- Messages
- 54
- Character Biography
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The Wardens of Cerak At'Thul were some of the worst, but Iskra never thought one of them would make such a spectacle like this.
Misandra was an exceptional archer, and in the days leading up to the Warden's Hunt, whispers spoke of the incredible shots she had made in the past. Each year since her admittance into the Wardens, she had held a Hunt with names submitted to the Scribe of anyone caught or accused of being treacherous. One name would be selected, innocent or guilty, and the Lucky Duck is given a day to run or hide.
In the earlier years, no one thought of the Hunt to be serious, and less names were submitted, but after the success of hunting down the Lucky Duck, anyone's name became unsafe.
On the stage where slaves were presented on each morning, the dark elf commanded a mass of eager hunters. Not all would be invited to join the hunting party, but the Warden had been known to bestow the privilege to the most enthusiastic from the crowd. The Scribe was stood beside her, scooping and mixing up the pieces of parchment filled with names inside the barrel that had been collecting for the past year. Your name could only be submitted once, and even if you were not present for the drawing, that name will spread through Cerak before lunch.
Young children, usually orphans, stood near the stage, eagerly awaiting for the name to be called. They were already paid ten coppers to run through the streets, to yell, announce, and declare the name of the Lucky Duck of this year. Their youthful voices the fans to the flames.
Iskra watched from the side, dressed in her rich purple cloak, the hood drawn over her head. The only ones that knew her name had washed up onto the beach with her, those that had came with them on board the ship. Perhaps her name had been said here and there, but who truly would recall it correctly to scribble it down with the Scribe in hopes her name would be picked?
Ah, and Nelly. The woman running the apothecary that helped Iskra with her burns after a smith tried to melt the cuffs at her wrists. She had given the mage the room above the shop for lodgings and a job in the after hours to clean and stock the items. Would she turn Iskra in with just her name?
Misandra was an exceptional archer, and in the days leading up to the Warden's Hunt, whispers spoke of the incredible shots she had made in the past. Each year since her admittance into the Wardens, she had held a Hunt with names submitted to the Scribe of anyone caught or accused of being treacherous. One name would be selected, innocent or guilty, and the Lucky Duck is given a day to run or hide.
In the earlier years, no one thought of the Hunt to be serious, and less names were submitted, but after the success of hunting down the Lucky Duck, anyone's name became unsafe.
On the stage where slaves were presented on each morning, the dark elf commanded a mass of eager hunters. Not all would be invited to join the hunting party, but the Warden had been known to bestow the privilege to the most enthusiastic from the crowd. The Scribe was stood beside her, scooping and mixing up the pieces of parchment filled with names inside the barrel that had been collecting for the past year. Your name could only be submitted once, and even if you were not present for the drawing, that name will spread through Cerak before lunch.
Young children, usually orphans, stood near the stage, eagerly awaiting for the name to be called. They were already paid ten coppers to run through the streets, to yell, announce, and declare the name of the Lucky Duck of this year. Their youthful voices the fans to the flames.
Iskra watched from the side, dressed in her rich purple cloak, the hood drawn over her head. The only ones that knew her name had washed up onto the beach with her, those that had came with them on board the ship. Perhaps her name had been said here and there, but who truly would recall it correctly to scribble it down with the Scribe in hopes her name would be picked?
Ah, and Nelly. The woman running the apothecary that helped Iskra with her burns after a smith tried to melt the cuffs at her wrists. She had given the mage the room above the shop for lodgings and a job in the after hours to clean and stock the items. Would she turn Iskra in with just her name?
