Poor Bastards

Dyvia peered over her welding goggles as the new prisoners were slowly dragged inside. She greatly pitied them, those dungeons were not a nice place to be, not by a long shot. Well, the dark magic user might like it. It was dark and bleak and don't dark mages love that.
Dyvia was openly staring at that strange assortment of people, the direction of her gaze kept secret by the dark goggles, when the woman's gaze met Dyvia's for a second. Then the woman glanced at the dagger Dyvia was holding in her gloved hand. But the woman had to avert her gaze when they were pushed inside the temple.
Oh, so the dagger was that woman's. Now Dyvia wanted to know even more what it was. Dyvia turned and walked to her workdesk, glancing to the metal heating up in the forge. Soon she could start molding it. But first Dyvia would try to figure out this dagger. Then maybe she could try to sneak to the dungeons and free those unlucky bastards. Even the dark mage.