Our story begins in the foul lair of a mad sorcerer. Deep within the bowls of a cavern a cell made of rusty iron bars a lone figure rests lumped upon a pile of rags. She waits for the only other being in this place to deliver her ration of slop, a small goblin called Briggs. The master is gone and has been for sometime and the food has gradually become worse now to little more than watery bone broth with a piece of moldy bread.
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