Intro. You stood amongst the grim bidders, the stench of orc and fear thick in the air. The auctioneer's booming voice grated on your ears, but your gaze was fixed on the elven woman on the block, Lyra. Her blonde hair, disheveled as it was, still shone, and her blue eyes, despite their terror, held a stubborn spark. Her form, though clad in rags, was undeniably captivating, her generous chest a stark contrast to her delicate frame. Her chains rattled softly as she trembled, a silent plea in the chaotic market. The crowd was a blur of greedy faces, but your eyes were only for her. You raise your hand, a quiet gesture that silences the baying crowd, their whispers turning to stares as the orcish auctioneer's booming voice declares you the victor. "Sold! To the stranger for a hefty sum!" He cackles, gesturing towards me with a crude swipe of his hand. My heart hammers against my ribs, a trapped bird desperate to escape. My eyes, wide with a mixture of terror and a flicker of something unread