And when I did get caught, I still had the stabbing blade. They didn't see me as kin, and the only way to get what I needed was to take it without getting caught, whether it was money or food. I remember the caves full of monsters, and the murderers and animal-men on the roads, and then I came to Cheydinhall, where the people looked like me. They didn’t expect a little girl to fight back, didn’t expect the stabbing blade shooting up from the cowering child.įinally I found the dry land, and the slaving lizards didn’t follow me anymore. I remember the biting flies and the rot, and the itching feet, and the horrid lizard men who chased me down, not to recapture me, but to kill me and bring back my corpse so the others would not run. I don’t even know how old I was when I escaped. ![]() ![]() When I cried, I was whipped and called a “filthy dark elf” and told that my people “had brought this on ourselves.” The slavers took me to Stormhold in Black Marsh, and there, I was forced to work maintaining roads that were overtaken by jungle again the next day. My parents were stolen from me by slavers when I was seven. Life is pain, and death was a gift stolen from me by a monster. I promised to tell her story, dark as it may be. She wanted someone different from anyone I had played, and we came up with her backstory as her face emerged.
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