[center][img]https://i.pinimg.com/564x/b0/bf/ee/b0bfee32c6d4b1c224d46339900aa003--medusa-gladiators.jpg[/img]
[h3][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s1-jNJlw5Uk]The Dungeons of Founders Bridge Keep[/url][/h3]
[i][b]Late Evening, 28th of the 6th Moon[/b][/i][/center]
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The old gaoler examined his desk with a feeling of pride. The ledger, the inkwell, his quill, and the ring of keys where precisely where they were meant to be upon the table. Not a speck of dust assaulted the rich oak table, cut and fashioned when the sun still rose and set. He sighed in satisfaction. The dungeon may be a messy hell, but here at his office, where prisoner's names were recorded and their possessions taken and recorded, it was pristine.   

The door opened, two officers of the watch walked inside, dragging an unconscious tiefling between them. "Ah, what have we here," questioned the gaoler. 

"A thief," said one of the officers. "Caught this one trying to rob vendors down in Hero's Square." 

The gaoler stood up from his desk, a finger to his scraggly grey beard as his sharp eyes inspected the body. "A nasty gash upon her thigh. Your handywork?"

The officer smirked. "What this?" He asked giving the wound a slap, blood leaking out onto the clean floor. "The work of a... a... a smartian."

"Good samaritan," he corrected. "And I'll thank you not to let her bleed on my clean floor. She'll need a wrapping of gauze and some stitches." The gaoler made some notes in his ledger.

"I'da thought you'd let this creature bleed out," smirked the officer.

"I'll remind you that the Gods Laws rule in Haven, by the grace of the High Lord. I would have had her hands, but now a fine will do, or barring that, slavery." He continued writing in his ledger.  "Lay her possessions out on the desk - neatly if you please!"

One by one, the tieflings items were laid out. The gaoler eyed them suspiciously. "No coin purse?"

At last the guard's smirk faded. "Ah no! No coin purse."

The gaoler put down his quill. "I'll ask once more. No coin purse?" 

This roused a punch in the arm from the officers comrade. "Did you say coin purse? Oh yes, it did have a coin purse." He tossed a fat purse upon the desk.

"Mhm. As I thought." He opened the purse, counting out each coin, and jotting down in the ledger. "250 silver pieces. A tidy sum. Very well! Have her fastened in the stocks. I'll see to her wounds at once."

The dragged her away as the gaoler locked the possessions and silver in a sturdy cabinet behind him. He sighed. [i]She'll be awfully surprised when she comes too; locked in a stockade in a cramped dungeon.[/i] "Always so busy on Founders Day."