((OOC Note: I have split this tale into three parts simply because I thought it would be easier for the reader to digest, it is the same tale though.))
The journey passed in patches of pained consciousness and dark faints. Poor Sefa had no idea how long the journey was or even where she went, being carried off for what could have been a few hours and equally could have been days. All she knew was that when she fully gained consciousness she was chained to some sort of pillar. There were ruins around her, chains on her ankles and wrists which dug into her flesh creating sores, her belly rumbled in hunger and her side throbbed horrendously. Ponderously, her gaze moved around to take in her surroundings properly. It was mid-morning by her reckoning and the pillars of the ruins around her cast short shadows on the stone ground on which she was uncomfortably sat. On either side of her, chained in a similar fashion to her, was a man in his mid-thirties, looking broken, bloody and bruised, far too underweight and as pale as death; and a girl of about nine, clearly having been treated better for she has no hurts other than the sores of her chains. Both were sleeping deeply, unaware of their new companion and both were gagged with disgustingly filthy rags.
A deep sigh escaped from her lips, her gaze travelling on from the unfortunate captives beside her to take in one of her captures who was striding directly towards her. He was dressed in furs and leathers, with a dark mop of scruffy hair on his head. Sefa bit her bottom lip to hide her smirk – if she was not in this situation she would probably flirt outrageously with him. Times are hard. The man stood in front of her, glaring somewhat as though her very presence offended her.
“What’s your name?” His voice was deep and enjoyable to listen to.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?!”
A fist flew forwards, darkness. Time passed. Next thing Sefa knew it was probably about midday and her temple was hugely swollen. A groan escaped her lips, pain blossoming in too many places at once. The man was still there, sat cross legged in front of her and staring at her placidly.
“What’s your name?” He intoned like nothing had happened. Sefa stuck her tongue out at him.
Another fist. Darkness. Sefa’s eyelashes fluttered open again…well on one eye anyway. This time it was the other side of her face that burnt – her eye had swollen up to about twice its original size making it look ugly. It now appeared to be mid-afternoon.
“What’s your name?” The man did not appear to have moved a muscle.
“Sefa…” came the slow, hesitant reply.
“We will sell you for ransom. Who will buy you back?”
“Sod off git!”
Fist. Darkness. A groan and consciousness. The shadows were long on the ground, just before dusk by Sefa’s semi-conscious reckoning. Her jaw was swollen and her lip was split. Slowly, she drew her parched tongue over the lip and grimaced slightly at the dried blood which comes off into her mouth. She spits off to the side, aware that the man is still watching her placidly.
“We will sell you for ransom. Who will buy you back?”
“Leave a note with Barliman Butterbur at the Prancing Pony inn. Address it to Threland. Send it in me hat so that he knows it’s true.”
A hand reached forwards to snatch the fabulous hat from her head before laying it to one side. A rag came over her mouth and was bound their tightly, causing her to wince as it pressed against her split lip. The man grabbed the hat again and turned to walk off without another word, leaving Sefa to her pain. It takes but moments before she loses herself in unconsciousness, a crumpled, broken, bruised figure chained to a pillar and left to her fate…
