The heavy iron door to the cell swung open with a shriek of unoiled hinges. Light from the flickering torches in the dungeon corridor spilled into the dark room beyond. Briefly, it was silhouetted by a tall, thin figure which leaned in the opening. The figure hissed a few sibilant words which Eanwe had learned meaning something to the effect of “Come out.” At least, when she heard one of their captors bark that and didn’t come out, she had been punished for it. By such painful trial and error, Eanwe was picking up the Drow language. The chains on her wrists and ankles, joined by a longer one to the steel collar locked tight around her throat rattled as she joined the throng of other slaves shuffling towards the door. 

Not that long ago, she was no longer quite sure just how long, six or seven months was her best guess, Eanwe had never seen a Drow, much less heard their language spoken. She knew of them, though. The sinister, underground dwelling elves were much feared and hated for the raids they launched on isolated communities, looking to snatch innocent victims to labor in bondage down in their underground kingdom. 

It was a night like any other when the Drow struck. The first Eanwe knew of the attack was when she and her family were dragged from their beds by several figures, half invisible in the darkness of the hut. But what was all too obvious were the knives that glinted in their hands, terrifying the human family. A feminine voice warned them harshly not to resist and so they didn’t, as their hands were tightly bound with light, soft, but strong cords, collars closed snug around their throats and leather muzzles strapped tight over their mouths, silencing their cries of terror. As they were marched out of the building into the light of the moon, Eanwe saw their attackers had dark skin and pale silvery hair and she despaired, realizing they had fallen into the clutches of the Drow. 

Elsewhere in the village, more Drow raiders were engaged in breaking into houses or emerging from them, dragging out their occupants, bound in ropes. In the village common, the prisoners were being congregated by their captors and organized for the journey to come. It was there Eanwe was torn away from her daughters, despite all her gag-muffled protests and their frightened wails. The three sisters were joined to a coffle with many of the other village girls. Eanwe, meanwhile, was tethered by her collar in line with some of the other women, many weeping and crying out for their own families. What became of her husband, Eanwe had no idea. 

With whips and strange curses, the coffles were driven away from their homes. About a mile from the village they came to a tunnel entrance, hidden in the woods. What sort of sorcery the drow had used to dig it, Eanwe had no clue, but the yawning mouth terrified her, knowing the victims of the Drow who disappeared underground were never seen again, but bound and roped in a coffle, there was no way she could prevent her and the other women from being dragged down into it. 

For days, they tramped through the underground, stopping only briefly to rest and be fed and watered. At times, the tunnels were very narrow, pressing the captives on either side. Other times, they stumbled through vast caves which echoed with their footfalls. Other than that, though, it was all the same to Eanwe and the other captives. An oppressive blackness all around that left her wholly reliant on the tug of the rope at her neck to know where to go. In such a place, escape was impossible, indeed she feared she might become separated from their captors and be lost forever in one dark cavern or another until some unknown terror found her in the shadows. 

Eventually, they came to the city. For a human woman that had spent her whole life in a small, rural village, the underground city; Medialis the Drow called it, was both wondrous and terrifying. Large buildings of stone rose from ground to the cavern ceiling high above. They were lit by the flames of innumerable torches, as well as strange crystals which glowed with an eerie magical light. 

The streets between the buildings teemed with Drow, hundreds, thousands of them. They hurried about their business with a frenetic pace that astonished the peasants, used to the slow pace of country life. Mixed in with them, hurrying with an even greater urgency, were other races, as numerous or even more so then the Drow. Humans there were aplenty, but also dwarves, other types of elves and stranger races Eanwe had never imagined. But all were undoubted by slaves here. Some wore clothing, plain and threadbare, but most wore rags or nothing at all apart from their collars. The slaves trudged about, laboring for their Drow owners. 

Eanwe’s time in the city was brief. Before long, she and the other freshly captured women were brought to a dungeon. The House of Chains, she learned it was called, and all new slaves of the Drow came here first, to be taught to serve their new Mistresses. 

As Eanwe stumbled from the cell with the other captives, she saw one of the trainers of the House of Chains. With her was another Drow, dressed in dark green robes, in contrast to the purple tunics the slavers favored. Unlike their marker, showing three interlocked chainlinks, this one had a device showing three large mushroom caps. Behind her were other Drow and a few slaves that bore the same sigil, either on brooches for the other Drow or on their collars for the slaves. What it signified, Eanwe didn’t know, but she didn’t have long to ponder it. 

“In line slave!” Another Drow slaver snarled, bringing the flogger in her hand to Eanwe’s back. The slave grunted sharply into her leather muzzle and hurried to line up with the other women as fast as she chains allowed. There, she waited, head cast down low as the group of strangers approached, starting at one end of the line and moving down. 

When they reached Eanwe, the Drow reached out and began to casually inspect the human woman, feeling the muscles of her arms and legs and chest, groping her breasts and fondling her sex. Her attitude was almost like that of a man inspecting a horse for sale at the village market. The Drow even pulled down Eanwe’s muzzle to check her teeth. Of course, that’s what Eanwe and the other human women were here: beasts of labor, up for sale. 

One of the Drow slavers hung beside the other woman, chatting with her as the human woman was felt up. Though she didn’t understand most of what was being said, Eanwe caught a few words here and there in what was obviously a well practiced sales pitch. Words like “Good Labor” and “Obedient”, “Work hard” that were clearly being applied to Eanwe, extolling her virtues as labor for her mistress, should she be bought.

The inspection was harsh and degrading, but mercifully brief and a few seconds later, the pair of Drow had moved to the next captive female to subject her to the same humiliating ritual. Eanwe waited, cheeks burning from the shame. She expected to go back to the cell soon, but when they had reached the end of the line, the Drow started back up it. Here and there, roughly every 3 or 4 slaves, the Drow in green would stop and indicate one of the naked, chained figures with a word or gesture. This was recorded down by one of the slave scribes and the slave would be taken out of the line. When she reached Eanwe, the Drow inclined her head and spoke a single, short word before moving on. 

A couple of the flunkies came forward and took her by the arm, pulling her brusquely from the line. As she walked over to join the other women that had been selected, Eanwe realized with a wave of fear that she had just been sold. As this new reality sank into her, a chain was fastened to the front of her collar, the other end connected to the one around the neck of the slave in front of her. Soon, another chain linked her to the girl behind Eanwe in line. 

Behind her, the Drow reached the end of the line of wretched captives. The last naked woman was dragged from her place to join the rest of those selected. The Drow spoke a few words, finalizing the deal perhaps. The other slavers began herding those unsold slaves back into the cell, to await the next potential buyer. Meanwhile, other Drow took the chain lead of the first girl in Eanwe’s coffle. Glumly, those that had been sold shuffled forward, out of the dungeon and to a new life laboring for their drow captors…