The barbarian, consumed by his destructive rage, wreaked havoc on everything in his path, overturning the few pieces of furniture in the cell, smashing bits of wood and stone, and tearing the clothing and personal belongings of his companions.

In his frenzy, he grabbed a wooden chair and smashed it against the wall, sending splinters flying in all directions. One of these splinters struck the barbarian, deeply cutting his hand. The barbarian roared in pain and anger as blood flowed from his wound.

Meanwhile, the foul substance that had been seeping into the room until now appeared to drain outside through a small crack created by the commotion, catching the attention of the jailer. The ranger, who had stayed back, attempted to calm the barbarian in his wild state, which seemed to be working.

The thief, quickly producing a lockpick from goodness-knows-where and wearing a grimace of pain, decided to continue trying to force the lock. Unaccustomed to picking locks with soiled hands and lowered pants, he struggled with the lock and had to roll the dice with a certain disadvantage.