[hider=Character Summary]
[b]Location:[/b] Heading towards the Dungeon's guard post.
[b]Health:[/b] Badly injured/Recovering from poison.
[b]Inventory:[/b]
- Guard's Sabre
[/hider]

Mundhir Sadek stood with his mouth agape at the scene he had just witnessed. A skilled thief subtly picking a lock, an Elf of mysterious power blasting the Prince's Eblistani kinsmen to ruin and a hulking Minotaur crying the thunder of war. Had he just stumbled into the halls of the world's greatest warriors? As his former inmates rushed past him, and into the corridor beyond the cell, Mundhir grimaced as he heard the many shouts of the dungeon's guards abruptly end with blood curdling screams. 

"What madness have I awoken to?" He muttered, pausing to wipe sheets of sweat from his face.

A high sounding screech of bending metal stole his attention from the bizarre and bloody scene. A monster, never before witnessed by his eyes or in the books he had read as a child, was busy wreaking havoc on the dungeon's many bars. It growled with a rage that shook the Prince to the bone, and left him on the verge of weeping. For a moment he figured he had died, and rather than being taken to the Undying Promised Lands, he had been denied Duranar's favour and cast to the Underworld.

 "We need make secure this floor and then see what do next!" thundered the Minotaur's grizzly tone. 

Mundhir stepped forwards, and into the corridor. The stones beneath his feet were slick with the blood of several guards, many of whom had been pulverised and dismembered. He kept his gaze away from their faces, in case he recognised them. This was heresy! Treason! An attack on the Caliph's men was an attack on the Caliph himself, and Mundhir's hopes of speedy retribution were dashed by the realisation that he'd be guilty of such crimes by mere association. His father would pardon him though, if the Prince could reach him before word got out that his seventh son was leading a revolution in the Citadel's dungeons. 

Kneeling down, he picked up a bloodied sabre, but shied away from taking a dead kinsmen's clothes. A true Eblistani did not loot the dead. The nakedness of his form would have to serve as apt protection from the swords of those he served for the while. 

"The Citadel houses a hundred such guards," he called to the group. "They'll be down here soon. More than likely, the City Watch is on its way too. We cannot dally here. I cannot forgive any of you for murdering [i]my[/i] people, but I have little choice in this matter. If we can force our way to the guard barracks on the next level, then there are several tunnel ways that will lead us into the Great Palace. From there, you can all escape." He paused to think for a moment, "I would be grateful if you could kill as few as my countrymen as possible; they are honourable warriors, doing their Lord's duty. It is nothing but a bizarre twist of fate that I am giving my assistance, rather than attempting to apprehend you for your crimes."

He took in this mismatched group of warriors. They truly were the most ridiculous regiment of fighters he'd ever bore witness to, but then he figured, if he had a thousand of such peoples, he could conquer the known world in a week. 

"Follow me," he shouted, and darted down the corridor. He knew the dungeon well - there would be a secure oak door, and no doubt the Minotaur would remove the obstruction with ease. Beyond that there was a guard post, most likely heavily manned at this point. If they could overcome his kinsmen there, then the stairs to the guard's barracks and interrogation chambers would be easily accessible.