<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #FF0000"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;">Gleywine Erewood Bentari</span><br/>The Hunter</span></div><br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="postlink" href="http://i1343.photobucket.com/albums/o793/Galvin_Fugazi/3e7683c1-2307-42a9-804a-0604ef177005_zps4a599908.jpg">[ img ]</a></div><br/><br/><div style="text-align: justify;">The hunter shook his head, when the female soldier stated that it didn't matter were they came from. It mattered a lot and he corrected her. <br/><br/><span style="color: #FF8000">"Mylady, it matters a lot were you come from. You have weapons and training. You could be what we need to overthrow this system and free the people. But only if there are more of you. Because otherwise the arena will see some more slaughtering."</span><br/> <br/>Her question where they were made him wonder. They had no idea? <br/><br/><span style="color: #FF8000">"You are in Getalia, three days away from the capital Ovia. To the Southeast. And yes, I fear the princess. She is some cruel bitch. Anyone not subdueing to her ended in the arena. Although I doubt it would change anything, if you submit to her will. You are trophies to her and her kin. She will enslave you and that means that you end in the arena two moons later. Or, as you are beautiful, Lady, she may hold you as her personal sex slave. After the doctors took care of you. There are ways to stop your fighting..."</span><br/><br/>The voice had turned bitter. Gleywine had been in love once. The young girl, brown-haired and pretty had ended as a sex-slave to the king and he had seen her die in the arena. It was no memory he liked to share.</div>