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Senora (I forgot my hitpoint total, but will find it.)
In a crumpled heap upon a cold stone-like floor clothed in the rags of slaves, Senora lay unconscious. In an attempt at self preservation, her sub-conscience mind extended itself away from her in search of Kaelin’Dar’s presence. Her mind did not find the solace or comfort of the deity in which it sought. Instead it found traces of that powerful entity that had swarmed over her twice since she had come to the tower. A presence so strong that if she were to awake, it would detect her and likely force itself once again upon her psyche. An act she probably could not withstand a third time in her weakened physical state.
Veiled within darkness the priestess struggled to regain consciousness. She fought desperately to tell the difference between dreams and reality. Shifting her body painfully she groaned as enough of her conscious mind awoke to let the pain of her battered body reach it. She hurt everywhere from various injuries which included but were not limited to severe abrasions on her head, several broken ribs and a severely broken wrist. Shadow Dwarves hated the creatures of the light, but especially elves. They did not spare her any abuse. Truthfully, she was lucky to be alive and intact.
Her head throbbed and as she took a deep breath, the dust and dank air caused her lungs to burn and she turned onto her side and coughed, the very action causing her stomach and ribs to wrench in complaint. Her eyelids were heavy and as she tried to lift them the darkness of her dreams seemed to extend into reality. Something sinister rippled upon the outskirts of her thoughts as she fought to open her eyes. Her sub-conscience recognized the presence and desperately pleaded for mercy. She brought her right hand to her forehead instinctively. As her bracelet-clad hand touched the dried blood of her head an image flashed momentarily at her through the darkness. The image was quick, but effective. It was the elven form of her goddess Kaelin’Dar. She spoke one word in Senora’s native tongue before being once again engulfed in a void of blackness.
“Sleep.”
Senora hesitated only momentarily before giving up the fight against the wisdom of her sub-conscience. Blissfully she drifted back into her dreams in order not to draw any attention to herself. Her mind was a magnet for something horrid, something deeply, disturbingly evil. Sometimes even a priestess must succumb to darkness in order to walk a higher road.
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