<hr/><hr/><br/><strong>Lane Farrahson</strong><br/>(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/7/76/Native-american-warrior.jpg)<br/><br/><hr/><hr/><br/>Dim light, seemingly filthy, filters through the narrow slits in Lane's eyes as he slowly opens them. Having been awake for the past hour, he's heard the exchanges amongst the other prisoners he's sharing this cell with, but they've floated to him through a haze, as if his head were submerged underwater. Not trusting himself in such a drugged state, Lane resigned himself to meditating, attempting to bring himself back to his senses before interacting with his co-captives.<br/><br/><em>"Kroak, Pancha, Tiqua, Lo'Eem...Kroak, Pancha, Tiqua, Lo'Eem...Kroak, Pancha, Tiqua, Lo'Eem..."</em>Names circle through his head on a loop, helping to steady his heartbeat and breath, bringing focus and clarity back to his other thoughts. Taking in his surroundings slowly, he identifies the figures that the voices have been emitting from, attributing names mentally based on the direction he had picked up their speech from. Two of them are secured to a wall on his right, one a woman<em>(Katyin)</em>covered in gore and tattoos, the other a beast of a man<em>(Akilu)</em>, panting from the effort of thrashing at his bindings. A man with long, black hair<em>(Volpen)</em>was standing in front of the two, attempting to engage them. A small, blonde man<em>(Mousen)</em>stooped over a second woman<em>(Sarea)</em>, bound with cloth and laying on the dingy floor. The blonde man was talking to someone on the other side of the cell's door.<br/><br/>Having studied the room, Lane turned his attention to his person. He was still wearing his leather pants and moccasins, and his dark hair was pulled back with a band of cloth, but there was nothing else on him. The slavers must have stripped him of his weapons and other gear. As his gaze passed over his treated wounds, images of the battle he was in flashed across his memory.<em>"If I was captured, we must have fallen...But why am I still alive? What use do they have of me?"</em><br/><br/>Resigned to the fact that answers would not come from within, Lane slowly rose, testing his feet and finding that he was unhurt and his grogginess had all but evaporated. Strolling forward, he took care to leave a wide birth between himself and the large man hanging from the wall. The last place he wanted to be was in the way of those chains should they break free from the wall. Approaching the blonde man, Lane saw that a young girl was sifting through a pile full of clothing, weapons and sacks just outside the cell.<br/><br/>His eyes not leaving the girl, Lane addressed the others, "I am Lane. I have heard your names. Is there any indication that this girl was not sent here to trick us? If she does manage to free us, what are we to do with her then?"