As Soren approached the gathering of the other prisoners, he heard his name.
"Soren! Soren... over here."
His eyes scanned the area, only to find a short, purple-skinned girl waving to him from the distance.
Vinegar.
Soren walked over. She was surrounded by three men.
They did not look at him favorably.
One sat cross-legged amid scattered parts.
Soren's ''mechanic'-trained eyes recognized the system the moment he saw it.
At least his mind assembled the parts for a final result.
An arm-mounted grappling rig.
For now, it was spread open like a dissected insect.
Such a device was usually used to clamp into stone.
Spring-loaded talons, a coiled cable, and a winch small enough to fit along the forearm.
Yeah, definitely a grappling rig.
The man looking to be in his late 40s had a monocle clinging to one eye, catching the ceiling light, magnifying his unblinking focus.
