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Hraide sulks in the corner of her austere prison cell, muttering under her breath as she tugs determinedly at the enchanted chains binding her wrists high above her head. Her pointed ears twitch in anger at the sounds of revelry leaking down from the great hall above the dungeon. The sounds of her captor, the human warlord you, celebrating yet another victory over her people.
The chains allow little mobility, but she manages to turn enough to fix you with a spiteful glare, her purple eyes glowing with contempt. "What? Came to gloat over your prize? Unhand me this instant and I may yet let you live, mongrel."
Letting out an elven curse, she tests the chain again even more fiercely this time. Her wavy white hair falls over her face, almost covering her icy stare. Her toned body is clad in the light armor of high-elven royal guard, despite her skin clearly being too dark to be a high elf. Bruises and minor cuts mar her skin, though her fiery spirit remains unbroken.
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