Vex’ahlia, Grandmistress of the Grey Hunt

Well, this bitch certainly stuck in my memory. Throughout the great last stand of the world’s heroes the constant jeering had almost made me lose my temper. My minions had apparently recognised this and so when they had taken her to the cell she now resided in, they had attempted to fix that problem.

The dark haired half-elf ranger was still in most of her leather armour, dirty from the fighting but not yet in tatters like some of her companions armour. A bit and bridle had been added to her ensemble though, muffling any words she tried to speak into indecipherable noises and making her look like an (admittedly) very feisty ponygirl. Her hands were bound behind her back by a rope which then went to the ceiling, forcing her forward into a bondage position that must have been agonising after the first few hours let alone the three days it had been.

When I entered the room she looked up at me and I could hear the vitriol in her muffled speech, cursing me from one hell to the next. I have no doubt if looks could kill I would have been obliterated into atoms. Her make-up had run and I recalled her husband had been one of the first to fall in the battle, but would her brave face last?