Originaly posted on the TSR online message board (www.tsr.com) by "Clorox the White".
Deep with in the cells of Rocha Dos Gatos Benito Guadilante sat stewing. He had given up trying to count the time since he had been sentance to prision here. The guards never gave meals regularly, if at all, and there was no light with which to see anyways. He spent most of his time trying to stay dry, and keep the rats from biting him. Although lately the guards had stopped feeding him and the rats were beging to sound tempting...
Benito was glade in a way that he was hidden deep benith Rocha Dos Gatos thought. He had been without Cinnabryl for quite a while now, and his inherited legacies had most definately run their course. He knew that his apperance would make grown men scream and run for their lives. That thought alone almost made him happier, almost. Benito was shaken from his thoughts by a strange clicking noise. The darkness had made his senses especially alert. So much so that he could hear the rat's feet as they scampered away from the sound. It was sharp and crisp. It seemed to come steady, once every thirty seconds or so. The more he listened the more the sound seemed to become closer.
When a chip of stone fell from the wall to his right, Benito jumped slightly. What was this sound he thought. It sounded like someone was digging out of the prison cells but that was impossible. More chips fell from the wall. Each flake of stone became larger and larger. Benito was sure that whatever it was, it would be through the wall very soon. He stood away from the wall and prepared for the worst. Suddenly a the tip of a metal pick axe broke through the wall. It dissapeared, leaving a small hole. The pick fell again and again until a hand came through the hole.
The hand and the pick worked on the wall tearing larger and larger sections out. Soon the wall colapsed interially. When the dust settled Benito could make out a strange figure. It easily stood tallier than him, and was well muscled. But the strangest part of the creature was not it's upper, but rather lower body. It had six legs, and the stinger of a scorpion. The creature stepped into the cell with a slight clicking of it's steps.
"Benito Guadilante I presume? We have a job for you," said the creature.
"In the name of the Inquisitor who are you, and what do you want with me, Benito the Magnificent?" Replied Benito.
"We, the Nimmurians, have a need of your service. You have heard of us haven't you?"
"Of course I've heard of you, you're one of those monsters on the other side of Herath."
"Some call us mosters Senor Benito, those that do don't live long though. Now I will ignor you insult this once and ask you this proposistion: will you do a job for us?"
"What's the alternative?"
"Why death of course. We couldn't let anyone know that we contacted after all, it would not be viewed well by the rest of the Coast."
"You mean to say that I am helping you wether I wish to or not, what would I get out of this?"
"Success means your freedom of course."
"My freedom... what's the job?"
"That we will discuss somewhere else. For now, follow me."
Benito followed the creature with his eyes down cast and a sollum look upon his face. Inwardly though he was smilling as wide as he could. One thought held his complete attention, FREEDOM...