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[Thrax]

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Elana awoke to the sounds of fighting: weapons clanging, shouted spells, grunts, curses, and the anguished cries of pain and death. She looked around, taking in the full extent of her surroundings as quickly as a hunted animal would. She was inside a tent, a raggedy outfit that reeked of mold and filth. But she was alone. The noise was coming from outside. She started to rise but found it impossible as her hands and feet were tied with elastic, but strong, leather straps. A surge of primal fear welled up within her. Suddenly a man stumbled through the door clutching a gaping hole in his chest at his heart. Blood spurted from the wound, and his feeble attempt at staunching the flow with his right hand failed miserably. His gaze fell on her for an instant, but he seemed to look right past her, through her, and he collapsed heavily on his face to the ground with a sickening thud. A gutteral and rasping moan escaped his lips and she knew he was dead. Behind him, a man dressed in crimson and black, his face hooded, entered the tent. He tossed aside his black shield and put his verite kryss into its scabbard at his side. Wordlessly he knelt beside her and, producing a dagger from his belt, began cutting her bonds with it. She extended her hands to hasten the process but said nothing, too stunned to speak.

"You are to go to Sanctus. Do you understand? Go quickly! These elves are numerous and when their hunting parties return, there will be too many of them for us to hold off," he explained, finishing his work.

She threw away the leather straps and stood up, dusting herself off. "Who are you and where am I?" she asked.

He answered, shaking his head. "No matter. You are saved. Go... now!"

She obeyed, running outside into the middle of the carnage she knew would be there. Many, many, bodies lay sprawled about, bleeding and mangled. She could not run for having to step over them. Once an elvish warrior attempted to block her escape, preparing to cast a spell. His voice, and life, were cut short by the precise swipe of a kryss which cleanly removed his head from his body. "Lady Alicia?!" Elana exclaimed, stopping long enough to note that man's slayer was none other than the magistrate of Papua. The woman pointed the tip of her kryss to the south. "To Sanctus and safety! Go! Hurry!" she shouted.

Elana complied, leaving the sounds of battle far behind as she ran down the road, unpursued, arriving at Hanse's Hostel quite safe and sound.