My Second Life Is A Heroic Power Fantasy 131 Eleanor Conspires Part 2

Even putting it as simply as possible, Eleanor couldn't see how in this world she'd be able to pull all of it off, much less how the attack would succeed if she did. But at this point, she was being driven as much by a desire for revenge as she was by a desire to escape. Her time sitting in pain and reflecting over what had happened to her had hardened something in her. She was angry. Truly angry. And something about Marg'faz made her want to stay and fight. Was it that she could relate to her somehow?

Ultimately it didn't matter. She was going to help, if for no other purpose than because it seemed like the right thing to do. And maybe, just maybe, she'd make it out of it in one piece. Hopefully with the pelt of that fleridden monster slung over her shoulders like a cape.

The guards carried her back to her holding room and chained her back to the post less than gently. The restoration potion she'd drunk was already starting to work its way into her leg, causing it to throb with a grinding ache as it felt like thousands of tiny splinters worked their way through the bloodstream in her thigh. At a bark from the lead guard, the rest of the guards left the holding cell, leaving her alone with him. The guard removed a cloth bundle from inside its armor, and tossed it to her.
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"Mistress says you need this. More to come tonight with food. Hide them well." It said gruffly, before turning and leaving her alone. In spite of her rapidly growing pain, Eleanor scrambled to open the bundle. As she unfurled the fabric, a myriad of small odds and ends poured out into her lap and onto the cave floor: b.u.t.tons, herbs, a few feathers, and a myriad of other small things too small or too benign to be of value to anyone else. To her, however, it was a veritable goldmine of potential. There, in the bottom of the bundle was a small folded bit of parchment. She looked at it curiously, and carefully unfolded it. On the two pages of paper, in neat little rows of magic script, were dozens of arcane formulae. She didn't have to use Read Magic to know that much.

She suddenly had the overwhelming urge to scream for joy. She now had her way out. She would have to study them, and practice like crazy through her sleeplessness and pain, but she now had nothing keeping her here but the time it took to find her way out. She could even escape while most of the clan was asleep. And with this many tools at her disposal, she could easily dispatch what gnolls tried to stop her, even without the augmentation powers of her staff.

Yes, she could run, and no one would blame her.

She looked at the arcane formulas again, and noticed for the first time the small, hastily written script down at the bottom of the page:

"I have given you what you need to escape. I don't expect you to stay and fight if you don't want to. But my word stands- if you fight with us, Rawgh'faz is yours. Should you decide to stay, I will see you soon. If not, may you always remember that not all of us are monsters.

-Marg'faz"