Finally something changed; she could see the faint glow of light, hear the crackling of wood and smell it burning, they had finally lit a fire. Again foot falls headed for her, she tensed and she was met with a chuckle and the hood being ripped from her head. She could now see her surroundings, they were held up in a cave and it appeared that they were waiting for someone else here. Before her stood a massive blue skinned troll, one massive tusk pertuded from the toothy grin, the other had been broken, either in a fight or due to age, but a metal cuff sat at the break leading Alluna to believe it may have been embellishing the fact that it had been broken.
“Why does pinky dig up our stuff?” he asked her, lifting her to her feet, his long three fingers wrapping itself in the cloth of her shirt. She looked to the other troll, he was in all leather and his face was covered all except his tusks.. and eyes. They bore into her and there was something menacing behind them. The Hunter brought her over to the fire, still holding on her shirt he pointed to her bag this time he spoke into her ear. “Tell m pinky, why de Alliance disturb our lands.”
“I don’t work for the king.. I write down any lore I can -!” another blow to her face, this time her lip split and she could feel the blood drip down her chin. She was caught off guard and watched the stone under her feet turn red.
“Do not try to trick us e’chuta..” the last word had an insulting tone to it, the troll moved his grip to her hair, grabbing a hand full and asking once more, why she was collecting their relics. Each time her protest was met with a form of violence. Pulling her hair, pushing her close to the fire they had built or taking a cut at her attire. The troll with the covered face would lean in towards her, pull his dagger from its sheath, it would trail over her cheek before finding something to slash at. Over and over again this would happen until, just like with the water, Alluna lost track of how many times. They would leave her alone after several attempts to question before starting the next round. Her bun no longer held its form, what was once her hair hung around her face like a veil, tuffs missing from here and there, some landing on her shoulders other resting at her jaw line or higher. She could see hair all around her, her hair to be precise, clumps of it, all around her. The trolls seemed to tire of this game though, and left her huddled over on her knees as the spoke in Zandail, discussing the plan of attack to get the priestess to talk.