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Allright. Your best way out of this would be the net to coincidentally fall apart from a display of shoddy craftdwarfship, then you rising and talking to the unbrushed masses about how you're a rightfull lord and savior.
You gather the strands of fate...
>Double-critfail
But not before your head - and your sister - slams the ground. Before you fall into slumber, the net literrally explodes, projecting high-velocity weighted ropes, wreaking havoc among the dwarven rangers.
You wake up in a cage, of the uttermost quality craftdwarfship, stripped of your necklace, with a muzzle. You don't feel the wind anymore, meaning you're probably a bit deep in the earth.
What you feel, however, is your concussion and the tiny spark of magic you have left - you probably unconsciously healed.
Your <span class="mu-r">sister</span> is donned similarly, in an other one, both cages filling the stone jail locked by an heavy metal door. She looks as battered - or maybe even worst - than you.
Time to devise a plan to get yourself out of this mess.
