Ro’an wakes to the sounds of screams for the second morning in a row. “Noooooooooo” he shouts, tears stream down his face. Images from the Drow prison race through his mind. His head throbs like the pounding of a raging river against a boulder. Bleary eyed, and shaking Ro’an looks around taking in his surroundings. Pulling his black cloak in tighter around him like a security blanket. He finds himself waking in a dark corner of the deserted high town Tavern....again. Huddled against the two walls was the only place he felt safe. The only place he felt he could sleep after his experience in the Drow prison. He did not feel safe in his bed. However, no matter where he tried to sleep when he closed his eyes all he’d see was what he was made to do there, Or the ritual that people, he thought were his friends, forced on him.
Ro’an sat there huddled against the walls of the tavern conflicted. The whole time he was imprisoned the Grehlok guards kept asking him, “Why was he in New Haven?”, “What was he doing there?”, “Had he run away from his Mistress?”. Then later during the ritual the Archon kept saying, “see how they treat you, Ro’an?!” “These people do not care about you. In Drow society you are valued; we would not treat you this way.” Yet only hours later he found himself in front of the Archon themselves. Not entirely sure how he got there. Being told he would assist the Drow in a ritual by being a sacrifice.
He knew better than to question the will of the Archon or the other Drow gathered. He had never seen so many Drow in one place. It made his head hurt more thinking about it. Ro’an felt so confused. He had no idea how he had gotten to this point in his life. He began to cry again. The emptyness in the pit of his chest grew more.
The sounds of the early morning birds were so much louder now, he could hear things much father away than before. He swore he could hear the various buildings of New Haven creaking, the wind blowing the sand, the water lapping at the wood of the dock in the harbor. The silence in his head was almost worse than whatever was there previously. He felt so alone, so lost, so lonely. He missed his brothers and sisters, his mother and father. If they saw him now what would they think? This did not help Ro’an‘s tumultuous thoughts. They continued to crash into his mind like waves in a raging hurricane.
The Drow had abandoned him. New Haven tortured him with the excuse of helping Ro’an. Who are his friends? His family? He questioned. These thoughts mixed and frothed about with images replaying through his mind of the horrible things he was made to do to his “friends” in Drow prison. Or the pain he was made to feel yet again as Alaniel performed their ritual on him; his whole body feeling like it was on fire before blacking out. This only turned his tears into wrenching sobs.
Ro’an begins to cough violently through his tears as blood ejects from his mouth onto the tavern floor. All Ro’an can think is, “what is wrong with me?” as he rocks back and forth sobbing, wiping more blood from his mouth.