The sun began to set in Avelorn, the pink-and-orange glow a stark contrast from the black Dark Elf tents set up in the woods. Slaves bustled about, any stopping to rest would hear the sharp crack of a whip slicing into their back. Dreadshots were positioned around the perimeter of the warcamp, blades slid into their sheaths but crossbows out. However, there was one Dark Elf who had a surprise headed in his direction.
.."Master Zaythl..?" A tan-skinned human, face badly bruised and bloody, shyly poked his head through the opening of the tent. His hands gripped the one of the flaps of the structure as if it were a lifeline, his legs shaking slightly with his green-blue eyes semi-focused on the sorcerer sitting cross-legged in the middle of the tent. Zaythl lifted his head with a shake of his cropped Chaos-black hair, revealing a stunning face with copper eyes to match. His lips were a pale pink, and his skin was the color of ivory. The sorcerer stood up, reaching over to the corner to grab his witchstaff.
"Yes?" he replied, his bright eyes looking rather dull, completely matching his monotonous tone.
"D-d-arian Iceheart s-say-s t-t-here's a.. new.. prisoner here. H-he's saying it-t's a Ss-hadow Warrior," the slave replied, badly stuttering as his hands and legs trembled in fear. Zaythl's eyes brightened the slightest bit as he took a few steps toward the young man.
"Shadow Warrior, you say?" his honey voice flowed out as he stuck out his chin in thought. The human nodded in reply.
"Take me to this prisoner, then," the sorcerer said, his back turned away from the slave as he donned his shoulder garments and hexveil. He whirled again, his ivory and purple robe hugging his body. The man hesitantly released his grip on the side of the tent and led his master across the warcamp. Zaythl followed close behind, eyes narrowed and focused off in the distance.
The pair trudged across the forest, and soon Ghrond's Sacristy was in view. The fortress was large and black, it's entrance so large and intimidating it seemed to swallow you as you passed through its gate. Spikes stuck out along the top rims of the walls to warn off unwelcomed visitors. They walked into the main hall, making a sharp right turn to the slave chambers.
The beaten servant stopped, waiting for his master. The sorcerer was walking slowly, using his glowing witchstaff as if it were a cane. He gracefully approached a man sitting on a stool in front of a rather large metal cage.
"Cairne," he said drearily in acknowledgement. The slave-keeper raised his head with a sharp-toothed grin as he reached out to shake the Dark Elf's hand.
"Zaythl, always a pleasure," the cheery keeper replied. "Looking for a new slave today?"
The sorcerer's eyes began to darken as he nodded, but stopped himself to speak.
"I heard there was a Shadow Warrior of Nagarythe captive you had recently caught? I would like to see him."
The slave-keeper chuckled as he replied, "Actually, that 'he' is a 'she'. And she's real feisty. Took out a whole lot of our own before we were able to catch her." He shook his head, almost in admiration, while he reached down towards his belt to pull out a wreath of keys. Jingling them, he turned around to insert one into the lock of the large cage, turned it, and opened the door.
The door creaked open, revealing a young High Elf whose arms were chained to the bars of the cage. Her hair was a strawberry-blonde that flowed in curls down below her breasts, but it was covered in dirt and blood. She kept her head lowered, yet her ragged breathing could be heard. Around her there was a small puddle of blood; there were cuts along her arms and legs.
Most of her armor was ripped from her body, and all that was left was scraps that covered her privates, shoulders, and feet. Slowly, the slave-keeper approached her, jingling his keys to let her know he was there. However, when he got close enough to be able to unleash her, she lashed out at him, kicking at him with her feet, digging her toenails into his thin robe. The Shadow Warrior yanked her head up, baring her small pointed teeth.
The sorcerer watched in amusement, studying the captive at the same time. Aside from her wounds, her skin was a peaches-and-cream complexion, her arms built up with muscle, probably from all that sword-and-bow work, Zaythl assumed. The one thing in particular that caught his attention, though, was her eyes. One was a gray with hazel rimming the pupil, while the other was green with flecks of light blue.
They were also filled with rage as she fought her captor, kicking and yelling. She writhed against the chains, but a whip across her chest from the slave-keeper stopped her. Even though she stopped fighting, she made no sound or indication that the whip had hurt her. Cairne turned to face Zaythl, grinning.
"I said she was feisty," he said, laughing. "Anyways, the little rat's name is Mesirsallel Stormtear, from what we've heard. She's been running amuck, ruining our defenses," he said, giving her a sharp glare. "She'd be good for heavy duty work, seeing as she's pretty nicely built. Then again, you can do whatever you want with her," he finished, eyebrows raising as a 'hint'.
"Hmmph," the sorcerer said. He turned to face his current slave. "You, get out of here. Go do something.. useful." Quickly, the tanned human scurried away. Zaythl once again gave his attention to the keeper. "How much for her?"
"Free! She's a pain in the ass." He shook his head. Cairne unlocked her shackles and yanked her to her feet. "I'll get her ready for you," he said, half-dragging the girl to the river to be cleaned. As she was dragged away, though, the warrior gave the powerful sorcerer a strange look. Of what, he did not know. Anger, fear, hatred? All he did was sit upon the stool adjacent to the cage to wait for his new servant.