|Affiliation||The Grey Tower|
Elisha is a girl of average high (5'6) and rather thin due to malnutrition. Her skin is pale and flawless (other then a scar on her left calf), due to several weeks of not being allowed under the sun. She has long, crimson hair, and a small amount of freckles on her face, arms and breasts. Her body is weakened due to being in captivity for so long, but her spirit is strong. A fiery spirit is easily seen in her bright green eyes. Men often commented (to her great annoyance) that her lips are perfect for kissing.
She had long legs before her enslavement. According to a midwife she met in her youth, she would never have the hips for childbirth. When walking, she is often seen limping, and would often lean on things to ease the pressure on her left leg. Elisha is unusually friendly with other women, but is quite uncomfortable around men. She hates bows and crossbows, and has never been comfortable around horses. She is also slightly claustrophobic, the disorder more apparent after several hours inside enclosed spaces. She is also a fan of playing with cards and dice, her earliest memories are of her and her mother playing various games while her father was travelling, the man having once been a merchant in Mayene.
She keeps a dagger she found before being saved by a female warrior with her at all times, the weapon itself made of a bone hilt, the eagle of Mayene carved into the bone. The blade itself is longer then most daggers, and has been judged perfectly balanced by seasoned soldiers.
"Run you bastards!"
Those were the first words the captain had said in days, and honestly, those words scared the Light out of me. Me and the girls had been all put in the wagon, to lie hot and awake all day, and lie cold and shivering all night. All we ever saw was darkness, the master did not want us in the sun during the day, something about pale flesh selling better than dry, burned flesh. Those three words, three simple words uttered by that thick hairy man changed everything for us. Just when we thought our lives were over as we knew it, when we thought our flesh would no longer be our own. The creators fiery hand touched us all, for good or ill, that day changed everything.
"Get the girls out, men!" the captain ordered, the words followed by sweaty, ugly men shuffling the six girls out, one by one. Every single girl covered her eyes with their hands, leaving pale, naked, shaking bodies to stand on unsteady legs under the sun. Each girl was as different as they were similar to each other. All six were young, pale, fertile, yet clearly each showed bodily features of different nationalities. The smallest of the girls was clearly Cairhienen, black hair, short, and quiet. Even as she quivered, covering her eyes, something about her facial expression showed strength, and inner pride. She did not bother covering herself, simply stood as if her naked flesh exposed to the world was as natural as breathing. Another girl, this one taller, and of a slightly thicker build, had a long braid, the color of chestnuts, hanging between two young, heavy breasts. Unlike the first, this one did not show a great deal of inner strength, tears streaming down her cheeks. The rest were more of the same, one a red headed Tearian lass with nearly no breasts, but with the most appealing hips any of the mercenaries had ever seen.
As we all stood there, each and every one of us silent and frightened, feeling cold, alone and ashamed, we all felt a shameful relief as a rain of arrows crashed down around us, bringing men to an early grave. Nele fell to an arrow, the poor girl, right through her heart. Her eyes grew blank even before her naked body hit the ground. One of the men cried out, the object of his lust dead and gone forever. A few of the nearby guards died also, but the master and the captain soon gathered their wits, and did the one single kindness shown to us, since they had found us. They tried saving our lives.
"Tip the wagon, you dumb bastards!" The captain ordered, as the master began pushing the five remaining girls into the dirt. "As soon as they are out of arrows, charge them. These girls are worth a fortune each!" He shouted, as the men hid behind the makeshift cover the wagon had created. "The one we lost was worth more then the most of you will see in a lifetime!" Looking around, he pointed at two men he was seeking. "You two," the captain shouted to the two scouts. "Take out your longbows, and aim for their archers after they have released their volleys." Getting on his hands and knees, he barely avoided an arrow from the next volley. Crawling to the girls, he ordered them on their knees, and pushed them towards the cart, rudely pushing the bare flesh of the Cairhienen’s butt as motivation.
"Captain!" The master called out, the odd man dressed in black silk, with strange pins on his collar. " I can hear cavalry from the south."
"Burn them!" The captain swore, thumping his fist to the ground angrily.
As soon as my eyes stopped stinging from the light, i saw the land around us. To the east were mountains, tall and intimidating. To the west were open plains, covered with dead or dying grass, brown and ugly. To the north was much of the same, perhaps even worse. But to the south came a large dirt cloud, along with the sound of a hundred charging horses and shouting men. As i looked, the captain pushed me to the ground, then placed his hand on my butt, pushing me forward. I crawled, and made my way towards the wagon, but after the captain had a fit of anger, shoving me to the ground, he pushed me forward again, touching me in the most private of places. In a fit of anger and revulsion, i pulled my leg to my stomach, then kicked back, my heels smashing into the man’s head.
Hearing a loud crack, the girl screamed in pain, feeling her foot break. Through the pain, she failed to notice the indentation in the captains skull. What she did notice though was another flight of arrows crash down. Looking towards the wagon, she could see the four other girls cower in fear with the men. Reaching forward, she pleaded for help, but before she finished her desperate request, a shadow appeared at her side. One of the guards leaped on top of her, his breastplate hitting her in the head. Barely a moment after covering her another volley hit the group, many arrows thumping against the man’s corpse. One arrow pierced her calf, but she felt nothing, her world having already gone black.
The next thing i remembered seeing was the sun setting, with bodies everywhere, flies buzzing and crows feasting. A few were soldiers in steel chain-mail, but many were in the leather jerkins i recognized the mercenaries all wore. I saw Nele's body, in the most awkward position i had ever seen. Why would her body be on her knees, face to the dirt, butt to the sky? Foot and horse tracks were everywhere in the dirt. Some i could tell were from boots, a few were from bare feet. I was now all alone, naked, covered in dirt and blood, and dying. I could not feel my leg, i remembered a searing pain in my leg, but i never knew about the arrow until i saw it, pierced right through the calf, from one side through the other. The flesh felt numb, my leg feeling oddly heavy, my pale flesh brown from dried blood. Some flies rested on the wound, laying their eggs, until i began crawling to the wagon, dragging my useless limb. I made my way to the home i had known for weeks, to that stupid, uncomfortable wagon. The food, water, and personal belongings of the men were all gone. All i could find was a long dagger buried in one man’s throat, which i took, and used to cut the cloth from the wagon, making a makeshift robe to cover my body. I knew i was going to die, i felt so weak, having not eaten in days. I felt so thirsty, having nothing to drink since the morning. I felt so dizzy, i had lost so much blood while i had lain on the ground. But somehow, i also felt strong, proud. I had survived, and was now free. Dying, yet, but free none-the-less. I felt the wind rise, could feel dust hitting my cheeks.
I remembered waking, and seeing a shadow beside me, but little else. How i laid there all day sleeping, i will never know. Did i die, only to return to life, my thread rewoven into the pattern? Or had one of the men falsely claimed me dead, leaving me behind to the carrion birds?
One day, I may give you this letter, you, the shadow who found me dying in the light. It's the least i can do, for i owe my life to you, amongst many other things. If you had not found me, offered me your waterskin, cleaned and covered my wound, i would not be here writing this letter to you. I can only hope that my life was worth saving.
- Drin (11 April 2012)
- Ji'val (14 January 2013)