Archon's Way of the Wicked.

[dathom]

The Talin hanging from the chains is of average height, his slim muscled body not quite filling out his prison rags. His brown hair is kept short and brown stubble is on his plain face. Indeed, in most ways, Inigo looks quite unremarkable, except for two characteristics. His eyes, the same shade of brown as his hair constantly look about with an almost distant, dead look to them. And his calloused right hand seems to instinctively clench and loosen, as if expecting a hilt of some sort to be there.

As he looked about the dank cell the guards had stuffed him in, his thoughts wandered back to not only his arrival to the prison, but events that had set him on course to be here. "Karfeld and Cornwell...you both will wish you had walked by my shop if I should ever get out of here," he mumbled at almost a whisper. The men he had murdered had all deserved what had come to them...they had all bought in to the idea that the Crown would protect them. He had proved that wrong for the short amount of time he had been free. He had to admit that he felt something similar to joy when we saw the look or revulsion on Prat Cornwell's face when that Knight realized what was in the stew he had eaten. If he got out, Inigo would need to be better at hiding the evidence of his mission...if he ever got out.

His thoughts interrupted by the half-orc's chortling, he looked up to get a measure of who his last few days will be spent with.