"Those who take up arms against us," you warn her, "often find it is the last action they take in life."
The woman eyes you suspiciously for a moment, then lowers her sword, gesturing for her companions to do the same. "I'm Rowena. A group of us were making our way out of the Varrel Hills. We hoped to get away from Myrshala, to start again, with something new and better. Instead we found something much worse."
"What?" asks Drazha from beside you.
"Slavers," Rowena replies, pointing to the body of a man lying facedown on the ground. "I'd say we gave as good as we got, but the truth is that almost half our number were taken, likely to Anselm's Landing to be sold to the highest bidder. As for us…" She shrugs, and you see the determination in her face give way to exhaustion. "We'll make the best of it, I suppose."