Spoiler (click to show/hide):
You, like most adventurers and people in general really, are not above having a certain amount of pride.
Despite your slightly rough childhood brought on by the differences in your eyes, you had come out well. Your need to defend yourself had developed within you an attitude for solving problems, and so it was only natural you'd take up adventuring like your father. Head strong and forward looking you had applied yourself well, your unique two sword style standing out amongst your peers. Within a few years you had developed an excellent reputation, and while you weren't in the very top ranks of adventuring guild yet you were definitely in the top 10 percent! Enough that you were often recognized on the road, and often time asked for by name for jobs. Almost always these interactions were positive, filling you with no small amount of satisfaction that most people didn't care about your exotic eyes after they had heard of your various accomplishments!
Naturally, such frequent success had led to a bit of... overconfidence.
Granted mind you, you couldn't have realistically known the extent of the problem you were taking on when you took the request to root out and drive off a cult that had taken residence upon Arclesia mountain, the tallest mountain the Arclesian range for which it was named. It was a rugged land, sparsely populated with a few villages and one larger town. Very beautiful though so you've heard. Eager to see it you left right away. It was only when you arrived that the extent of the problem became known to you, and it was deep indeed. Not just a shadow cult operating out of a building or two with maybe a dozen members, but a full on movement infesting the entire area, the cult operating brazenly out in the open and with hundreds, maybe even thousands of members! You were attacked three times on your way to the areas central town of Gleamwood, slaying a half dozen attackers each time. On their fourth attempts however you were finally overwhelmed. You were dog piled and disarmed, then promptly knocked out.
And so we arrive at the beginning of one of your more... unfortunate adventures.
You awake with a gasp, a sudden shuddering breath making your chest quake slightly as your eyes snap open and immediately begin to analyze your surroundings. You appear to be in a rather standard looking dungeon cell. Stone brick walls with a few manacled chains hanging on them. A single iron barred gate, a couple torches ensconced on the walls. More pressing however was your own situation, as currently you were strapped to a interrogation table that was tilted downward to point were practically standing, where only the thick leather traps securing your arms above your head and your ankles below you keep you from sliding off... you were also completely naked, so that wasn't great.
"Ahh, the hopeful saviour of Arclesia is finally awake. I do hope your not too uncomfortable, hehe.", A voice says, before a masked man emerges from a darkened corner, possibly through some kind of magic. The mask shows some kind of eldritch creatures that reminds you of a mindflayer or some other tentacled horror. "We were starting to wonder if anyone would ever take the request. It's been a few months since we put in for one. I was almost thinking it might've gotten lost in the paperwork as it were."
