Lauralana screams, or atleast she thinks she does though no sounds emerge from her lips, as the burning and gnawing sensation in each of her myriad of piercings flared anew. She could feel the strength seep from her muscles as surely as she could feel her lifesblood seeping from her palms when the first female spawn had nailed her so cruelly to the side of the wagon.<br/><br/>As she is groomed she tries to move any part of her body in resistance, to no avail. She could not even get her hands to move more then a idle flicker of her fingers. Occasionally her face flushed from exertion but still nothing would respond to her mental commands. Horrifically as the bath continued, the elf woman recognized that even the will to fight was slowly draining, that the feeling of hopelessness was raising within her.<br/><br/>A few tears fell down her cheeks as she is led, outwardly docilely though inwardly raving and raging against the invisible bindings, and the sight of the mangled hearthtree. Again she tries to protest, sending silent prayers to her gods that seem to have turned a deaf ear to her cries as she is led forth once more.