Keyleth, Voice of the Tempest

The red headed Druid hangs in shackles two feet off the floor by her wrists. My minions had not been kind to the tall but slim half-elf when they had dragged her from the battlefield. Her magic items had been taken away and she was dressed in the partially ripped remnants of her green dress but without shoes.

She’d obviously been hanging in the cold and the dark for at least several days since the battle. From the look of her parched and cracked lips she hadn’t been given food or water, likely this was on purpose as I knew my minions had lost at least a few hundred of their companions in the raging wildfire and lighting the young Druid had summoned.

When I entered, vivid green eyes met mine as she raised her head. Keyleth’s voice was rough and cracked from the lack of water but there was still light in her eyes.

“You haven’t gotten away with this you know! The others will come, or more heroes will rise and they will strike you down!”

She broke off into a fit of coughing after her little speech, but soon her watery eyes were focused on me again. There was fire in the little bitch for certain, but what to do with her first?