldn't stand a chance.

“HEY, Grugnur! I'd call you as ugly as an ogre, but even that would be a massive insult to the ogre race!” I hollered with every ounce of strength left in me, wishing the insult would somehow puncture him like a well-aimed arrow. But there was nothing, only the echo of a perfectly good insult wasted in the emptiness.

***

“Mr. Tim, Mr. Tim, can you hear me?”

I couldn't tell if I had passed out or merely fallen asleep, but a familiar voice snapped me back to the bewildering reality I found myself in. Before the cage were three figures. Grugnur, Martha, and in the center…Merlin. I had to fight to hold back tears: it was the most beautiful hideous sight I'd ever seen.

“Merlin, you came!” I said, relief washing over me.

Merlin responded with a warm smile.

“Why didn't you tell me you were sent by Merlin, the Wizard?” Martha said, the edge in her voice making me flinch.

“I did! I said it multiple times, for Troll's sake!”

“Oh really?” Martha shot back, her eyebrows raised in mock surprise. “I must have been too busy not being charmed by your 'I'm just a harmless bard' routine.”

“That's rich, coming from someone who nearly incinerated me because I 'lied' about a ring!” I countered.

Before she could launch a counterattack, Martha seemed to think better of it. She just smiled at me, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, and shrugged.

“I thought the stone didn’t work,” I said, shifting my focus to Merlin.

“It did,” Merlin said, his voice even-tempered. “But it's not a teleportation stone. It alerted me to your location, but I was... let's just say, otherwise engaged. You're free to leave the cage now.”

“Can I at least get some clothes first?”

“Gruggie! Fetch Mr. Tim’s clothes,” Martha commanded.

“We'll give you some privacy to get dressed,” Merlin said, indicating Grugnur and Martha to leave. “Please join us upstairs when you're ready. I have a quest for you. No, let me correct that: We have a quest for you.”