<strong>Location: City Slave Pens<br/>Time: Early Morning</strong><br/><strong><br/>Eriadora Beremen</strong><br/><br/><div class="floatleft">(http://thenightbelow.pbworks.com/w/file/fetch/49788203/Eriadora%20Slavegirl.jpg)</div>HP: 144/144<br/>AC: 12 (flat 10, touch 12)<br/>Status: Normal, Nude (Unarmoured, no magical enhancements)<br/>Effects: None<br/><br/>Waking up on the hard packed earth of the slave pens, Eriadora rubbed her eyes and cursed her poor luck that thwarted her second escape attempt of late.  Ruefully her violet eyes drifted to her ruined ankles, flinching a bit in a morning twitch, as she stretched and tried to shake the sleep out of her body.<br/><br/>The bustle of the marketplace had not yet begun, but the sounds of activity began to filter through the air.  The other slavegirls shoved and pushed as places were assigned, and she knew that they would all be put up for display soon so the early buyers could come and examine the stock.  Rubbing her hands and pinching their cheeks, they tried to assume an appearance of healthful flush and circulation.  Eriadora ignored the efforts of the other slaves and prayed for a few minutes, remaining kneeling on the ground as it was too difficult to rise and then sink to her knees again once she was to take her place in line.  She felt sorry for the eager girls, knowing that the enthusiasm for being bought was only a temporary delay in the disillusionment through the inevitable horrible fate that awaited them all.<br/><br/>Shadows of approaching buyers broke the lines of the cage bars, and cold eyes ranged over the exposed flesh and kneeling girls, looking for something in particular....