You roll a 10 (required 10). Success!
 
You search around the room for anything helpful, but there is nothing to be found. The walls are too thick to break through easily, and not even the hay seems to hide so much as a needle, let alone a secret passageway.
 
The window’s bars are unyielding, and though the door rattles ever so slightly on its hinges, it doesn’t budge. What it does, however, is get the attention of the guard right in front of it.
 
Brown seadog: “Hoy. Stay in the brig and keep all o’ yer legs, savvy?”
 
You slowly nod and step away from the door, not sensing a hint of bluff in your captor’s amber eyes. Still, trying to get a conversation going, you ask her what she plans to do with you.
 
Brown seadog: “Not me call. Cap’n’s word’s to keep ye locked up. Holdin’ ye for ransom, likely. Not worth the trouble, methinks, but I’m a doer, not a thinker.”
 
She scowls, seemingly not too pleased with her current ponysitting job. To distract herself, she pulls out one of the crossed swords on her back, and begins to sharpen its blade on a small whetstone.
 
And so, with a feeling of helplessness, an inconsolable friend, and the repetitive grinding of metal, time passes slowly.
 
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