Trying something different- Enjoy!
1. Urda Anqualë
Leave it to the fucking elves to build their prison in the godsdamned desert, Elowyn thought as she bounced around in the hot cart under the burning sun. Granted, she couldn't see it, but she could feel it. No, she was bound, gagged, and blindfolded, no wiggle room to see what hell awaited as she was carted off to gods-knew-where.
Ok, not nowhere, completely. She was headed to prison. And not just prison.
Urda Anqualë.
Its very name was meant to inspire horror- "The slow agony of death". It was as mysterious as it was terrifying, more used by parents as a bedtime warning tale for naughty children than thought of as a physical place. Its stories were of walls, hundreds of feet high, and of prisoners coming back to the guards to beg for death through cracked lips as they starved. But no one knew, not really.
The prison was one that none have ever been able to describe, because no one had ever gotten out. Urda Anqualë was a slow and excruciating death sentence.
Elowyn was bound and determined to test that idea- if for no other reason than to spite the Vecna-damned elves. Of course, she would probably have to deal with the other prisoners first. If this set up was the same as the other prisons Elowyn had seen throughout her illustrious career and sad decline, the commons area was the first proving ground.
The intro had to be the perfect balance of badass and calm. Not enough to get the guards attention, but enough to make sure she was left the fuck alone.
She had never been a people person; she didn't plan on starting now.
Especially with a group of criminals who had done gods-knew-what to wind up here, tied up next to her. She may have gotten caught after one too many ales resulted in rambunctious behavior, but she was sent here for something worse. Something completely undeserved if she did say so herself. The courts had felt differently- differently enough that the human courts had asked a favor of the elves for her imprisonment, citing that it was unknown what the half-elf would be capable of.
The humans were worried she would escape. She would have.
Now she was on a cart, tied like a two-bit monster, with six other offenders, if her count of thumps was correct when they had all been unceremoniously tossed into the wagon like sacks of rotten potatoes. At least one was an orc, if the smell was anything to go by. Another was definitely a female elf, the perfection of her lilting voice unmistakable, even as all she did was hum a soft calming tune. Until the guards had hit her, yelling for her to shut up, and the hum was cut short with a whimper.
"Listen up!" one of the guards began yelling alongside the jostling wagon, "You have now been interred in Urda Anqualë Penitentiary. Do not try to escape- You can't!"
Elowyn bit back a snort. She could take the hit the guard would give her for it, but it would be better for yard fights if she could see through both eyes.
"Do not come near the wall," the guard continued, "you will die!"
Not if I scale it and get to you first, Elowyn mocked back in the safety of her own mind, wondering what kind of distraction could be mounted already. Picturing the standard prison systems in her head, she was already planning her escape. Hashing out routes, she missed the guard's next words, only jolted out of her reverie as the guard yelled out, "-And then you're on your own, maggots. May Corellon Larethian have mercy on your souls."
Wait- on our own? Elowyn's mind raced, what did he mean on our own?
Before she could process what may have changed, Elowyn felt the cart jolt before she was overcome by nausea. The rocking of the cart didn't make sense, they weren't near a sea to be on a boat… that meant they had to be in the air. Why were they in the air?
With a soft thump, the swinging stopped, and Elowyn took a deep breath in through her nose.
Something is wrong.
Where was the stench of unwashed bodies, rats, and sewer? They always accompanied a prison. Where was the clamor of yells? Those begging for release, those jeering, those wanting to catch the new arrivals off guard. Where were the guards' yells, keeping the prisoners at bay as they themselves had to enter? Where was the shade of the ceiling of a building?
There was nothing. Nothing but a thump of…
Oh fuck! Bodies being tossed out of the cart.
Elowyn felt hands on her and immediately started squirming, kicking out with her bound feet and reeling her head. Her arms behind her back made it harder but if she could just get purchase-
"Well fuck you too then," the guard carrying her scoffed out before hurling her back first into the ground, knocking the wind from her lungs.
"In the infinite wisdom and fairness of Corellon Larethian, you have five minutes to get away from my wall before I have you killed," the lead guard intoned.
"But we are bound! Where is the fairness- oof!"
A loud thunk cut off the distinctly reptilian hiss in the words that Elowyn knew marked this prisoner as Dragonborn. He probably used those sharp teeth to bite through the gag. Curious indeed for one of the reclusive creatures to be here of all places.
Gaining back her senses, Elowyn noted the blaring sun, ever present, had not let up at all and that scratchy sand gritted against her exposed legs and arms where she had expected stone.
"Four!" the lead guards voice rang out, drawing Elowyn's attention and accompanied by the sound of grunts and whimpers as her fellow captives struggled against their bonds.
Elowyn rolled her eyes. Weaklings.
Pulling her strapped hands under her butt, she used her not-inconsiderable strength honed over a lifetime of hard living and harder training to literally snap the worn ropes from around wrists. Next to go was the blindfold, and what she beheld made her gasp in horror.
Next to her, running north-northwest, was the wall. Three hundred feet high and polished smooth, it looked as if the elves had used an actual cliff face as a natural barrier. On all other sides of her was nothing but barren dessert as far as the eye could see. Massive sloping dunes ranged off to the southeast blending into barren, unforgiving plateau to the northeast. All of it dry, inhospitable, and seemingly inescapable.
"Oh, you fucking bastards," Elowyn muttered as she yanked the gag from her face and unwound the rope from her ankles. The fiends had made the entire open desert their prison, practically guaranteeing death to every internee there. "Fucking elves. Vecna damn you all and may Hextor piss on your graves."
"Three!" came the ringing call from much higher up now,
Elowyn's eyes boggled as she saw the whole cart being lifted by some sort of pulley system, not even the rails of a mining lift to give convicts any hope of scaling the smooth surface.
As she stood, she also saw the small figures dotting the wall, every ten feet or so, pull back the strings of large longbows that glinted in the glare of the sunlight. The tips of arrows emitted glares from their sharp points.
"Away from the wall, prisoner!"
"I'm going!" Elowyn whisper screamed under her breath, straightening the sad, sack cloth tunic that barely seemed to cover her ass.
"Wait! Please!"
The dragonborn's hiss rolled off his tongue in a plea, where they all still struggled in their bonds.
"Please don't leave us to die," he rasped.
"Two!"
Curse the gods and all that they deemed holy. Elowyn rolled her eyes to the sky before huffing out a breath that cleared her horribly tangled bangs from her eyes. Why did it always have to be her?
With labored steps through the swishing sand, Elowyn stomped over to the dragon born, his large, pitch black body sprawled in the sand. The sunlight cast his scales in stark relief, making them gleam like an oil slick in the desert sun. His physique would be impressive if it weren't for the long tail and reptilian features distorting his handsomeness into only a beast.
She made short work of the simple knot before stepping from him to the next body and leaving him to remove the rest of his bindings. This one was a small female, even smaller than Elowyn's diminutive 5'2" frame. Her skin was a pale blue and surprisingly cool to the touch, a welcome respite in the desert heat. Her hair was that of a genasi, blues and greens reminiscent of Elowyn's own, but run through with silver strands and strips of what looked like kelp or water plants. Her features and stature, however, gave away that she was a mixed breed with something else. Also, much like Elowyn.
This one, she figured, she could handle being around if needed. Water could be helpful, if she was enough genasi to make it.
The other four… the other four she could live without, recognizing the willowy frames and long ears of two pure-bred elves, and the hulking forms and green skin of two orcs. Scratch that, orc hybrids, she realized, noting the lack of horns and tusks typically associated with their kind.
Unfortunately, the dragonborn took that decision out of her hands as he rapidly used his claws and great reach to slice through the wrist bindings of the others. Damn do-gooder. Not what one would expect of a convict.
"One!"
But not her problem either, she decided as she headed into the desert while the others scrambled to their feet.
"Where are you going?"
The question came from the genasi, but Elowyn cast her eyes instead to the two elves in their little band of criminals with a sneer.
"Where should we go?" This one was grunted out by one of the half orcs. He stood nearly as tall as the dragonborn, though perhaps it was his hair giving that illusion as he had somehow pried his thick locks to stand in a perfect mohawk, despite the jostling of the day.
"Away from the wall!" The lead guard shouted again, "Thirty seconds."
"I would say we go wherever isn't here," said the tall male elf, who was calmly inspecting nails as if his vanity was the most important thing to pay attention to in this barren wasteland. He probably thought it was.
Fucking elves, Elowyn rolled her eyes, the whole godsdamned lot of them.
Turning her back again, Elowyn began jogging for the dunes, hoping for some cover from the guards' arrows since "away" was a rather vague description of distance. To her dismay, the sounds of feet shuffling through sand followed her.
"How do you know to go this way?" The male elf asked, jogging up even with her and gazing down at her from his considerable height.
Elowyn simply decided not to grace him with an answer.
"Probably because it is the opposite of that way," came a musical reply as the female elf jogged up even with them, her dainty feet barely leaving a track in the sand as she pointed back over her shoulder toward the wall with an easy smile.
Sarcasm. Huh. Elves were not known for their wit, often being serious and thinking themselves better than the world around them. Elowyn turned to look at the female elf curiously. A wide smile seemed to glow from her dark face, her skin dark like burnished bronze. Her hair was short and textured. Clearly not a noble elf, and she was small for an elf, only a couple inches taller than Elowyn.
"I'm Alice," she said easily, holding out her had for a shake.
Most un-elf like.
"Alice, huh" Elowyn replied, ignoring her hand, "That's a rather human name for an elf. How did you come by that?"
Alice's smile dropped away with her hand and Elowyn almost regretted her surly reply. Almost.
"Just lucky I guess," Alice finally replied, her grin a shadow of the smile she had given earlier. Weird how an elf's smile, so rarely seen, seemed to leave the blazing desert a little darker with it's absence.
"Well, since we are doing introductions-"
"We weren't," Elowyn growled, pushing herself faster from the wall, closing in on the rise of the nearest dune. If she was right, they only had about ten more seconds to get to cover.
"-I'm Valvyn," the male elf continued as if she hadn't spoken, and as if they weren't all running at a full sprint in stroke-inducing heat, "Don't mistake my debonaire looks and dashing personality for high breeding. I am just lowly wood elf, raised in the forest and friend of the fauna found there. A most egregious error has landed me here-"
"Yeah, yeah, we're all here for nothing. That's always the story in prisons," The mohawked half-orc spat out, breathing hard as they reached the crest of the dune.
"I see you are familiar with this then, friend," the elf- Valvyn- smirked, now running backwards and still staying ahead, "Tell me, what is your name and perhaps I will know of your exploits."
"Jorge," the orc huffed.
"Jorge… Jorge… a rather unfortunate name," Valvyn said stopping on the precipice, seeming to pose in thought, "It does little to highlight you or make you stand out from the crowd. Indeed, there must be a million Jorge's and I-
"Need to shut your mouth now," The dragonborn hissed as he finally reached him from his sprint with seconds to spare, "or you'll get sand in it."
"Why-"
Valvyn's question was cut off as the large dragonborn shoved him backwards down the far side of the dune with a yelp and quickly followed him over the edge just as the command of "Fire!" rang out in the distance.
"Nice timing," Elowyn said with a nod to the dragonborn before righting herself from her slide down the dune, noting his striking eyes They were a strange sky blue, a stark contrast to his coal pigment.
"I know," He replied, shaking the sand from his sack cloth, making Elowyn writhe with jealousy over how easily the hot, sticky sand slid from his scaled skin, "I was counting."
"In case you haven't heard about elves, dragonborn," Elowyn said, cocking a hand on her hip with a pointed look at Valvyn who was dusting off his coppery skin and finger-combing his straight black hair as if getting ready for a day on the town, "They rarely keep their word to those they deem lesser."
"TrocaÎre."
"Gesundheit?" Elowyn questioned, wondering if this was some dragon word. After all, she only spoke elvish and common thanks to her heritage.
"My name," TrocaÎre hissed, "is TrocaÎre."
"Ah," Elowyn acknowledged with a raise of her blue brows, spinning on her heel and done with all this social shit.
"And I already knew that about elves," TrocaÎre whispered, drawing even with her thanks to his long stride alone, "That's why I only allowed my count to get to 27 before making sure we were all over that edge."
Elowyn couldn't fight her small grin at his candor. "Yes, all of us. Wonderful," she snarked.
"If I didn't do it, who would?" he asked with a pointed look down at the small woman.
"Who indeed," Elowyn scoffed, jogging ahead again.
TrocaÎre watched her leave with amusement as she finally released the strip of fabric that had been her blindfold to use it to tie up her raucous blue hair in an equally disheveled bun, raising the short tunic she wore dangerously close to the edge of what, he assumed, she would not want seen and brushing against the back of her thighs in a tantalizing motion that should not have affected him as it did.
"Ok," Valvyn said energetically, heading in Elowyn's direction as she stalked off, "Where are we going?"
"We?" Grunted the other half-orc angrily.
"Yes, we," Valvyn replied haughtily, "should not we, this motley crew of true innocents stick together in these arid lands to increase our chances of survival… what is your name, sir?"
The half orc, stringy hair falling around his broad face onto shoulders and biceps thick as tree trunks sneered at the verbose elf who, to his credit, did not back down from the look.
"Balthor," he finally grunted before beginning to plod in the same direction as the others were now taking.
"There you go, Balthor, my orcish friend, you see the wisdom of safety in numbers!" Valvyn exclaimed as he practically skipped over the loose sand.
"Pretty sure it's safety in silence," Alice quipped at Valvyn from her place near Elowyn's back, earning an amused snort from the woman in front of her.
"But-"
"Okay, if it will shut you up lets finish introductions," came a placating voice as the tiny genasi finally piped up, "I am Nishi, half sprite, half water elemental genasi."
"Thank you, Nishi," Valvyn purred with a disconcertingly handsome smile. "And who is our fearless leader?" He called up to Elowyn who had yet to break her stride.
"Not your leader," she intoned boredly.
"Oh come, little elfling," Valvyn chuckled, scampering right beside the annoyed woman, "can't we-"
Quicker than anyone could blink, Elowyn had yanked Valvyn backwards by his hair and to his knees, holding two knuckles under his chin on either side of his windpipe.
"Do not ever call me an elf," Elowyn hissed from between clenched teeth, "And my name is Elowyn Banesheart. Know it?"
Valvyn's eyes widened as he placed the name. It used to be said in upper military circles with trepidation, even fear. It had been decades since she had been heard from, but it was still a name all elves could place. But… none of them had mentioned that herself was an elf. Or part.
"Good," Elowyn said, releasing his hair and allowing Valvyn to fall forward onto his hands in the sand, "Now stop talking."
TrocaÎre watched the small warrior, for that's what she was he now knew, stalk ahead again with sure steps. She could definitely be a boon to their party, he was sure, but the tales of Elowyn Banesheart verged on the fantastical. And yet, for all her fearsome reputation, he could not seem to pry his pale eyes from the bright blue bun bobbing at the front of their group.