Kharmam woke with a start. Memories of the dream still lingered in her mind; the guarhide yurt, the mysterious dark elf, the smoke stinging her eyes and nose. They began fading as the pain and cold set in. [i][color=f7941d]Where am I?[/color][/i] she thought, confused, [i][color=f7941d]Where am I, where am I, where am I?[/color][/i] Then she remembered. She was in the same damp, dark little cell she had been in for the better part of a year. Stuck in a hole under a big, twisted monstrosity of a fungus which the natives apparently used for housing. Then she reacted to the pain and let out a soft groan. Why was she hurting so bad?

Oh, yes. The beating.

She had her big mouth to thank for that. For some reason she could not recall she had picked a fight with the warden yesterday. Again. Or he had picked a fight with her; the beginning was still a litle hazy. It was unimportant. Their relationship worked like that. She remembered insulting one of the guards and then hurting another, and then some more of them had come with sticks and beat her to a pulp. Maybe not the best outcome for her but she saw it as a victory, however minor. They would never break her, and she would make sure that they knew it every day. Bastards.

It took some effort to get up and Kharmam cursed under her breath at her throbbing bruises. Looking around her it seemed most of the other slaves were asleep judging from the steady pace of their deep breathing. She considered what she would do next, and then spoke.

[color=f7941d]Anyone else awake?[/color]