Role

Chapter 2

The soft thumping of flesh reverberated throughout the chasm. A lone goblin
stood in the corner, back to the others. As the pace and ferocity increased,
the chattering encouragement of the other goblins picked up. A bull-faced
minotaur groaned in agitation. Soon the hoard of goblins began to chant in
unison. "Nut, nut, nut, nut!" over and over in increasing repetition.
And then, punctuating the dreadful moment, there came a cacophony of riotous
celebration.

The fire giant rolled and shifted on her bed mat. Never ending, day in, day
out. This was life in the prison of Glymarach.

"MA! MA! Ayy, Mama Rah!" the little runt kicked at her. "Yer wunter
eat?!" it asked. "Eat what?" "BOFA!" it replied. She knew where
this was going. She didnt know the number of years, but she knew it long.
Decades. Her body had changed. Perhaps a century. There were no seasons in
the underground prison. No days, no nights. Only the misery of captivity.

She no longer even knew her name. The goblins had taken to calling her Mama
Rah. Who even needs a name in a place like this?

She had vague memories of being a child. A boat. A storm. Awe. A shipwreck.
Little else.

She closed her eyes and uttered some words. Some might even call it a prayer.