Shadows of Metphire: Chains of Compassion (Ableth the Rogue part 3)

 Ableth the Rogue moved with the stealth of a panther, keeping to the shadows as she made her way toward the door. Each step was carefully placed, her keen eyes and ears tuned to any sign that she had been detected. The goblins, however, remained oblivious, their attention focused on the chamber she had left behind. The air was thick with the pungent scent of goblin sweat and the faint, acrid smell of burning torches.

Reaching the door, Ableth carefully opened it just enough to slip through, wincing slightly at the faint creak of the hinges. The sound echoed through the passageway like a whispered secret, but the goblins seemed none the wiser. Once outside, she gently closed the door, moving with deliberate care to avoid any noise. From her pack, she quickly pulled out a few pitons, and with precise efficiency, wedged them into the door frame, securing it shut. The sound of metal against stone was muffled by the heavy wood, and she was confident the goblins would be contained, at least for now.

As she turned to assess her surroundings, her sharp gaze fell upon a small, dimly lit alcove in the passageway. There, chained to a rough wooden table, was a kobold inventor. The creature was hunched over, its scaly fingers deftly manipulating a collection of makeshift tools and strange components—likely working on some crude contraption for the goblins that had imprisoned him. The alcove was lit by a single, flickering candle, casting long, dancing shadows that played across the kobold's scaly skin.

The moment the kobold noticed Ableth, his yellow eyes widened in fear. Dropping his tools,
he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, his movements quick and desperate. His expression was one of both terror and hope, as if he was unsure whether Ableth was there to kill him or to free him from his captors. The pitiful sight of the kobold, bound and forced to labor, tugged at something deep within Ableth—a reminder of how cruel this world could be.

The kobold's breath came in quick, ragged gasps, his eyes darting between Ableth and the tools scattered across the table. The scent of fear was palpable, a sharp, metallic tang that hung in the air. Ableth could see the raw, chafed skin around the kobold's wrists, evidence of his struggles against the chains.

"Please," the kobold whispered, his voice a hoarse rasp. "I mean no harm. I am just a prisoner here, forced to work for those vile creatures."

Ableth's heart went out to the small, frightened creature. She knew all too well the feeling of being trapped, of being at the mercy of others. With a swift, decisive motion, she drew her dagger and stepped closer to the table. The kobold flinched, but Ableth's movements were not those of an aggressor. Instead, she carefully began to work on the kobold's chains, her skilled hands making quick work of the locks.

"What is your name?" Ableth asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

The kobold looked up at her, his eyes filled with gratitude. "I am Krix," he said, his voice steadier now. "And you, kind stranger, have my eternal thanks."

As the last chain fell away, Krix rubbed his wrists, a look of relief washing over his face. Ableth knew that her journey through the Shadows of Metphire was far from over, but in that moment, she found a small measure of peace. The world might be cruel, but sometimes, a single act of kindness could make all the difference.

With Krix freed and the goblins contained, Ableth turned her attention back to the ancient scroll tucked safely in her pack. The secrets it held were waiting to be unraveled, and she was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. The Shadows of Metphire held many mysteries, and Ableth the Rogue was determined to uncover them all, one compassionate step at a time.