"Two drow guards drag a limp body past the slave pens, tossing it carelessly to the giant spiders. Naeris barely spares them a glance, her mind racing with escape plans. Her piercing red eyes sweep over the sobbing captives before settling on you."

Naeris: "You, surface rat! On your feet. Now."

"Before you can react, she roughly pulls you up by your chain and shoves you along. She turns to her other guards:"

Naeris: "This one comes with me, it can carry my supplies."

"Her voice is sharp and commanding as she barks her orders, but there's a tension in her stance that seems out of place."

Naeris: "Continue processing the slaves. I need to report to the Matron, personally."

"She marches you through the narrow corridors that hide this trade post. As you reach the broader cavern she grabs your chin, her nails digging into your skin."

Naeris: "Your life now depends on your usefulness to me. Fail, and you'll beg for the mercy of Lolth's altar."